My dream

Its a dream. We are in a house and I am folding socks. He is petering about and its still early (8 pm?).  And the next thing I know I am wondering where he is; he has disappeared. I go to look.  He is upstairs, in bed sleeping. As usual, he had not said good night because I am sure he knows I would have said "wait, spend some time with me".  Which my dream self then does.  He ignores me.

I feel so alone, as I had countless times before, alone and defeated.  Please pay attention to me. He does not, until only when he gets angry. Really angry.   I look at his sleeping countenance, passive, ignoring.   I know I am poking the bear if I speak.

I start crying.  "Are you like this with her", dream me asks?  Ignoring, uncaring. I am remembering again what it was like.  And my awake self now, recalls more. His angry face, as he lumbers and awakens himself up to get away from my upset self.  I can not stop myself.   No matter what I am to be alone. Alone staring at his sleeping face, or alone trying to get him to understand that I need more from him...that I don't understand why he is tuning me out.  This is years before the violence began, yet the abuse is there in my memory, like a footnote that stained the last three years before he left for good.

My anger was there before.  I remember it now. Hot and raging, it had scorched
the earth of our marriage because it had ben set off by his indifference. Was it
just his ADD or was it me, as he claims. He never understood that I was seeking something I thought was good and natural to expect in a marriage.  Connection.  And I never understood that this was something he could truly only mete out in small portions, within the partitions of his interests, his motivation, his wakefulness (for he worked himself heavily), and yes, his organic inattentiveness.  I should have known that wanting more could ultimately only end up being perceived as "desperate", "pathetic".  He pushed those buttons to hurt intentionally but also because he was no longer home.  At the end, he felt betrayed by me because I would not quiet my needs, my truly desperate (indeed!) need for..connection with someone I love, my husband; a feeling that had been squelched for years and produced my anger. Don't ignore me, I am
more.  Don't curse at me so I go away, I deserve kindness.  Don't say things to ruin and devastate me, I deserve respect.  Do not put your hands on me in violence, I am a fellow human being that deserves love.

It would not have changed for the better with us.  By the end of 2009, I was an unchanging annoyance to him, and he was a frightening and stolidly uncaring individual?  When he was different before, caring but aloof, unable to worry about the boring details of life that I picked up (and resented him for). It was a dreadful match.  Years after the intrinsic bond we held together, the love and commitment, the joy of our kids.

I am remembering even at 5:37 am.  To sleep per chance to dream... I'll pass on that for the moment.  And then I remember, its two years to the day that he left.

Ingrained viscera

Bear with me for a moment. I know why I am feeling the way I am, I am aware of the root of what triggered this bout of low self esteem.  I know it is momentary and I will feel better tomorrow.  But the gist of seeing my sister in law (soon not to be), someone I have liked and felt was family for many years, to be carefully but kindly cut out of her family view while being promised that my kids would be looked after at all the "family functions" is like attending my own funeral while I am still alive.

Last night, I had my niece, whom I love and whom my kids love, sleepover as we have done many times before.  My little one has been having trouble coping with the changes, especially the impending one of the clearly upcoming introduction of a new "Mrs." whom he had been spinelessly introducing to my kids since before he left home; first as many "innocent" playdates between her son and my child, and then as his girlfriend (with son still in tow).  My child found out about an impending change of marital status for her dad because he left texts from his girlfriend where she and he had gushing exchanges about their soon-to-come  wedding, while she still lived under the house of her husband.

I hear from my SIL, that the girlfriend's marital status will be supposedly changed to "divorced" in a month (which I somehow doubt, if our legal process is any indicator). And then onto the wedding!

I can not lie, it hurts. Hurts beyond belief for my own heart, and for his betrayal.  I get it, this hurt that so many of you feel too.

I hurt because my little one is feeling it too, and conflictingly, I know I would hurt if she did not.  I feel sadness because my older child has a deep under boil that has been pushed even farther under because of what his dad has done.  Betrayal.  And my child has had his first taste of real life cynicism because of the acts of someone who was supposed to be someone you could always count on.  His dad.  And his dad hurt his mom, big time.  No hiding that.

And to hear how he is "nothing but loving, almost to the point of over doing it" whenever he is with our kids in front of his family (formerly known as OUR family)... Hurts.  Oh my god, it hurts. 20 years of being family, then changed for the last 5 more to "nebulous exchange" to "nothing", hurts in a way that feels like a deep visceral wound.  Who am I?  

My parents are gone.  His family is gone.  He left saying how "everyone always leaves me in the end" and it appears true. Ironically, I am too over-educated in a way to relate to a lot of other people, the single group of people, I fear. And am I too different? And while I am working hard to live within my own skin, to learn to live and appreciate who I am, I feel exquisitely vulnerable to the process.  

"They all leave you in the end, don't they?"  If that is so, I must know that in the end, there is always me. And the love I can foister on my end, for my fellow humans, my people. And this must be something that gives joy and reconciliation. Is that right? How can I open myself to anyone else, if the deep under feeling is that I am different and will always to be left..

There is a deep under rage roiling under my surface, fighting it, this feeling, fighting to survive, fighting to be acknowledged.  I am important. You can not do this to me, make me feel this way.  I am good.  Anger, deep and hot, because I would not do this to another, that which he would willingly do this to me, after our life that we have shared.

Mourning

I did not sleep well. It was an unfitful sleep, and I know why.  Yesterday, he took the last of his things from what was once our marital home, now mine alone.  His items have been in the garage, his tools, Uncle C's stuffed fish that we used to laugh over as a family.  Now gone at my request, finally.  And I find myself mourning again.

People may not understand how I can feel this, given what I have said about his behavior these last few years, neck grabbing, poking and pinning behavior, his cursing at me profane words.  Scaring and intimidating me. PTSD. And now that he is out and I will not talk to him directly, his behavior now including his refusal to pay for childcare so I can work- a small monthly sum compared to what he makes (preferring instead to spend it lavishly on himself, his girlfriend, and on being Disneyland daddy.  Not "complying" to our stipulation agreement, as the lawyer says.

I am mourning because he was a good man, my "family" from the time I met him at 21 to 47 up until he first grabbed me.  My person who was there through thick and thin, and I for him.  At least in the way he was able to be accessible, undiagnosed disorder notwithstanding all these years.  Lending itself to countless misunderstandings, countless arguments, until he was finally, properly diagnosed.  Yet the misunderstandings continue; that beast has grown.

It was a unique situation and I own some of the brunt of why our relationship struggled,  My low self esteem, my need for financial stability resulting in my taking the primary  control in what I thought was the best interest of us and the children.  I was better at it, and he was not interested in the details even as I begged him for us to sit down and go over the bills and investments together on a regular basis like "real" couples do.  I didn't want to take the responsibility all on my own. I was controlling, because someone had to do things, I felt.

But we did laugh.  And love.  Our children were happy and secure because mom and dad were a unit.  He worked ALOT, which precluded me from doing so. No family to help, refusing to do the nanny thing when the little ones were so young.  But it was okay, I accepted the role because our kids needed that stability and I thought (no, KNEW) that we, as a couple, wanted the family unit.  And notwithstanding, I tried to keep my skills fresh and marketable for the "someday" when the kids were older and I could return to work for us.  Until then, we lived a good life.  Monthly poker games with our couple friends. A comfortable life. I cleaned, shopped, structured family and kid activities, took care of our bills and investments, and met with friends and exercised to keep sane. He had to be gone for work from 6am (up at 4:30 to get ready) and home by 6:30, five days a week.  Spent by the time he got home, we would eat dinner and then he would crash. He worked hard, and was a good provider in this way.  and I did the rest.  Over the years, it became lonely, so lonely.

I could not understand why my partner did not want to talk when he got home, he was fried but I was so lonely for his company.  I had friends, but he was my husband, my person, I thought.  I have known him since he was 24 and we knew each other to the bone, or so I thought.  And I did not know he held such secrets close to his heart, but the truth is, neither did he.  I loved him and yes, I still do.  No caveats (ie, as the father of my children crap).  I love him, my once husband, friend, and (irregular, because I pushed him away; I was hurting and he shut himself off long ago emotionally) lover. 

I did not want to make love to someone who I felt was acting like another kid, no responsibilities at home nor in our personal lives.  I was so, so lonely. But I did not know what to do. Counseling wasn't helping.

Two years now, he has been gone and we do not talk except via email and texts.  He is angry, how could I be this way- I truly think he believes.  He will make me pay, the person who caused him so much pain and embarrassment for making public his closely guarded secret.  He will show me, or perhaps, in true death knoll fashion, not give a shit about me (or hence what effect that means on the kids). 

Because he knows that I "betrayed" him by writing on an anonymous forum about his disorder and his abuse.  Violating a confidence, he felt, though I had not spoken to anybody at home, and we were separated at the time.   My husband wasn't living at home, I missed him, my family.  I was falling apart. so so lonely and desperate. Desperate to talk to someone.  But it was out now, this deep secret to which he accused me of thinking him "broken".  And it was between us, he knew that I knew about his struggle and thought I now saw him as "less than". I never did. 

I never would.  All I felt was renewed hope that our relationship could be truly connected again as we were when we were younger and with less obligations (ones that I ultimately had to take over).  Our sex life now flourished because I now understood these years of what I thought was extreme disconnect, or so I thought.  I was rejoicing because I might see my partner again. He enjoyed at that resurgence, yet interpreted it as validation that his angry and abusive behavior effected the change in my behavior. Frightening thought, it makes me grieve more that he could possibly think that.

But he never believed that I wanted his help, his input.  His growth and happiness in who he was as a man.  I would have given everything for him.  Ironically, he is so proud that he can do these things himself now, in fact demands it.  Its all I wanted, but with me in the decision-making process, like a team or a married couple.

But he is still doing it: the all or nothing. Crazy making. Him vs me.  Him vs the world.  With a partner (aka my replacement, his girlfriend) to buffer and pad his life and joy.  Its all sparkly again, without big bad me.

And now his things are gone.  The void is there, the grief is there.  The fact that he was not strong enough to face his vulnerability without blaming or hurting me, his pain overriding all else.  Triggering his survival instinct to claw like the animal he now acts like towards me.  

A small act, but I saw it.  He used to place our newspaper on the stoop for me when he left for work in the morning.  Yesterday, I saw the paper thrown down farther on the driveway almost to the street.  And I knew he did it, probably kicked it down, as he would kick me if he could.  I am the one that is so mean to him.  The evil one, he believes.  

And the truth is, I still love this man, for whom I grieve our loss.  I must, because what our live had been was real.  It was important and filled with love.  

Being strong enough to look at my fear

I have a face that is moonfaced.  I always have, and now with the slightly overweight physique, it feels heavier.  Not who I like to look at, or I necessarily identify with.  But it is not a horrible face. Nor an unpleasant one.  I look at my eyes, and I see humor and intelligence.  Kindness.  It is what I do feel in my heart.  But then my eyes migrate down, and I see my pouch, the slightly overhanging one over my jeans.  My upper arms are heavy too, but also strong so they have a masculine feel, not very feminine.

Inside, I know I am a good and beautiful person. And it takes me by surprise, sometimes, when I see a photo of myself, because I dont feel as how I look.  Older, more heavy.  Does that sound as contrived or stereotyped? Yes, it does.  But I know I am not physically ugly, just not a ten.

And when I look at men I find attractive, I think they won't find me the same. And that stinks.  The men who might find me attractive, are those who dont take care of their own appearance- and I feel I  do, so what is the disconnect?  Time for more honest appraisal of how I am living my life perhaps.  Fair is fair.

Grandma's cup

Sunny morning and I am sitting here with a hot cup of green tea, drinking out of my grandmas's favorite tea cup.  It is thick walled, and feels good to the touch.

The presence of people still live in the things that they loved, used, identified with.  I believe this, even as I know that presence is even more strengthened if the people who knew them are still around.  Such as it is with my old partner. But his voice is starting to mellow into the background with the other voices of my past, of my home.  True, he still exists in real life, but less so for me.  A faceless voice for when he calls the kids and I happen to hear him on speakerphone, or an angry disinvolved text to me.  It is the reality that this will not be a loving co-parenting situation, if there ever truly is such a thing.  I have drawn boundaries around someone who chose to step on them, abuse is a non-negotiable past that does not change with time. At least for me, and I will try to not look back unless it is to provide a momentary glance, certainly without fear.

I need not look back because the truth is that with the events of physical abuse, my feelings were also wrapped up  in all the feelings that so many, especially those  "cast aside" (which in truth was, in my case, "cast free") must experience.  The feelings of betrayal (how could he, after a promise of life commitment, actively seek another, even as I honored and he pretended to honor this sacrament) and abandonment (my "family" left and no longer loves me). And I need not feel compelled to exercise in self-flagellation at this point, but instead to take my lessons learned and look forward.

But, I have grown..and I am still growing.  

If you are lucky, survival is the instinct that kicks in when you have been backed against the proverbial wall.  It forces you to look into the mirror and provide honest appraisal of what you see.  To BE KIND IN WHAT YOU SEE, SO YOU ALLOW YOURSELF TO HEAL.  And then, if you truly, truly want to make it (to not be yet another stereotypical victim), YOU FIGHT BACK.  You do what you need to do to get the training or job you need to get to make enough money.  You find out all you can about where to place your money to make it grow, how to fix a toilet, how to ask for help though you never had to before (and to do it with a sense of humor and the willingness to give it back, if you can).

And then, as these things get into place, you look into the mirror again and ask youself:  what is it I need to be happy?  Who is it that I need to be happy?  And hopefully, the person in the mirror looks at you and says, "me".