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.)
Monday, October 18, 2010
Friday, October 08, 2010
A Question of Support
I've met with a variety of sometimes surprising responses when I tell people that my ex-h has to pay spousal support. They range from well shouldn't you just go out and work to revenge scenarios like taking him for all he's worth. First of all, I am working, I just don't pull down a huge salary. And secondly, I've never been a gouger, and revenge only backfires on the perpetrator.
So here's the scoop on spousal support:
1) women post-divorce experience a 50% decline in living standards within 5 years; while men, post divorce, experience a 50% increase.
2) within five years, 75% of men are remarried, while 75% of women are not.
3) 90% of children living in poverty are living with single mothers.
Those are the reasons why the laws have changed so that women don't need to live in poverty.
I've proposed waiving spousal in exchange for his equity in the house. (He won't be left penniless either since he gets all the retirement funds.) This provides me with the security of a home for me and my children.
More research (acquired by me):
Once men remarry, they cleave to the new woman, and HER children, often leaving his own children out in terms of time, energy, and MONEY. In fact, more often than not, when a man dies, he leaves his estate to his new wife, and her children, and leaves his own children little or nothing. (I personally know of four instances of this, and my lawyer says he's seen plenty of cases that support this.)
So my question is:
is spousal support fair?
So here's the scoop on spousal support:
1) women post-divorce experience a 50% decline in living standards within 5 years; while men, post divorce, experience a 50% increase.
2) within five years, 75% of men are remarried, while 75% of women are not.
3) 90% of children living in poverty are living with single mothers.
Those are the reasons why the laws have changed so that women don't need to live in poverty.
I've proposed waiving spousal in exchange for his equity in the house. (He won't be left penniless either since he gets all the retirement funds.) This provides me with the security of a home for me and my children.
More research (acquired by me):
Once men remarry, they cleave to the new woman, and HER children, often leaving his own children out in terms of time, energy, and MONEY. In fact, more often than not, when a man dies, he leaves his estate to his new wife, and her children, and leaves his own children little or nothing. (I personally know of four instances of this, and my lawyer says he's seen plenty of cases that support this.)
And finally, since splitting, his ardour toward having the children has cooled a little, passing up offers of taking them here, or there, or visiting in the middle of summer camp... And so the bulk of t he child care rests on my shoulders. Not that I mind. In fact, I often sit up in the middle of it all, dishes, laundry, signing school forms, overseeing homework, and realize: I got the best deal!!!! But it does leave me with more of the workload.
So my question is:
is spousal support fair?
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
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!
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!
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, July 04, 2010
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)