My Life as Story...

Was something Peter Kreeft said in a seminar for Act One's workshop a year or two ago in Hollywood. (Act One is a screenwriting program to turn Christian keeners, intent on saving Hollywood, into excellent writers. And Peter Kreeft is a preeminent Catholic thinker who's written about 50 books, and has his feet planted firmly on the ground.)

He said that if we think of our life as story, and understand that like all characters we have the power to resist good and embrace evil, just as much as the other way around, then we will also understand that we can only be overcome by a beauty more powerful than our choice of evil. Looking at our lives as such, also makes for less remorse over lost years, regarding them as part of the narrative arc in a journey, as long as that journey is gradually inching towards good. It allows me to see (sometimes, at least, when I'm not overcome by anger and resentment), that the things that have happened to me over the past 12 years, have also opened me up to God's grace in a way that being sheltered probably could not have. By looking at our lives as story, we are also able to see truth, because it lies there in the concrete. And goodness, he says, depends on truth -- that is, without being truthful, we can never really be good. That's why some beautiful movies can never be good, because they don't impart truth, and also why some primitive movies are good because they do. And it lies in the story, not in the costumes, sets, and special effects, though sometimes excellent goodness is seen through those things too. As flawed as Mel Gibson's personal life is, and as much as it's not always a witness for Christ, his movie The Passion of the Christ, affected people -- Christians and atheists and Jews and Muslims -- in a profound way that has led many to truth.

Another thing Kreeft said that struck home was the need to "exchange efficiency for delight." Joy is something I have either avoided, or it's avoided me, until the past few years when I have recognized the need, actually the desire, for joy.

Knocked Down...but Not Out

Apparently, the baby giraffe is knocked down by his mom just a few minutes after getting up wobbly legged from being born. He gets up again, and mom knocks him down again. This happens several times, but it's not a random cruelty. Mom does it to toughen up baby so he will be able to stand strong.

About 12 years ago, I remember thinking, you know I've never really suffered. And about a month after that, my husband announced he was leaving (the first time). I was devastated, and more so when I discovered he had met his "soul mate" and that she was the love of his life, and so on and so forth. But he didn't leave -- she wasn't available -- and the following couple of years was hell. He was in turns nasty, nice, physically attentive, cold. He declared up and down he wasn't having an affair (I've recently found out that was a lie), and during it all I got pregnant (how's that for cosmic timing).

I was so knocked down, I never thought I'd be able to stand again, and just when I would begin to rise out of this pit, he'd do something else to knock me over again. This went on for a couple of years, and friends said run, or kick him out, but don't put up with this any longer. The bad behaviour ended finally (what wasn't apparent at the time was that the behaviour just went underground). Anyway, that's a very long preamble to say that the three years of being knocked about, really was good for me, just like the baby giraffe. I dug deeper into faith, through scripture, prayer, reading what others have written, and clinging to good friends. The Christian friends did me the most good, because they supported me, prayed for me, listened to me, but wouldn't let me get away with any spiritual or emotional nonsense.

What I didn't realize was that while I was slowly rising out of a pit dug with my past -- both family and misspent youth -- my husband was slowly getting more mired in his.

Being knocked around by the original tsunami, repeated last year with much less wave action, has changed my priorities considerably. It has woken me to some realities -- especially the reality of the Presence of Christ, forever and always the Hound of Heaven. It has shaken me to see that the things I have held on to for security are false lifebuoys. I have even come to recognize and reach for Joy when it presents itself.

Not sure yet what that experience is preparing me for, though!

One Year Later...Single parenting Life Marches On

I won't even comment on the length of time it's been since I last posted on this thing -- let's just say the summer was busy and leave it at that.

But today, the first day of school, marks one year since my DH announced, for good this time, that he was finally leaving. Thanks to having heard this before (for the last 12 years in fact), and having already undergone the devastation, panic, bereavement, anxiety, and so on that accompanies the breaking of this relationship, covenant really, I have really had not a bad year of it. In fact, it's become a way of life finally, which is probably what the greatest difficulty was originally. That's not to say that I recommend it -- divorce tears children's lives aparts in ways we never really appreciate until long after the deed is done (studies show that the biggest impact of divorce comes when the children go to marry themselves, and 70% of those marriages end in divorce). And so, your job description as a parent becomes different, more challenging, but in some ways more rewarding. It forces you, if you're like me at least, to really study productive and beneficial ways of going forward.

I personally feel a whole lot better than I did a year ago. I no longer have to look over my shoulder wondering when he's going to fall in love with someone else, have an affair, or threaten to leave. I no longer have to feel second best, wonder what I did to displease him, or accept the few crumbs tossed my way. Thank heaven I had the ten years to adjust to the idea that he really isn't all that into me, doesn't like me, and doesn't want to be here. I get it now. It's really nice not to feel that way anymore -- though SHE will, eventually. It's just the way he is.

My relationship with my children is better than it ever was (with no one behind my back trying to poison it), and I get the whole bed to myself. I can sing when I want to. And now I actually want to.

Oh, what a ride!

I've said for a long time that anger is a verygood tool for protecting your inner mushball, and that sadness while it taps into your real emotions can leave you a mess until you work through it. The last week or so has been like this.

And I've had too much contact with my ex-h. Better left alone. Since he had a potentially serious medical problem which needed attending to, I insisted on driving him to the hospital, then driving him to another hospital next day for the emerg laser eye surgery. When I accidentally hit a bump in the car, he asked that I slow down since my driving could hurt his eye. I got defensive, because I had been very mindful, and then the memories surfaced -- having a miscarriage all over the kitchen, and his asking if I needed a ride to the hospital. D'oh. Half hour from delivery of our dd, (while he was engaged in a full blown affair, and being so nasty I'd asked a friend to be my labour coach, then relented, but I digress). There I was, 9 cm dilated in screaming labour, and he accidentally bangs the wheelchair into the wall driving the pain through my whole body. Naturally, I cried out -- he got angry with me.

So as I drive along -- him in the back seat with our dd, and me in the front like the chauffeur I allow myself to be -- and start thinking about all those affairs, and his mean behaviour towards me during them. While I understand, intellectually, that demonizing me justifies or normalizes behaviour, he doesn't want to feel guilty about. And I understand too that I contributed to this by being so effing stupid as to put up with it (what was I thinking? Saving my children's home?) and worse to fall for his mood switches from nasty to sweet -- when I'd start to exhibit signs of kicking him out. Maybe that's why these romantic comedies appeal so much, because they take a Proverbial statement and flesh it out -- those lines ring true, because they are true. My marriage is a combination of Legally Blonde and Jerry Macguire -- only I'm like a pathetic Elle still stuck on Warner.

And when I got home, feeling pretty low, out of the blue appear my two dearest friends (via email and phone), as if by divine conjuring, and made me feel loved again. Cuz it's being unwanted that really hits you most in times of sadness (most other times I feel very content about the turn of events, at least with regards to me). The other thing to watch out for is when one or both of the kids is away -- my tall lanky and handsome son has been at camp for over a week, and that probably accounts for the mood more than anything. I will, with the help of good friends and my faithful Lord, rise again.

Keep on moving, look forward and see what the good Lord has in store for me. After all, he promises to restore the years that the locusts have stolen. But I won't know them if my head is down.

Sadness Trumps Anger

This process -- some call it grief -- is funny in the way it rears up at times. Last night's healing prayer service for our minister's wife opened some floodgates. Usually I am in good spirits, moving forward, and basically dismissing my husband from thought. But during times of intense prayer, when more barriers are lowered, the sadness seeps in, and so the tears begin. For the past several months, I have recognized that anger allows you to function, by keeping the grief at bay, but the sadness is necessary for dipping into the grief and then moving on from it. If that makes any sense.

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.

A Fire Hydrant by any other Name

In the past week or so, my husband has been in the habit of coming into the house, walking back to the kitchen, washing his hands and blowing his nose (not necessarily in that order). Remember that he has just left his own place not five minutes before, so why wait til he comes to my place to wash his hands. I asked a friend what she thought that might be about, and she said it sounds like a dog pissing on the corners of his territory. I asked another friend, and she agreed -- her ex-h does the same thing -- when he picks up the kids, walks all the way through the apartment, goes to the bathroom to pee, looking in all the rooms as he goes.