Darkness into Light brings its own Pain

This morning's reading was John ch 3, and Jesus spends a long time speaking with Nicodemus about what it means to be born again. That is, not born of flesh, but of water and spirit. I guess the apt comparison would be Adam born of flesh, and Jesus born of spirit (and flesh). Jesus, or rather John (the apostle) makes a big deal out of light, and darkness, and he picks up on Jesus' convo with Nicodemus about evil likes the dark, but to be born again, that is grow closer to God, trust him as a baby does its mother, you must come into the light.

That journey is not without pain. There are times, especially in church when my usual crust is threatening to crumble, that I let the tears flow. I wish I could say it is from joy, but more often than not it is from pain, at the memory of yet another betrayal, or mean speech, from my ex-h. Although I was pretty sure for all those years that things were going on, I wasn't prepared to rip the veil off the activity, and find out for sure, because at some level I knew that it would require action I wasn't prepared to take at the time. And so I suffered the insults and shameful behaviour within a cloak of darkness and denial. One becomes immune to this behaviour -- it piles up, without you realizing it, sort of like turning up the heat on frogs immersed in cold water. But now that the cloak comes off, and the crust on the scab is beginning to fall away, leaving behind some pretty raw feelings. Thus the tears.

Likewise my own behaviour, though. I hid in darkness, not being bold, not confronting when I should have, and so layering his sins with my own. Comfort first, even if that comfort was the legitimate kind to protect my kids from a split home. And if I'm honest, comfort for me at my age not to have to struggle along with one income. (As it turns out, I am getting quite good at managing my bills.)

My New Improved Life Story

Anyone of a certain age and stage who's had a "career" for several years, knows that they either retire, or switch things up a bit if they want to keep going, making a living, and having a productive life.

Me, I wanna focus on that making a living idea. So for the past couple of years, I've been reading business books (some of them are ok), listening to podcasts (on Oprah's website no less!), and trying to absorb what the gurus say about making career shifts at my (undisclosed) age.

Today, I came across a piece of paper that has my scribbling on it, and it's obviously cuz I was listening to some guy who knew what he was talking about. The title at the top of the page is: Get Known Before the Book Deal.
By now, I've become pretty adept at taking concise notes, so this one pager I'm guessing was from a one hour podcast or something.

But everything they suggest is stuff that does not come naturally to me: zoom in and narrow your focus. What happens when you're the kind of person who is intrigued by almost anything? (So much so, I'll talk to virtually anyone, reagrdless of IQ, FQ -- fashion quotient -- or EQ) The podcast guy also says to identify the expertise you already have, by looking at your past, then meet your readership, break them down into submarkets, and align with your audience by figuring out who you are?

Here's how I answered that question: mom, writer, Christian, frantic, worried, photographer, traveller, daughter (with a ? mark), sister (another ? mark), friend, tired, a little unfit and overweight (make that a lot unfit), closet Southerner, closet Catholic, vocational advisor (for friends who have no job), book reviewer, info purveyor. In pencil, obviously added later, I inscribed: generalist, lateral thinker, juggling act, no fixed address (hmm, really? that must have been before I saw my lawyer and was almost guaranteed that my ex-h wouldn't be able to remove me from the house).

And just what am I supposed to turn all that into?

It's a year later, and I'm no further ahead on the work front. Yes, I work, but it's an insecure living, so it's back to the drawing board. And exit the pity pit.

The New Normal?

Most of the time, these days, I trip quite happily along, but there are times when I get caught up short, usually by something my ex does. Yesterday was just such a time. He comes in to pick up our daughter for school, and natters on about this that and the other thing. All I can think about is "you are not my friend, and don't try to normalize this." It infuriates me.

Later I went to meet someone who was friends to both, but whom we hadn't seen much for at least five years. I gnashed my teeth worrying about either saying too much or too little, so we ended up talking about what we were both doing these days, and only later did she ask about "IT."

Though I didn't tell her everything I knew, she wasn't all that surprised. Then my Writers Digest came in the mail, and while reading an article on how to write memoirs, it hit me why the narrative I've been telling leaves a bad taste in the mouth -- I've been stuck on defending myself, and it sometimes comes out sounding like I'm a victim. Especially if I'm angry. Having entered this marriage with my eyes open, I'm not a victim. And now setting boundaries, I'm still not.

So back to what's "normal" -- his behaviour the last several years isn't. My turning a blind eye, and accepting less than respect isn't. What is normal is being myself, standing up with grace, and in joyfulness, staying focused on the King. And like the wedding guests who finally did show up (Matt 22: 1-14) make sure I arrive with proper wedding attire.

roller coasters and other things...

This emotional ride is not as severe in some respects as it was 10 or 11 years ago when my husband first pulled his teenager tricks, but in other ways it's as bad. I am starting to recognize my own need to explain his behaviour to others who know him as not overly healthy for me. Although it enrages me that he is trying to pull the wool over his family's eyes (woe is me, I'm soooo unhappy), and not tell them the truth about his mistress (he wants a life of integrity, so how about start by telling the truth!), I also see that I'm playing a little of the victim game myself. Which doesn't help me move forward.

This first day of January is not only the beginning of a new year for me, but a new decade as well. There has been a huge amount of pain over the past decade, some of which I swept under the carpet partly because I'd absorbed as much as I could.

My husband's mistress wailed: mistresses are real people, mistresses have real feelings. The same goes for wives, sisters -- we are real people, we have real feelings, and why would I be content with a relationship that so degraded and devalued me? The only reason I closed my eyes to what was going on, was to preserve a home for my children. But my husband's leaving has ripped that wide open, and I am left with two choices: stay stuck with wishful thinking, or move ahead and live fully.

To alter the paralysis, I must move forward, even if it causes more upheaval and conflict within. That means leaving the past behind, because dwelling there is not where God wishes us to be, because God wishes us to have whole lives, not shadow lives. It means looking ahead, but only so far, because what the Lord wants more than anything is incarnational life, being fully present.

Moving forward means leaving the safety of the past, even though it is fraught with pain, betrayal, abandonment -- it's the devil I know.

you learn something new

In the past couple of weeks, some things have come to light about my husband's behaviour the past several years, and I am shocked, saddened, and angry.

Up til two weeks ago, I argued when he persisted in saying our marriage was so bad. Now, though, I have to agree with him. It was bad, but not for the reasons he said -- our essential incompatibility -- but because of his secret activity. For a shrewd and perceptive person, how could I have been so blind?

What I'm left with is sadness, that the marriage is well and truly dead, that the only hope of resurrecting it is with a complete transformative miracle, with God healing those dark holes in his heart. I am also ambivalent -- no inclination whatsoever to restore the marriage, and yet praying for his heart to be changed by the Holy Spirit. As for the children, I have a strong desire to protect them from this side he never revealed -- and which I pray he never will.

But there is also hope, as long as I can turn away from obsessing on this drama and how I can change it. I have no excuse not to move forward, and follow what my dear friend recently emailed me:

I so hope you realize that right now you are living Advent! The old world is dead; a new one is being born. Very confusing, but so full of hope. He is coming, that really means something. This confusion is so typical of new encounters with Christ, the real one, not a movie version of the young Jew of 33 years ago, not a pal, but your God who calls you to fuller life - and that always comes with panic and muscle pains. Don't worry about 'marriage'. Marriage is an institution to make love more accessible, to give it a chance to grow. Human beings don't exist to defend marriage, marriage exists for the sake of the human being's fulfilment. In this society, it is a pretty week support and protection.

So strike out into the deep. Don't let the devil destroy for you this most important moment in your life. Because so much good can come of this destruction of old habits, many of which were not good, whatever the devil is must be after you most energetically to distract you from the unleashing of real love and personal freedom that this change of life makes possible. This big Spring cleaning is liberating everything in you, the good the creative but also all the dangerous stuff that structure and habit hid under the rug. 'Be not afraid, it is I', God is telling you as he shakes up your world. Watch, wait, hope, and keep yourself pure for what is coming. And then, as He always says, don't worry about what you will do or say, I will do it for you.

Acedia & Me

Having not slept well last night, I took to my bed this morning as soon as Anna was out the door to school, and snuggled up with Kathleen Norris’s latest book Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer’s Life.

In between fits of catnaps, I read it, and it struck a deep chord, echoing my own faith (or faithless) journey in her biography of churchgoing childhood, to adolescence and young womanhood of agnosticism, and eventually back to the church, to faith, and one hopes into the love of God. But no journey is so simple, especially one beset by the sin of acedia, sloth, lassitude, listlessness, despair, depression, or whatever you wish to call your own noonday demon.

It’s this acedia I have been suffering with the last several months, and possibly for much, much longer. I wish I could find something funny to say about it, but in some ways humour can be an effective shield against honesty, and losing faith, in yourself if not in God, requires no small amount of self-reflective honesty. And it’s not all that funny, either.

So far, about a quarter of the way into the book, it does seem as though Norris is suggesting that the antidote to acedia (for it is truly as poisonous as a serpent’s bite), is digging in deeper to commitments – to one’s self, to life, to your spouse, your friends, your vocation, your God. It seems to be a complete cessation of desire – which is a sickness of the will and consequently the heart – and in modern Dr Phil terms, the prescription is fake it til you make it.

Of course Norris is much more eloquent that Dr Phil, and one sentence in particular seemed to sum up what I have been feeling much of lately. Listlessness has a seductively soft sound, but at root, it means being unable to desire, which is a cause, and a symptom, of serious mental distress. What most of us do is delve deeper into distraction – the worst thing, Norris says – because it makes us “in danger of becoming immunized from feeling itself.”