Day Is Done

Some days it is good to come to the end of the day.  This day kicked my butt.  I gardened.  I worked my rear off.  I focused on what I have to do.  But it simply wasn't easy.  So, I'm kinda glad that it will be over in about half an hour. 
Break will be over soon.  I will have to go back to the schedule I had before.  Life will go on.  Nobody the wiser that my heart is broken.  Not breaking.  Broken.  Past tense.  Has been for a very long time. 
Had the chat about money....got called dear.  Topped my day off so nicely.  Yes, sarcasm.  I'm trying to get it out here because I need it not to leak out in the rest of my life. 
How can I hide?  How can I be normal?  My normal self.  Acting like nothing is wrong when my world is all wrong?  Carefully.  With planning.  Knowing answers to the questions people ask.  Taking care to take care of myself. 
Being stronger doesn't always do any good.  Sometimes just going to ground is better.  There are reasons enough in the world to make do.  I just don't see how I can anymore. 
I keep thinking how wrong I am.  How I should stop this blog.  It has made me careless in being hidden.  It makes it very difficult to not want to share aloud. 
Then I think, he's a good guy.  I should count myself lucky.  That's what everyone says. 

I Give Up

Perhaps living fake is better.  Perhaps this whole living the truth is overrated.  I am tired..  I just want to have friends and a life.  I want to be happy.  It doesn't seem like so much.  But it's like an iceberg in size.  Immense.
So, I give up.

Great Loss

Sometimes words are not enough.  Trying to speak is not enough.  Good thing God can understand my groanings, cuz that's all I've got these days.  No words good enough or deep enough.  And speaking can get me in trouble. 
Today I remembered how loss can be felt right in the gut.  Deeply.  Today I mourn the loss of being able to share.  Today I must learn to change my behavior and it is already probably the hardest things I've had to face doing in a very long time.  Today I realized for certain that I do walk alone....at least as far as people on this earth.  That I do need to keep this uprising to myself.  That I have to figure out how to live and just be normal.  And, honestly, I don't know how anymore.  I was so very good at it.  Now, I've lost it.  Lost how to do it.  But, I know that I can find it again.  I have to. 
I love smiling.  Love the look on someone's face when they see you smile at them.  Ever since I was very young, it was something that I had....that people noted.  They knew how hard my life was, but I smiled.  Now, I will put that to use.  I will smile.  I will live.  I will hope that I haven't ruined everything in my life by trying to share. 
Tonight I mourn the lack of an extended family.  Yet again.  Because there it nobody who is "obligated" to be on my side.  To take me in.  To love me even if they don't understand.  All day it's been bothering me.  It's why I feel so lonely.  I know that in order to save my sanity I could lose my friends.  All of my friends. 
Frankly, I could lose my married life.  It has brought me much pain.  But, losing the people who did connect with me and try to know me really hurts. 
I sobbed my heart out.  Snot and all.  And then I realized that I would just figure it out.  I will not lose everyone.  I will shut up.  I will be happy if it kills me.  I will figure out what to do on my own.  I won't be a burden.  People have enough of their own crap and they are not obligated to carry mine. 
And with that, I cried again.  "Why does life have to be so stinkin' hard?"  Why can't I just nicely say, "I need this space in order to regain my sense of sanity," and I get it?  Why can't I just say to people, "life is hard right now and my marriage is probably not going to make it"?  Instead, it's like I have to comfort the world so that they won't worry about me. 
See, this is me not cussing.  But if thinking counts......
I am at a loss.  I want to crawl away and hide for awhile.  I want to get my bday over with.  I want to go away for my birthday and do something I actually want to do.  But I did that with my friends as a group thing.  So, I'll be on my own.  Blah.  The loss is too much. 
I don't want people to take sides, but I do.  I want for ther eto be some people who choose me.  He will have lots.  It just isn't fair.  Welcome to the world, huh? 
The sadness is overwhelming.  How to walk on and be "normal".  I am so incredibly weary. 
But, somehow there will be a way.  There always is.  I am stronger than people know.  I have come this far.  I will keep going.  But I'm just not sure that anyone will be around soon....when I walk away.

Restore

Been working on my son's computer today.  He needs to restore it.  However, there are no restore dates available.  Dilemma.  No place to go back to.
Twould be nice if life had restore buttons.  But, along the way, it's important to make restore points.  To have a place to go back to.
I am having a weird day.  I can't seem to find my way.  I know how.  I pray.  I know God's word is true.  I feel alone.  I feel too needy.  I feel embarrassed because of it. 
I need a restore button.  Restored to the joy I once knew.  To the hope that soared within. 
Need to just figure out how to do this on my own.  It's like I have all of these emotions and it's not allowed.  So, I'll figure out how to suck it up.  How to get going.
But today I decided to do my bday with the family early......that way I can do what I want for my "real" day.  I certainly don't want him to do anything.  It would seem so stupid.  I can't possibly tell the whole crowd that comprises my life.......so, I'll endure another birthday, but not on the day.  The day is for me.  I need it.  I am troubled.  I don't want to have to pretend on my day. 
Here I sit in front of kids, choking back tears.  I wish that I had parents around who would celebrate me.  I feel unseen.  Need a hug.  Need love.  Need to tell.  But, I won't.  I'll just suck it up.  Still.  God carries.  Why does it not feel like enough.
I know how bad it is.  I guess I feel like I need permission to protect my heart.  I keep thinking I can just do it, but then I wish deeply for the ok to do so.  I am so beaten down.
Time to go and try to figure it out.  Big sigh.  Back home.  I want it to be my home.  Desperately. 
I want to be renewed.  Not just restored. 

Mary Tyler Moore Show opening

My House. My Home.

I awakened this morning to dappled sunlight coming through the curtains.  On my mind was all of the thing sI was going to do for my house.  It was fun.  But, the thing that struck me most about it all is how when I had an apartment, I did things, but I  never worried about it.  When I got married, I planned gardens more carefully than my decor.  But, I liked the pretty things; I've always been able to be content with or without them.  When I had my apartment, when I was single, I had huge bookshelves.  All kinds of books. For teaching.  Novels.  Some how to.  bible studies.  It was amazing.  I have donated more books in my lifetime than most people in the world have owned.  I do not take that knowledge lightly.  And I had pictures that I liked.  And a few little mementos.  I had a comfy couch that I hauled myself from someone else's apartment down the way.  It was a hide a bed, so you KNOW how heavy it was.  I had the important dishes.  And enough for a little company.  I had cute chairs.  For my table.  No computer.  Ha.  Unheard of. 
I loved my apartment.  And never once did I stress if I had done it well enough or kept it clean enough.  Until the day after I got married and my mother in law went to "help" pack it up.  We were moving.  She could have gone to her sons apartment, but, she went to mine.  And suddenly, I was the subject of ridicule.  I didn't think much of it at the time, though I was embarrassed. 
That day was a precursor to my life.  I have never done it "right" since.  And while I have grown in my abilities, I have faltered in my confidence.  I "get" more things now.  I get how things work.  I can see it.  It's not just about things I love....although, that is the very first key for me....it's about how to make those things fit together. 
But I have been robbed these years of confidence.  Of the sense of self worth that it takes to try to make a place beautiful.
However, I have managed to still have a home that my kids' friends enjoy coming to.  That lots of people have visited.  I put the people first, the stuff second.  I have hard wood floors.  They are not as important as the people coming in....I would NEVER ask them to take off their shoes to come into my house, but my husband is obsessed by the stuff.  It's funny, it is the one thing that I absolutely won't budge on.  My home is for people.  It is to reach their hearts.  It is to feed body and spirit.  Speaking of food, He also is not very nice about how much people take, whether they finish it all or not.  He stands over it all judging what is happening.  He knows I hate it...because I tell him so.  When he cooks, he under cooks the amount.  He is stingy with what he has.  While I talk about the chickens and the other things that hurt me, this is probably one of the most basic things at the root of all things.  This home is the place I have to reach out.  To invite people into my life.  It has to be safe.  It has to be comfortable.  It has to be loving, not condemning. 
It doesn't mean that I don't think that kids should be thoughtful, but if I ask him to quit riding the kids about what they are eating or whether they take off their shoes.  Or whether the door closes the moment it opens.  Or whether they take too much food and don't finish it.  He tells me that I am not teaching them right.  I say that it's not my job to teach everyone's kids and that embarrassing our own in front of everyone is never a good idea.  Our home has managed to be this place by the grace of God.  He has given many people shelter here.  I love that.  Regardless of it all.  He has met the need of my heart. 
I will never be an interior designer.  I will never have loads of everything.  But, I will be kind and hospitable.  It has been hard to hold onto that.  My husband whittles away at it.  He mopes and behaves in ways that show me what he thinks even if others don't take note.  But, I used to wait to say to him what I thought if he made the kids feel badly....I don't anymore.  I guess that this home is the battle field that I will win.  I will maintain this. 
I might not have a sense of how to hang the pictures.  I might not know exactly how to arrange everything.  But, I do know how to relax and let my guests relax.  I do know the deep need of people's hearts to not feel like an intrusion but like a treasure.  I know.....because I live as the one who is a bother every day.  I hate it.  I will never ever have anyone else have to feel that because of me. 
This is my house.  But, more, it is my home.  A place to build not equity, but relationships.  A place to teach and experience joy and hospitality.  In this one place I need to for certain not lose the battle.  I had started to, I realized. 
My son said last night that it looked like I'd finally, after all of these years, moved into the living room.  Like we weren't still unpacking, he said.  I couldn't say that it was because I had decided something really hard.  But, I was amazed by his observation.  It was like I became present.  Not that it was all perfect, but that it was comfortable.  His girlfriend came and oohed and aahed.  She liked it very much and settled at the table with her computer and jewelry making supplies.  It was warm.  The heat was on.  It was comfortable.  There were lights on.  It was cozy.  But, it was finally right because it had made people feel at home.  Yesterday I kept struggling with what wasn't right.  And, technically, there are lots of things.  But, for me, what was missing was the human response to rest and relax and feel like it was just right.  That did it.
This is my house.  This is my home.  Here, I draw the line.  He took so much from me.  He will not take this from others.  I will preserve it for my children.  My legacy of how to be a host.  I may not have anything else to give them, but that alone will bring them years and years of great satisfaction and fulfillment.  They will have blessed lives by simply having that one little thing from me.  So, I will give it.  I will fight for it.  I will maintain it more carefully than a mechanic troubles himself over a classic car. 
And though it takes all of my willpower and energy to stand up and say that who I am in this is enough and is worthy.......I am going to do it.  Because while I might be able to sink into feeling that I'm not worth it, he will NEVER get me to believe that the people I love aren't worth it.  Interesting.  I'm not a bad friend after all.  Just struck me.  I might sacrifice me.  I would never sacrifice them. 
This is my home.  It will be a haven for many.  Or few.  Depending on the season.  But it will be a haven.  And.......today I am going to set about making it MY haven as well.

Downing

Funny how I have gotten into the habit of downing myself.  Of apologizing.  Of feeling less than enough.  Of always feeling in the way.  It's how I live.  But not how I will live.  I have to do something to live differently.
I think he is ignoring me mostly.  That's fine with me.  Doesn't make me sad.  Doesn't make me wish he wouldn't.  Doesn't make me feel punished.  Just another phase. 
Read about a lady today who went to live at her parent's house with her kids and felt comfortable and safe for the first time in years.  Well, as was mentioned, no parents to run to.  But, I get the idea of the article.  If life is bad enough that you are wanting someone to somehow not come home anymore, it's probably time to do something.
Heard about a christian author who says that if things are really bad you might need to take a separation time for a wake up call.  I can't even fathom being able to say what it would take and how much time I would need.  Could I just say, "I'll let ya know?"  Probably not. 
Some friends got divorced.  That was his wake up call.  He acted a little nicer.  Stepped it up.  It was temporary.  And not so much towards me.  He has also had "wake up calls" when I have suggested that he leave.....quite vehemently at times.....he will listen and act considerate for about 48 hours.  Maybe.  I have told him that it isn't healthy if he'll only hear me if he thinks I want a divorce.  Something wrong with that picture.
So, he sits in his room and watches tv while I enjoy the living room. 
Even writing this, I feel like downing myself.  Like blaming myself.  Because it could rock along with me trembling and crying and being miserable right up til the day I die.  But, I don't want it to.  And for that, I feel incredibly guilty. 
Gotta get.....

Hey Girl, You're Gonna Make It After All

I am thinking that I am going to make it.  Maybe not intact as many would hope.  Maybe not as perfectly as I would have liked.  Maybe it won't look like my dream.  But, I do think that I will make it.  No matter how it looks, I believe that it can be good.  And, like "That Girl", I think I'm gonna make it after all.
Day by day.
I have to study and research.  Learn.
One little thing at a time.
Trying.
Giving.
Being willing to speak.  Today I just wanted to put it to words.  I got to my best friend's house.  I walked up.  I knew that I couldn't.  She knows much.  She knows me.  But to look someone in the face and say the things on my heart....the things that threaten to take me under....not sure that I should.  So, I will wait.  I will trust.  I will be patient with myself.  I'm worth waiting for.
I have had a good day.  Fear and trembling at moments, but mostly, just learning.  Seeking.  Listening.  Trying.  Not striving.  Simply giving it my best shot to be who I am supposed to be.  It's not easy.  But it's an interesting journey.
Will I be able to stand the crying?  The anger?  The disbelief?  The condemning heart spiritually?  Probably not, but I will be stronger than I am now.  And I will make it.

Happy, But Pathetic

Today I am working happily.  Envisioning what I want to do and getting it done.  Still pathetic in that I am dying for reinforcement of my choices.  I feel unable to just be content with it.  It feels like I'm doing it, but I just don't have the knack that I wish that I did.  It drives me a bit crazy.  I used to be worse at this house thing and yet I was happy with myself....now, I know that I've gotten better at it, but I am less happy with myself.  A work in progress.  Learning to do and be happy with what I am ale to do.  I'm simply not the Martha Stewart type. Guess there are good parts to that...no insider trading for me.  No jail time.  There's always a positive side.
It's difficult to keep working knowing that what I choose to do is never the thing that was expected.  I know that I work strangely.  Make a mess to make it better.  I guess I'm just weird.  I ALWAYS make a mess before I make it clean.  No clue why.  It's how I work.  Well, unless company is on the way and we are simply shoving stuff away to make it look good on the outside. 
I am loving my "great room".  But, feeling uneasy.  Because this isn't what I feel sure of about myself.  When did I become so pathetic.  When did it become so hard to think that anyone would think good of me and what I do?  I am pathetically in need of praise.  Real praise.  Not the crappy "oh isn't that nice" kind.  I want to do this well.  I need to make my house my home.  MY home.  Crazy, I know.  I've lived here for years. 
I feel like I've been trying to settle in with my hands tied.  Everything I want to do or try to do gets thwarted.  From gardening to kitchen cupboards.  I have found that it was easier to give up and just live with it how it was.  But, it doesn't fill me.  It doesn't make me feel pleasure when I see it.  I NEED that.  It is how I am wired.
I go to a friend's house and she has this knack of making every space feel like home.  Pulls it all together and makes it cohesive.  Even in the midst of these chaotic teen years.  I love the feeling.  The joy of looking at things that bring pleasure.  The underlying peacefulness that comes from the cohesiveness.
I didn't understand it as much until I went to another friend's home.  She is a much better housekeeper....her "oh it's such a mess" is my "wow, it's nearly perfect."  But, her home doesn't make me feel comfy cozy.  The people are the same.  But it's something about the home.  My family makes people generally at home, but I'm missing this piece.  So, I looked around my friend's house.  I realized that it lacked cohesiveness.  Lacked personality.  Good stuff.  Just no sense of how it all goes.  So, I determined to figure it out.  I want to have that elusive togetherness in my home.  I want to make it my haven. 
To do so, I DO realize that there are some huge other things that have to happen.  I KNOW.  Got it.  You don't have to remind me.  I remember every single day.  All day. 
But, I'm learning to deal with the things that I can FIRST.  I can't fix everything else.  But I can do this.  At least I can try.  And keep trying.  And learn.  It's coming to me.  Slowly.  The ability isn't the hard and pathetic part.  The hard part is feeling the ability to allow myself to be proud of myself.  Somewhere I have hidden that part of me away.  Because she couldn't get knocked down anymore. 
Hey hey oh playmate.  Come out and play with me......I want my playful, whimsical self back to do the things that are FUN.  That make life pleasurable.  It's like giving birth.  Slow and painful.  But with great joy as well.  With anticipation.  This pathetic will pass.  Because that is not who I am.  I am strong.  I am full of courage.  I am smart.  I am creative.  I am kind.  I am understanding.  I am compassionate.  I am willing.  I am persistent.  I am hopeful.  I am worth knowing. 
Off to being happy, minus the pathetic.

If at First You Don't Succeed

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.  So, on this brand new day, with birds singing and the sun tucked behind the clouds, I am going to keep on trying to do the things I need to get  done. 
I am going to try to live my life kindly.  I am going to try to live my life truthfully.  I am going to try to live my life joyously.  I am going to try to live my life.  Not just let it pass by.  It's easy to let it pass by.  Too easy.  Getting caught up in "I just can't wait until this is over."
I have to say that I have been successful in the realm of doing this raising my kids.  I have absolutely been amazed by every stage.  No stage too big.  No stage too small.  Just fabulous.  And these young adults they have become and are quickly becoming make me look forward to the men and woman that I will one day simply be able to have a relationship wiht.  It really is FUN.  Hard work?  Yes.  Painful at times?  Yes.  But unequaled in any other arena.  They have exceeded every dream.  Bounded ahead on every experience I could have hoped to have had as a mom.  To them, I owe the ability to keep going.  Yes, God, I know, of course.  But God gave me these gems to brighten the world.  To teach me about change.  To allow the deepest of love which flows both directions. 
Some people get that out of marriage.  I have not.  I have spent much of my married life trying and trying again.  Wanting to walk away, but getting up and giving it another go.  This which you read isn't about a woman who is frail or who has no stamina.  This is about a woman who has given.  Who continues to try, although it is in a very new and different way.  However, it is also about a woman who had to finally grow up.  Who had to realize that the prince turned into a frog and not the other way around.  Who had to call life what it was in order not to lose her mind.  It's about a woman who is desperately seeking to succeed in pleasing God even if it looks like total failure.  A woman who is exploring all of the options.  Thinking creatively.  I know, right?  Me?  Creative?  I have always looked for ways to make this family work.  I have invested time and energy and infused my very being into helping this man I married not to waste the time with his children or with his wife.  I have begged.  Literally.  I have tried to let him see the beauty of the whole so that he would take his part.  I have let him know that there are things I won't do.  I have heard what he wants.  I have tried to be those things.  Somewhat failing....ok, at this point, epic failing. 
so, when I say try, try again, I know that many of you will think, "she's going to go back to what she was before...".  But, I'm not.
I am getting a little bit stronger every day.  Stronger to stand.  Stronger to absolutely say what I need to happen....and to mean it....to follow through.  I've said it before, but I can't follow through.  He is bigger than me.  Quite possibly smarter than me.  He is more influential than me in our arena.  But I am learning that none of those things mean that I have no say over my life.  Those things don't mean that I am not allowed to choose.  Well, honestly, if I could have chosen, he would have decided a long time ago to BE loving and not just like the idea of loving.  He likes the idea.  He likes the possibility.  He doesn't have that for me though.  Never has. 
Looking at those pictures of that young couple last night reminded me so intensely of the man who refused to give me the massages when I was pregnant....well, except once when it lasted a few minutes before it was sex.  Who refused to be helpful during the births.  Has a mind like a trap, but couldn't be encouraging or helpful for the mama of his children.  I thought it was stress, but really, not so much.  It never really bothered him what I was going through.  He always thought I would simply manage.  He has figured out that I DO manage.  I do live with what comes and figure it out.
However this time the figuring has come up different.  I have to be more willing to stand up.  I have to be willing to let others see me as bad and as unwilling.  even if it is far from true.  I have to try.  It's hard to know that I'm on a road that means that all who see will say, "I just don't understand why she would do that to that good christian man."  And I HAVE to be able to hear it and not fight it.  Not correct it.  Frankly, that is going to be really hard.  Harder than anything I can imagine.  Because I don't have brothers and sisters who will stand with me.  I don't have a mama and daddy who will come to my side.  I don't have that kind of life.  And he has known that.  I told him long ago that if I had had somewhere to go that I would have.  He knows I don't.  It has given him to much freedom.  Freedom to treat me poorly and think that I am trapped.  Sadly, even I have begun to act as if I am trapped in this nightmare. 
I am not.  Though I keep having to try at this new mindset; though it is not set in where it is my default, I get up every day trying again.  Trying to learn what it is to be valuable.  Not to look for being valuable in his eyes.  I AM valuable.  And, I might not have a family to run to, but I have skills and I have a God who has never ever in all of my life failed to provide for me.  My husband's mistake that has finally turned into his failure is his belief that because he holds the purse strings then I will be kept in line.  What he DOESN'T know or acknowledge is that all of our provision comes from the Father.  He can use anyone of anything to provide. 
I am going to live as if I'm free.  Though I feel entangled.  And if I don't succeed today then I'm going to get up tomorrow and try it again.  Because now I'm not trying to please someone else, I am trying to please the One who knows me.  And I am trying to find the woman I really like.  I know she's here.  I can hear her whispering now and then.  I wish I could talk to people.  Wish I could tell them.  But it will have to be good enough to scribble upon these computer pages and let it go. 

Victim

I AM TIRED OF FEELING LIKE A VICTIM.   I am sitting here in my house needing a blanket and I already am wearing three layers.  Have a space heater going.  I am chilled to the bone.  I am feeling physically my emotional pain.  I hate it.  I get it, but I HATE IT. 
I was sitting here remembering good times too.  Trying to focus on that.  On how things could be.  But, in those times, I had to put in immense amounts of effort.  He did not easily get happy.  He did not easily participate.  He did not easily choose to be someone who made the people in his family feel good.  So many little things I did over the years to "make it better".  Things the kids have learned too. 
I am so very tired of living like this.  I want my bedroom.  I want a new bed.  I found a FREE king sized bed that was hardly used being given away by FRIENDS, not strangers....and he said..........NO.  I don't like my bed.  My grandpa died in that bed.  It isn't comfortable to me because the heater broke and it doesn't stay warm anymore.  I want my own room.  I want my own bed.  I want time to figure out if I can give this more of me.  I know that I SHOULD.  I just can't right now. 
But the whole victim thing nauseates me.  I want to be alive.  I want to be in my home freely.  I want to talk and laugh and have days that are full.  Instead, it's like tonight where I thought I was ok and then I nearly ran into him in the kitchen.  I'm sure that my startled reaction said loads. 
I suck at charades.  How is it that I'm not allowed to ask for what I need and actually GET IT?????  Ok, you got it, I'm kind of pissed off.  Seriously.  What is it about.  I'm sure that he's not going to make any waves right now because his mama is coming and God forbid that he should not have the perfect life. 
I have no clue how we will handle that time.......it is totally beyond my imagination. 
I need the space.  Desperately.  Fervently. 
I have no place where I am not a bother.  No place to belong.  No place to get to go, "it's ok here."  If I had a mama.........I'd go home.  Then, I'd come home and tell him to get moving.  I'd have someone who could love me.  Right now, I feel like I'm alone.  Not that I mind alone.  Hard to explain.  Feel like I don't have anyone that it's within my rights to say, "my life is hell and here's why.........".  A mama would be that. 
Yep, sick and tired of the victim.  But, unwilling to be rash.  STUCK.  It sucks.  Royally.  And I am pissed off that he doesn't even have anything to say but, "you bought a mixer?"
Glad I left my thrift store stuff in the car.  I mean, talk about scared....got home and hid it in my van under a shirt.  Left it there.  SO, brave enough to go get it but terrified to bring it in.  That's crazy.
What to do.......
I know, good christian women already know.  I think I've already established that I'M NOT HER. 
If there are stages, this is the anger stage. 

Home

I want home to feel like home.  Coming here when he's home is killer.  Like walking in the sand dunes.  Plodding.
Today I saw pictures of a young couple as they were at the hospital for the birth of their first son.  The looks on their faces.  The way he helped.  Wow.  Filled me with a longing.  A realization of how hard it really has been.  I always wanted to feel that relaxed.  That close.  But, I don't. 
Wow, I just had to click off.  He keeps coming in.  Waiting for the footsteps.  Wondering.  Trying to relax.  Trying to realize that I'm a grownup and allowed to do what I choose on a computer.  That this is a safe way to get out what I need to.
Being home has some good things.  I like it with the kids.  I really do.  I like it alone.  But, I don't like it with him home.  Not at all.  It is so stressful.  And it's like......it's like when you've worked a lot for several days.  Worn out.  Ready for a break.  And even if you have more to do, if you sit down, you finally realize what your body needs and it's like you can't get back up again.  That's where I am.  It's like I've sat down.  Let down my guard.  Started looking at what is true.  And now, it's like I can't get back up and deal with things how I used to. 
It's a good home.  Full of good things.  Full of the life of my children.  I just ca't seem to pull myself up and get it done anymore.  I can't seem to play the game. 
It makes me so sad.  It used to feel like if I just kept at it, just kept trying, just tried to make it right, then it would be.  Now, I just feel stupid. 
So, here I am at home with my heart racing.  My teeth chattering.  Huddled over.  Wondering if I am a heathen because no matter how hard it is, I just want this to be done.  Wondering why people aren't allowed to talk about such things.  Wondering what would happen if I just went "blah" and said it all out to someone. 
But, I don't need to be gathering allies.  That's not what I need.  I just need to be heard.  To know that someone gets me.  Sees me.  Understand in some way. 
Here I am.  I am home.  It is nothing like I imagined it would feel.  As a matter of fact, it is everything I would never have wanted or thought that I would end up with.  I should have waited longer.

Worn and Weary

My mind has so many plans.  Hopes.  Dreams.  I am a person of great hope.  I love to encourage.  Love to see people succeed.  Love to see them find happiness.  Love to help them find their wings.  It blesses me deeply.  And, I also love having my own hopes and dreams, goals and plans.  Love working toward them.  It is so deeply difficult these days.  Today, I took time to go to thrift stores.  I was trying out being brave.  Getting things I have wanted  around my house for several years.  It's always so easy for me to allow others to have. 
I used to be fine with deciding what I wanted, what I needed and what I could afford and what I was willing to give up if I REALLY wanted something badly.  Now it's like it's not an option.  Buying food for the family is questioned.  But, if I take a really deep breath and just decide to do it anyway, then I can.  Today I did that.  I figure, "how can it get any worse?" 
I wish that life were different.  Today I was asked if I sleep on the couch when friends of the kids are over.  I do.  For months I have struggled.  The peace that I have finally made is that this is what it is.  It is the truth.  Not pretty.  Not great.  But, true.  And there is some relief in that.  Frankly, I sleep better than I did hugging the edge of the bed and crying.  Trying to please.  Failing.  Needing to do more.  Needing to give more.  Being berated before sleep about money matters.  Having him calling the bank as I was trying to sleep to see how much money had been spent that day.  "Somebody spent x amount of dollars." 
"Gee, duh, I wonder who that could be." 
So, the reprieve is good.  If I can make it through the evening, then at least those hours are better.  How to do it any other way is beyond me.  I can't possibly tell anyone how deeply wounded I am.  Can't express how I can't give any more to that part of life at this point.  I don't know or pretend to know what God has for the future, but I know that He knows.  Good enough. 
Lately, I'm just trying to get the idea that He can love me where I am.  I don't feel lovable.  I have been put down.  Looked down on.  It's so hard for me to feel like anyone will care these days.  Even God.  But I choose to believe it.  I know I don't deserve it.  I can only be where I am and who I am.  I can't make me better.  I can't fix everything.
Some days I wish for a place to just talk.  To say what I need to say.  I have the ability to say some things, but not all that I wish I could.  And that holding back is becoming wearing.  I do want to honor to some degree.  I don't know exactly what that looks like. 
I am tired.  For so long I have held it together and now I feel like I am falling apart.  I just keep thinking that maybe nobody will notice.  People tend to see what they expect to see. 
I am worn.  I am weary.  But, I am sheltered.  I am loved.  And that makes all of the difference.

When in Doubt

Some times of life push me into doubt.  It didn't used to.  I have always clung strongly to the verses in James that talk about praying as one who believes.  Who is not like the waves of the ocean.  But, there are times now in my life when I can't decide if I want to eat, what I want to eat, or if I should eat.  I can't decide so many things.  Like, what to buy.  What to wear.  What to do next.  Whether to sleep in or get up early and get things done.
Doubt.
It's lousy.  It strips away confidence.  It keeps me from accomplishing.  It keeps peace away.  No matter what I do, it feels like it will be wrong.
It is not a gift to give someone you supposedly love.  The gift of doubt.  Yeah, right.  It is traumatic.  It strips away willingness to try.
But, I am finding again the willingness to risk.  The desire to try though I might fail.  And failing is not acceptable in my marriage.  It gives way to "I told you you should play it safe."
I've never done anything in my life that I'm proud of that didn't involve risk.  That didn't involve having the faith to know that God can make it good even if it doesn't turn out how I hoped.  But, somewhere along the way, I lost the will to give my life that.
Now, I am going to try again.  Try to do great and fun and wonderful things that bring me satisfaction and challenge.  I want to be ME.  So, I am going to cast my doubt on Him.  Going to try to give my anxiety a strong heave ho.  I know that I'll fail sometimes.  But, I also know that in the moments of success, I will grow just a little bit stronger. 

Miranda Lambert - The House That Built Me Live Performance At ABC News

A Little Bit Stronger - Sara Evans [w/ lyrics]

Gone Country

So, the tunes I turned on turned out to be the country station. Good for me.....never fails to make me smile.  Ever.  Even on the worst days.  Got my son going too.  What funny verses there are.  Maybe they are so funny because they are so true?
But, on to important things....as I went back to my work in the living room, two things happened.  1)husband called and said he'd be working very late. Breath. Deep breath.  Lifted weight.  2)I found a notebook that my grandpa had written notes in.  I had never read it before.  Just looks like a little black notebook.  Probably thought that it was an address book.  It wasn't.  It has his thoughts.  Some of his Bible studies.  I opened to a page entitled, "Love Lifted Me."  Talk about tears.  Talk about God answering. 
Yes, here in the midst of my not knowing how to do or be what I am "supposed" to be, God sent me tangible reminders of love.  What a blessing.  It may sound small, but to me, it was a miracle. 
Hope that your deepest heart needs are met today.  That the answers are bigger than the problems.  You are loved.  And nothing, absolutely nothing, is too big or too bad to talk to the Father about. 

Remember the Former Things

You know, I was just sitting here and that verse came to me.  I want to remember who I was BEFORE.  I didn't worry about whether I was good at this house thing, I just laid back and enjoyed it.  It was fun.  I loved my garden.  I loved my house.  I just always wanted it to be comfortable.  Now, I feel inadequate. 
Truthfully, I used to think that marriage would be the opposite.  I thought that it was about helping the other person grow and become more confident.  I have done everything to make sure he has done so....traveling, singing, sports, leadership.....I have encouraged him in every endeavor.  Strangely, here I am second guessing whether I can place a couch correctly.  Wondering if it will be ok.  I mean, last time I got all "brave" and painted over hideous paint in the family room, he said, "I prefer white."  Strangely, he never picked white in the past, but when I painted a color, suddenly white was in! 
I need good words in my head.  I'll remember how I used to be.  And, I'll turn on some tunes.  Oh, wait, the cd player isn't hooked up....guess I'll do that next.  Anything has to be better than listening to the repeat of the last twenty years of downers.

Skills

My ego is very fragile these days.  I've spent the day working on my living room.  Since I have this time home without my husband, I am trying to be very productive.  I have done a good job, I think, of moving around the furniture.  But, I have not great ability at making it cute.  I can picture it.  Now, how can I DO it?  I'm deep breathing.  Like hearing him say all over again last summer when he went away for a few weeks and I said how I needed that time because I can't function when he's around and being critical.  And he said, "yeah, we'll see...".  He thought that I couldn't keep up while he was gone on his trip.  That made me mad.  And very sad.  And frustrated that he set me up to have to try and please him while he was gone. 
I need encouragement.  Adore my kids, but they are in their own little worlds today.  I am having a hard time.  I need to hear a different voice.  I need to know that I am able.  But, it's kind of like if you are the only one reading your writing....hard to know if it's good if nobody else sees it. 
I  think I've probably overdone today.  Tired and weepy.  Sometimes I get weary of trying to talk positive to myself.  Today is one of those days.  Too much to do.  Only me to try to pull it together.  My kids do good stuff, but in this I am on my own. 
But it's that voice in my head.  It's killing me.   I just want to silence the voice that I'm not good at this.  That I don't do it well.  It has stolen enough of what I love doing.  I hate it.  I hate that I feel like I have to keep working now because I know I won't be able to do it when he arrives home.  My body and spirit are both weary.  I am sad.  And yet, I can't seem to let myself rest.  I need to learn. 
I wish I had more skills, but I do have some.  I'm having a hard time, a very hard time, acknowledging them today.  I feel incompetent.  But, in my mind, I know that I'm not.  It's that struggle of trying to live what is true.  I need to make a new tape.  I need to know that what I am doing can be good.  Maybe it even IS good.  But, I am losing the battle today.  Hope to get back on top of it.
Oh God, hear my prayer.  I hear a voice that isn't yours, condemning me, harassing me.  I need Your peace.  I need Your encouragement.  I am hurting so much.  I am so needy.  But You will meet me.  You will be my all.  You will comfort me. 
Time to dry my tears.  Time to get back to work.  Can't do well if I don't do at all. 
Oh my, how can I do this?

Boundaries

I am learning.  Always learning.  As I am working with my kids today, it is a constant reminder of how I need to teach them.  I need to always be the adult.  Though I absolutely adore them and look forward to the day when we will simply be "peers".  That day has not come for us yet.  It's hard for me to make them do what they should sometimes because their dad is so consumed by performance.  I fight the urge to just let them veg all of the time.  It's like I'm trying to compensate.  Today, as I had my younger three children working, I was seeing how they struggle.  Especially my baby.  She doesn't believe that when I say a half an hour that I mean a half an hour, so she kills time instead of working hard.  That's because their dad never lets work time be done.  I guess I haven't done it enough with the younger ones.  I have to find good and healthy boundaries.  Teasing and having fun but not simply letting them do what they want because I feel badly about how life is these days. 
Sleeping on my own has helped me immensely in boundaries.  In knowing that I have that space.  It doesn't always work out, but I know that it was a huge step.  I used to worry about it.  I try not to anymore.  Try to enjoy how it is.  Try to enjoy the breathing a bit more. 
How to set boundaries with my husband simply evades my grasp.  I keep trying.  I need to be in charge of my own body.  Not because I don't believe in becoming one, but because he misused that scripture to take advantage of me.  And I need to learn to let it be ok to say no.  Then I feel guilty.  I have heard and read all of the christian books about how it's my fault if he is temped by others because he's not getting what he wants at home.  But, what if what he wants is devastating to me?  It feels like the more things I get, the more questions I have to go with them.
I want to learn how to be good to my children and still be a parent.  To have them work, but to encourage them to play and rest too.  It will take doing with all of the other stuff going on, but I am up to the task this spring break.  Time at home.  Time.  YES!! 
And, having a job is going to help.  Because then I can pay them for things that I feel they deserve to be paid for.  He doesn't like them to get money for working.  I think that some things are expected and some things are above and beyond.  I want to have a balanced view.  A good view. 
My kids are amazing.  They make me smile every day.  In spite of me, they excel.  They learn.  They grow in wisdom and in stature.  And, my love for them knows no boundaries. 

Awake

This is the first weekday morning I've had without my husband around.  With the kids sleeping in.  It is gloriously relaxing.  Quiet on a cloudy day.  I have so many things to do, but I have simply been enjoying the stillness.  Reading.  Being still.  Thinking.  Now, it's about time to throw open the curtains and welcome the day. 
I am so thankful to have been brought this far in life.  To have been carried and blessed.  It's easy to thank God for his goodness.  For his kindnesses.  He has been enough in the midst of my life. 
My childhood was more than difficult.  Yesterday, in church, the pastor was talking about wounds and how other people bump into them but don't cause them.  This is what my husband has always blamed.  He seems to think that since I had a difficult childhood that I should be appreciative of what he offers me.  He has often said that at least he's not like my father.  But the wounds which he is "bumping into" were created by him.  I spent a lot of time before I was married dealing with those older wounds.  and, I have always been open about them being there.  I know that he has wounds too.  From his past and from me.  His past....his childhood....created someone who does not know how to get close.  Someone who guilts instead of communicating.  It took me years to say to him that he ALSO has wounds.  He also has difficult stuff.  But, yesterday, when the pastor was talking, Iknew that it would again make my husband think, "yes, it's her past."  My past I can talk about.  My past wounds have scabs and scars.  They are not raw.  It is the wounds he has inflicted that are open and painful.  But he can never see that.  He is the good one.  He is not one of "those" people.  He is committed.  These are the things he thinks of himself.  Unless I speak to him.  Then he cries and says how bad he is and goes on....but it's just so the tables turn and it becomes about him again.  Becomes about what he has had to put up with. 
I am awake in many ways this morning.  And I choose the truth.  NO, things are not all his fault.  However, he has never been able to hear me or see me.  He can't because if he did he would have responsibility to assume and that would tear down his perfection.  He uses, not loves.  He expects not encourages. 
I hear what they are saying in church.  I know about forgiveness.  I understand it to the core of my being.  How to forgive the hardest things.  I've done that.  I get it to my soul.  But what I will never even try to make others understand is that this isn't about whether to forgive, it is about what to do to keep it from perpetuating in the future.  It is about how to stop the behavior.  I have really tried.  I have put my heart on the line.  I did what I could.  Now, I need to let God do what He does.  By holding on, I could keep that from happening. 
I am sad that I am not the woman he has tried to construct.  Sorry that who I am could not enchant him and draw him.  But, I'm not sad enough to give the woman that I really am up.  Asking me to destroy her so that he can be selfish and unkind is wrong.  Asking me to be less than who I am supposed to be and to be humiliated is wrong.  And, again, I could be all off in what I believe, but this is where I am.  I have given twenty years to the idea that I should make myself over in order to keep him happy and satisfied.  There really was no point.  It didn't work.  There was always something more.  Always some way I was failing. 
No more sleepwalking.  I want to be awake in my own life.  Living it.  Experiencing it. 
Awake.  For this new day.  One at a time.  And today holds much promise.  I will embrace it and live it awake.  I will live it real.  True to who I was made to be.

For Now

Hear my cry. 
Hold my heart near.  I am troubled and anguished by things which I can't understand.  I am hurt.  I am pained.  Love comes with a price.  What is that price?  Does it demand the death of myself?  What exactly does that mean?  Aren't there boundaries that are good and healthy?  Or am I wrong?  Perhaps just selfish? 
What is right and good.  How shall I know it?  Isn't all of life about learning?  How do I know what You want?  Really know. 
Told today that some people are coming back from the mission field by my husband.  I know that they will have something to say.  I tried to talk to her a couple of years ago when I had just been gone on a trip and and thought that I wouldn't make it in marriage.  She told me I mustn't think that way.  Basically that there is no choice.  Is there no choice? 
Am I completely heathen?  The desire of my heart is to be free from being used by the one who is supposed to love me.  I am willing to be aware of being used by many.  I don't fight it.  But this is cruel.  I cry out but who will hear me?  Who will know the pain of my heart? 
These long years have passed.  He shows no compassion.  He will play a game to get what he wants.  But there is no true intimacy.  "I want to screw you," is not foreplay.  Nor is forcing me to do the things that humiliate me.  But those things give him power over me.  Even in my own mind.
He is ashamed of me.  He lets me know.  Then lets me know how I can buy favor.  I just can't for now.  Not anymore.  For now.  For now, I have to risk what I fear most. That my worst fears are true.  That there will be none to hear.  None to understand.  That You, God will turn from me.  That I am undeserving of compassion.  And yet, even with that great fear........I cannot turn back.  Because I want to live to praise You.  I want to know what You can do in my life.  I want to know the woman you made me to be.  Unhumiliated.  Unshamed.  With great heart and desire to give.  I want to live.  Oh, please, let me live.  In Your mercy, Don't leave me here.  Don't allow me to be consumed by this.  Free me.  For now.  See me.  Help me.  I can't even put to words the messages I am given.  I don't even know how to tell him.  I don't want to hurt him.  And that stuns me.  But it lets me know that you must be here.  Because if it was only me, I would want to annihilate him.  I want him to learn.  To figure it out.  I want him to love someone with a giving love.  And I wonder that if I find out that he can how insignificant that will make me feel.  How horribly ineffective as his wife. 
I have tried to know him.  Tried to meet his needs.  Tried to be the one he wants.  I am not her.  Never was.  Never will be.  For now, I feel like I need to save the lost one.  The drowning one.  Retrieve what was once.  And what should be in the future.  Because right now I am living like one in a dream.  Can't answer questions truthfully.  Can't go to a marriage seminar....what a crock that would be. 
For now, I need the freedom to NOT make it work.  It has been my job for so long.  But, really, it's not my job.  My job is to be who I was created to be.  The thing that marriage is supposed to do is celebrate those things.  I need to feel like who I am matters.  I need to learn again self respect.  I am getting healthier.  That is bad news for him. 
I don't know what is in the future or what direction You will take me.  But I know what I need, for now.

The Idea Of Suffering

So, what I hear when I hear christians talk is that suffering is good.  I know it happens.  I know that it produces good.  God says so.  And some suffering is unavoidable.  Today there was a quote in church about God using what He hates to do what He  loves.  And, I have no doubts that He can use what is happenign in my life for His good.  I see it in the future.  He has always been faithful in that.
But, I diverge with the mindset of the majority....I believe that He can use separation as well as staying.  I have tried the staying for a very long time.  Have prayed diligently.  Have hoped.  Have not given up.  I am not wimpy.  But, I also think that I've been living an untruth. 
We haven't prayed together in years.  And when we did, unless  it was about finances, it was always initiated by me.  We don't have any God direction as a couple.  The kids and I have as a family part.....but, that is hard too.  The underlying foundation is faulty.  I have tried within the realm of staying to shore it up.  Well, I should say that I DID.  I am past it.
Going to church often feels like a sentence.  The way people talk about certain subjects.  Certain types of people.  It feels like they are sentencing those people to a reduced status.  I feel like one of those people.  Just that they don't know it. 
I am not afraid to suffer.  I know what it means to be committed.  But when I hear some things at church, I wonder how people who have been or are being abused feel?  Ok, I KNOW how they feel.  They feel like they are being judged.  Being forced to just try harder.  To do more.  Somehow, the message comes across that it is the fault of the one suffering. 
Today in church I nearly sobbed outloud at one point.  I wanted to cry out...."don't you know that suffering is inevitable in any life.  It's not all about me.  But, each person has to be able to live and cope and have hope.  And there are some people in the world who squash that."
My husband acts all fine around everyone.  My stomach hurts.  He sits near me and behaves as if that's the norm.  If there's a good show then all must be ok.  I don't want ok.  I want real.  I want truth.  I am weary of being his scapegoat.  I do forgive.  Really.  Even if it doesn't sound like it.  I do see his good.  I am just trying to protect my heart.  Trying to make it.  I know God is carrying me.  I know He is able.  But, I believe He IS leading me.  Though this road and this choice IS the hard and suffering choice.  It can be the best choice in the end. 
The kind of suffering that I was enduring was not producing good fruit.  It was not bringing glory.  It was allowing him to learn to treat me badly and to keep it up.  That is not good for me, but it isn't good for him either.  I have spoken.  Often.  I have begged.  I have cried.  There has been no comfort from him.  Only condemnation. 
It's back to the story of the chickens.  He has them.  Nobody wanted them.  We don't like taking care of them....neither does he, he is too busy.  But, he has them.  So, the boys lock them up in the evenings.  He lets them out in the mornings.  I have asked him to keep them locked up.  Many times.  He acts hurt.  Acts like he will get rid of them because I am so mean.  But he always goes back to letting them out because he can.  Because the fact that I love to garden has no bearing in his decisions.  Because it is about control.  Because what I need and desire doesn't mean much.  And he makes jokes.  And everyone teases.  But it is so much deeper than the darn chickens. 
It used to be the same way about the second job.  Still is.  That because of me, he is going to have to get a second job.  He never does.  Threatens.  He has never acted like it is a privilege to care for us.  We are his burden.  Not thankful enough.  Though I have always told the kids how wonderful it is to have a dad that works and provides.  Though I have said thank you. 
From his side, I don't measure up.  I am not neat enough.  I am not frugal enough.  I am not perfect enough.  I am not so many things.  I know that what I am makes him ashamed.  So, he looks good and uses little stuff to get back at me.  It's like punishment.  And, frankly, I am a grown up.  I do get to choose some things.  I don't need to be self centered.  I don't think I am.  As a matter of fact, it has taken me a very long time to get to the point that I could even share with those who know me best.  I still don't tell most people a single word. 
But, how can it be pleasing to God and bring glory to Him to have something false?  I'm not so afraid of suffering as I am afraid of missing what might have been if I'd had the courage to do what I felt convicted that I needed to do.  The last time I felt this convicted was in the area of finances in our lives.  He would not tithe.  Would only pray about needing more money.  I was ill.  I told him what I needed to say.  So, he never prayed with me again.  AND, he let me know that I spend too much to allow for tithing.  I said it should come first.  That God would provide.  It has never ever happened.  If, in such a little thing he was so angry, so mean spirited, I know that this idea of needing time apart is going to really make him angry.  It already has.  I wait upon the Lord.  And, as the song says, strength does rise as I wait.  I feel sadly for him.  Because when it is time, no amount of intimidation is going to overpower me. 
I don't understand how something so awful can work in God's plan.  But, I still believe that it can.  Maybe it's just that I'm so sinful that I hope it.  But deep in my heart I trust God's good plan.  Plans to benefit.  Not to harm.  And I don't think He sits around wishing we would suffer more. Joining in suffering for the faith should not involve abuse.  It's only my opinion.  There are varied views.  Most christians adhere to a strict view of no divorce and no parting.  I get that.  But I am not in that place.  I think that my suffering is going to increase soon.  And I think much of it is going to come from those who do love me and want to help me. 
Maybe, we push people to hold it together because we don't want to face our own frailties and possibilities of pain?  Maybe the idea of suffering is ok if it feels like we are being punished but not ok if we choose a rough road?  I'm not really sure.
But, I know that I am weak but made strong.  And I know that my faith is growing not diminishing.  In a real God.  Not one dependent upon my rules and boxes.  So.....here begins the life of learning to walk in His path without aid of people's approval.  And in that is true suffering.

Seeking the Face

This morning my crazy 7 month old "kitten" was laying on me on the couch.  It was early and I was still trying to rest.  He likes to get right in my face.  Likes to see me.  Be close.  I would turn my head and cover my face and he would slowly and patiently work himself around to that side...I'd twist, he'd rotate back around.  Until I finally covered my head altogether and he decided to just settle down and be content with how it was.
I have felt like that for years.  Like I've been trying to be close.  Trying to have something real.  But it is always out of reach.  So, at some point, I settled in and made the choice to live the life I'd gotten.
I've done it pretty well, I think.  God is good.  But, settling is not really my strong suit.  So, now I have to figure out what to do instead. It's a journey.  It's a good one.  Though unsettling.  God calls me.  Still.  He called me once, and I thought He was done.  I've felt unworthy.  I AM unworthy.  Yet, He calls to me.  Not to strive or fret, but to rest in Him.  To seek truth.  To live it.  To not be afraid of what is coming but to trust Him with the WHOLE story.  This is only a part.  So, instead of seeking this relationship, I will seek the face of Him who knows.  Who covers.  Who loves.  Who protects.  Who knows. 

Pivotal Points

I look back over my married life and I realize that there are these snapshots that I took in my mind of pivotal moments.  It's as if I knew at the moment that it was significant, but I didn't know why.  Painful things.  Things that hurt.  But, I couldn't label them with why they hurt me so much.
We had been married for only weeks when I looked out the window because I heard our dog whining.  He was yanking her ear hard.  Trying to make her stay.  She would, but she would stand up again and he would pull her ear again.  I yelled out the window.  I was furious.  Hurt.  Sad.  Repulsed.  It wasn't simply the act, it was the place and time and the look on his face.  She was supposed to be able to play outside.  She was a REALLY well behaved dog.  Heel.  Lay.  Sit.  Fetch.  Go to your bed.  She did it all.  But, outside was where she was supposed to play ball.  Run.  She didn't understand.  He was mean.  I was angry.  Told him so in no uncertain terms.  Angry because he took her "good time" and made it discipline time.  Now I get that it is important for him to be able to control...even the "free" time.
Flash forward a few months.  I was pregnant.  Exhausted.  Working full time.  Sick all day.  One afternoon, I got home and laid down on the couch.  He came home.  He walked by me to the basement where there was a small pile of laundry.  He proceeded to make a big deal out of putting laundry in.  He was letting me know that lying around when there was laundry to be done was unacceptable.  I told him it hurt my feelings.  He told me that those things need done. 
Second child was born.  I went with my foster mom and took both kids to see HIS parents because they weren't going to be able to get up to see the baby.  When I got home, the house was pristine.  Good, right?  Wrong.  It wasn't about a nice gift, it was about showing me how he could do it better.  How it SHOULD be done.  Again, I told him that his attitude hurt me.  He said that if I did it then I wouldn't feel badly.  Not those exact words.  But, the thing was that I should feel guilty that he could and had had to do it. 
Trip in Texas.  Had planned fun times.  I was going to get to see my friends from my college town.  Were going to go to the Magic Time Machine restaurant.  His mom said no.  He sided with her.  We never went.  Ever.  In all of the years that we went to Texas, I only got to go see my friends twice.  Once was because we met some common friends in that area. 
Then there was the family photo taking in Texas.  His mom would not allow our soon to be adopted son in the photo.  We should have walked out.  Instead, he let it happen.  He didn't even apologize to our son.  He did fight with his brother later about it, but he never made it right and told his fmaily to accept all of us or none of us.
The day he was mean to our adopted son.  Competitive and mean spirited.  Impatient.  It happens.  But, after the son ran out the door to run away, he said that he wasn't worth it.  I slapped him.  At that moment I despised who he was.  But I felt guilty.  I paid the cost of having to grovel.  He always acted and acts to this day like he's so accepting, but he doesn't have it in his heart. 
There are these snapshots of moments.  Moments when I knew that something was wrong.  Where I almost got it....but it eluded my grasp.  He looks like such a nice, helpful guy.  He works all of the time.  Women were always gushing about how he would do the dishes.  I could never bring myself to explain that it was his way of showing me how I was coming up short.  How I should be doing these things.  Keeping. up.  Doing it "right".
I have had a lot of really good times.  I have learned a lot.  But, those snapshots have finally come together to create a story.  A painful story.  I am ready to write a different chapter.

For the Good

So much happens in my life that is good.  Beautiful.  Praiseworthy.  Excellent.  There are wonderful young people all around me who teach me so much.  Who live inspiring lives.  Have big dreams.  Work hard.  I am honored to know them all.  Honored to be loved by them.
Sometimes, the constant lurking dread threatens to keep me from seeing things that are so good.  Threatens to pull the good out of focus.  But I choose the good. 
It is harder for me to keep life in little boxes since I have started this blog.  It's as if letting out the feelings and the truth of what has been happening in my life is like trying to plug up a dam that has sprung a leak. (I wrote damn and had to look at it again before I realized my error....).  I struggle to go back to the place of quiet surviving.  Of simply looking the part. 
I know that it is what makes me constantly on edge when I have to be at home with my husband now.  I don't have any interest in pretending.  I do it.  I try.  But it is massively difficult.
And I REALLY have no interest in fighting.  So, I am caught. 
But there is so much good in my life.  I've been blessed beyond measure.  My pain is great as well.....but really, it is overshadowed by blessings.  Because He has promised He'll work it all for the good.

Don't Know

There's so much in life I don't know.  Don't know how.  I wish that I could not feel like I'm a teenager coming home late.  Fearing that I have to get up tomorrow early.  Knowing that there's no place to take a nap.  Well, there's always the car.  This is not the life I dreamed of as a child.
I did think that I would be a good wife.  Thought that I had a lot to give.  Thought that it would even be....fun.  Boy, it's not.  I would not repeat the experience.  I thought I had it. 
Here I am at two in the morning, sneaking around like I have to answer to someone about what I'm doing.  Shaking in my house.  Feeling guilty for having had a pleasant, stress free evening. 
I need some real sleep.  Maybe this week.  It's Spring Break.  So, it could happen......
I am proud that I did some things around my house this evening.  Working quickly before he arrived home.  The morning had caused me to feel troubled.  We rode together.  He questioned me about my work.  The same exact questions he always asks.  What grade?  Which school?  I answered.  Barely.  Holding my breath, waiting to drop him off.  Waited in the passenger seat while he got out.  Then, he was there, waiting like somehow I was supposed to kiss him good bye.  What a heel I am, but I was shocked.  I walked around and got in the drivers seat and drove away.  Never was very good at charades.
But, how will I let the world down?  Everyone always acts like we are the marriage to count on.  Like I'm so lucky because he wants sex.  Like it's so good because....I'm not really sure why.  Yes, I do know.  Because I am good at looking at the positive.  At trying to be content with what is.  That has certainly proved to be a mistake on some fronts. 
I don't know what is right, but I know that I see mind games, verbal games.  He is smart.  He uses what I say against me.  When I try to communicate, it always turns around to me being bad.  Sometimes I wonder if I am.  And then, other times, I think that even if I am, I still am where I am. 
Peace.  Please send peace to me. 

Spring Break

Off of work for a week.  Glad of it.  And nervous.  How to keep my heart safe.  How to keep my mouth from being sinful.  And how to know how to be true and not sinful.  It's not easy.  It's very difficult.  How to honor but not enable.  How to go through and make it.....and not skimp on truth. 
Today was really hard.  Realizing that I don't seem to have a say.  But, I had a revelation today.  He can say that I can't have a sabbatical.  He can fight it.  But if he won't give me what I need, I can take legal recourse.  I hope not to have to.  But, today I was realizing that I am going to have to stand strong.  I am going to have to have courage although it eludes me often.  If I give up, my life will be worthless.  And I want to live a worthwhile life.  A full life.  A life of joy.  And yes, though it sounds sinful.....happy.  I want desperately not to be miserable.  Not to be dreading.
Tonight, as I knew the time of his coming home was arriving, my stomach clenched and I couldn't finish eating my dinner.  My head began to hurt.  I felt ill.  In every way.  And I realized how long I've felt bad.  Wow.  I'm sure it's not all him.  But I do know that it doesn't help. 
I am going to keep looking for work.  Good job.  Professional.  I want to make my own way.  I want to feel free from the constant dread.
Last year at this time he told me that we were going to be homeless.  That we wouldn't be able to pay our taxes.  That I was irresponsible.  That's because he didn't want me to spend the money I had earned to take the kids to the coast.  It was a knock down battle.  And, for the first time, I stood firm and said no way.  I said that I was going.  I would do it.  I would continue to work and that I was not irresponsible but that we could keep the house and I could have my sanity break at the coast.  Here we are the year later.  Not homeless.  Not saying that it can never happen.  Just that the constant belittling and accusing and blaming and worrying is too much for me. 
I don't want his money.  I think he should go live with it and be happy. 

Relief in Sanity

Sometimes the crazy feeling gets to me.  Like, "if he's a nice guy, then how in the world do I feel like this?"  Yesterday was one of those days.  But then, slowly, in the night, of course, it started to clarify in my mind again.  How he twists what I say when I try to tell him how I feel.  How he cries to make it about him.  How even when I clearly state, "I feel uncomfortable driving you to work right now....", he spends a week saying, "maybe you could drive me to work tomorrow."  And, today, when cars were going to be short and he was going to go to early morning bible study and I asked him if one of the guys there could swing him by work (they are mostly retirees....) and he said that he leaves 15 minutes earlier than them and that he would take the car and come back for me to take him to work.  I mean, right or wrong, I have said that it makes me uncomfortable.  I have asked to find other ways.  But, only I find the other ways.  But, the good part is that it was that very conversation that reminded me of how our lives have been.  I AM a communicator.  Though he tries to make me feel like I am not.  I will say, if given the chance, what I need......but he will only pretend to listen and then he will simply continue doing what he wants, or, most of the time, he will take what I say and make it an accusation of my own character. 
While this realization hurts every time I manage to have the moments of clarity, it beats the heck out of the troubled, muddled, confused feeling of, "everyone thinks he's so good and I can't believe I'm behaving like this..."
Years ago, a friend and I were "improving our marriages."  We both wound up pregnant.  Her life always seemed much more difficult because he was an outwardly mean butthead.  But, around this time she was encouraging me not to give up.  On life, actually.  A lot of horrible things had happened.  Now, I realize that it wasn't simply the things, it was the twisted blame.  The being forced to perform.  The being told that I was shameful.  He has never changed his mind on this.  I mean, he can't help it if I'm just not up to par, but he loves me anyway.......and it sounds so holy.  But it makes me feel like trash.  It is the view that makes me feel like prostitute. 
But, when I get dropped back into the drowning, it's hard to see, hard to think, hard to do anything but simply survive.  However, I am thankful for the moments of clarity.  They are becoming more frequent.  Which means the other times are that much more painful because I am more aware.  I'm willing.  Willing to walk through.  Willing to fight for a woman who loves deeply, is committed, is generous, is kind.  I'm tired of being viewed as the mean one. 

What I Fear

I feel like I am losing the ability to simply live.  Like I am straddling two lifestyles.  I used to be an open, communicative person.  Then, sometime during marriage I learned to talk only about the good things.  It wasn't intentionally hiding....it was this feeling of being respectful.  And now, I'm trying to be able to talk about the truth of things, but I find that I struggle greatly.  I am stuck.  I need a place to go.  I can't figure out what I'm going to do tonight.  Go sit in my car somewhere is what I often do.  I do have to go get milk.  But I can't really draw that out until bedtime. 
Nowhere to cry.  No time.  No room.  And there's always this need to be ok.  Don't want to trouble anyone else.  And lately, I've been a pain in the butt.  Needy.  Clingy.  Blah.  I hate that.  I want to be ME.  But finding her is so hard.  It's like for every layer of crap I take off, I have to spend all of this time and energy on clean up.  I just want to say, "you are not who you pretend to be.  You have hurt me and humiliated me in ways that I don't know if I'll ever truly recover from.  Just spare me more pain.  Please."  I mean, I'm not above begging. 
What I fear is that I'll have to live this lie.  That I won't find a way out of it.  The swirling mess is hard to put to words.  If someone asked me to articulate "why", I would be hard pressed.  Tongue tied.  Because it's so much deeper than one experience or some incidents.  It is a lifestyle.  It is like I've been indoctrinated to how to live a life that keeps things as peaceful as possible.  Giving that up is scary.  Because all hell may break loose. 
I am the person he takes his anger out on.  I am the one to blame when anything happens.  When a friend's jerk ex blamed me, he said that it might be true.  I will never get past that.  How dare he???  When something goes wrong around the house, someone has to be blamed, it couldn't just have happened. 
I am SCARED.  He is coming home.  I don't know why I am so terrified.  I do in a way.....because keeping up the facade is killer.  And I'm afraid that if I give it up I will hurt everyone and it will be all my fault. 
I need to weep....not just tears, sobbing.  My heart is broken.  It has been.  But now, on top of everything, I know that I will be the one to blame.  How revolting.

Help

I think I'm drowning.   Perhaps it is the self pity?  But I don't really feel sorry for myself.  No, drowning in all of this crap.  I am so tired of this horrible feeling.  Tired of living like this.  Just went and put on ANOTHER layer of clothes.  Nursing a headache.  Stressed.  Having trouble taking a breath. Chest tightening.  A heart attack?  No, dammit, this is how I feel when the "love of my life" is coming home.  I am so exasperated that I have this plan for my living room...and I can't start.  I get paralyzed. 
A friend asked me the other night if I was moving out because of something I said that sounded like I was moving...only moving furniture, if I could get over this paralysis.  No way in hell am I moving.  I'll kick his butt out.  But he says he won't go.  I told him a long time ago to leave.  Has he no sense of compassion?  He is so busy showing me how he's not my father, but my father owns who he is.  He might not be a catch, but he is honest about who he is.   Quick, can I change the locks?  I am in serious panic mode.  Worse tonight.  He has no sports this week.  Injured foot and all.  I am deep breathing.  Trying to remember that it's fine.  That I can do as I choose.  This is what I've always done when his mom comes to visit.  It doesn't work too great.  My head is pounding.  I'm not feeling at all courageous.  I want to hide.  No confrontations.  Because, I know that when it comes, it will not be pretty.  I know that I'll tell him that he has to go.  And then I guess the world falls apart.  Everyone "knows" what they only suspected....I am a bitch....and a heartless bitch to boot.  To do such a thing to such a good and nice guy.  How dare I?  And I want to be ready.  Because while I might be a bitch because of this, I refuse to resort to sitting around explaining it to everyone.  And I know....Oh gosh, I KNOW that all of the do gooders will come along and tell me how wrong I am.  How I have blown it.  HOw I am sinful.  And I want to shout, "I don't care....I just have to breathe....I just have to know that abundant life IS for me.....I have to do what it takes to live....".  But, I won't.  I'll probably skulk away while everyone whispers about me.  I'll get phone calls to suddenly meet for lunch from people who have never called me before......
My personal favorite will be being pulled aside in church to give an account....which, I won't do.
I HAVE prayed.  I HAVE given.  I HAVE made exceptions, forgiven, been patient, been respectful (well, not so nice anymore, but still trying to be respectful in my detachment), I have given so much that if I don't back up, his self will swallow mine up.  His needs.  His desires.  His behaviors. 
I'm DROWNING!!! Can't anyone care that I'm drowning and not stop to explain how it's MY fault???That I shouldn't have gone in so deep.  Should have had a life vest.  Should have.......If only.......This is because.......
And, I'd be totally fine tallking all about that once I'm NOT drowning.  But, right now, get me out of the frickin water before it's toooooooooo llllllaaaaattttteee.   h         e        l              p

One Another

I treasure the one another verses.  I used them when training my children.  I like how they influence life.  I think that they help me to show kindness since I tend not to be a servant kind of person.  I have learned to do so.  Learned more of what it means to give from the heart.  I have loved them for years.  But, I think that I have focused on the "one" part.  On the giving.  On doing my part of that.  But, I realized today as I was praying that what makes the one anothers beautiful is not one doing it for others.  It is about the anothers....the doing within relationship, reciprocal, back-forth, round-n-round.  There is beauty in that.  In each meeting the needs of the others.  Serving the others.  And today I was sad because I realized that my life has that in so many places, but not in my marriage.  And I have always still believed it is my job to do the one anothers...,but, when it is not reciprocated, it is like pouring fresh water into the Dead Sea.  It all just ends there. 
Today was a very hard day.  Crushing in a way I have yet to fully understand.  And yet, beautiful in so many other ways.  It always amazes me how life can be that way.  How is USUALLY  is that way. 
I wonder what marriage means to him....looking like it is good for everyone else?  Because it hasn't been healthy for a very long time.  And, right now, in this time of not fighting, which I greatly appreciate....it's still not healthy, it's simply on hold.  It's not talking about anything big because I can't handle any more fighting.  So, there's a kind of uneasy peace.  But there is no foundation to build something better on.  But I keep wondering how the fake is keeping the spirit of what marriage should be.  Are people who live miserably and unkindly, more spiritual because they stayed together?  I don't think so.  He does.  Because staying together is the rule.  Not being healthy.  Not being kind.  Not doing it wholeheartedly. 
And I couldn't have that on my own.  You can't make someone be your friend. Can't make someone see you.  You can't communicate enough to make someone care or feel something that they simply don't feel. 
He says that I don't get to decide.  What he means is that he doesn't intend to let me decide what I need.  That he'll only do what is good for him.  How sad that makes me.  I wish he could actually know me and know how hard this is.  How hard and how far it has to have gone for me to be in this place.  How much I've tried to be what he needed.  Wanted.  Desired. 
And now, how I can't wait for him to be gone in the morning or on a weekend.  How my heart calms when I realize that he is busy.  How I panic when I have to be with him.  Because how do I say these things?  I've tried.  Skip the dating game, I feel like I'm living the waiting game.  Waiting for him to realize that I mean what I have already said.  Waiting for him to see that my heart has been so squashed that I can't fill it back up to offer it to him again right now.  It would kill me in a horrible way to have him crush it again.  Maybe not literally, but in every sense. 
Why do I feel so abused?  Maybe because the one anothers were not given to me.  Maybe because he only wants me as someone to use to fill himself up.
But he doesn't have anything to give in return.  Because he doesn't know what I want or need.  He can memorize a song.  Trivia.  Remember facts from long ago, but I am not in that part of his mind....because I have never held that place in his heart.  I hold the "I am committed and so I will never leave" place.  And I have grown to despise it.  But he says I'm supposed to appreciate it.  That it's biblical. 
I am really hurting today.  And soon he'll be home.  Here come the tears again.  When will the charade end so that I can have some extended time to heal.  When will I be able to get off of the emotional roller coaster? 

Filling in the Blanks

Today I had to drive my husband to work.  I seriously had to do deep breathing before he came and got in the car.  I have to turn off the heat to drive him.  Even with my seat warmer on, I was shaking cold.  I am not a shallow person.  I have trouble being fake.  It's hard for me to make small talk.  Through our marriage I have been the one to come up with topics....and how it works is that I throw topics out until he finds one he wants to talk about.  I said this very early on in marriage.  "You don't hear me unless it's something you are wanting to talk about....like sex...."  He thought it was funny then.  It has never changed.  What makes these car rides so hard on me is that I have quit filling in the blanks.  I have quit struggling to find something he'd want to talk about.  So, after about halfway, he inquired about our son's new job.  All I could think is, "don't you ever talk to our kids?"  But, I knew the answer, so I answered his same questions as yesterday....which location?  how many hours? what does he do?  Then we got to his work and he got out and told me to have a good day.  I said you too.  And I drove off shaking.  Blasted the heat.  Went home for an hour in my house alone. 
I have to fill in the blanks in conversation, but I also have to fill them in for his relationships with others.  He gets information from me instead of finding out about them for himself.  Several years ago I told him that if I ever died I wasn't sure he would be able to help his kids since he never talks to them about anything important.  Just waits to get it second hand from me.  I always called myself the translator.  But it's more than that....it's like having to fill in what is missing. 
I can't be both mama and papa.  I am only mama.  I have enough trouble figuring out how to do that.  I adore these kids....now nearly adults.  they are full of surprises and fun.  They give back when I give out.  Not always in good ways, but it is definitely relational.  We work through things.  One experience at a time.  I am glad for them.  But, without them, I couldn't be here. 
That is a sad thought.  Here I sit in the house with the heat cranked up and the space heater going drinking hot tea and wondering........without me filling in the blanks, will there be any connection at all?  Not sure, but I need to know. 
Be of good courage....I keep hearing that as I pray.  I need courage.  For I am worn out.  In every way possible.  Troubled.  I always thought that I'd be a good wife.  Here I sit.  A failure. 

Hard Hearted

I know that if I say anything, I am going to get accused of being hard hearted.  Of dwelling in the past.  Of not being forgiving enough.  And those thoughts bother me.  Because I don't want to be those things.  I desperately see a need for a different foundation.  I am unable to move forward as we are.  However, he is acting nice.  Acting as if nothing ever has happened.  Ignoring my pain.  Because then it will mean tat I will change and act the same.  But I won't anymore.  I feel sorry for him.  He expects me to keep doing what he wants me to.  And I need to do something else. 
I fantasize about some time alone.  Not without my kids, but time where I don't have to keep figuring out how to cope.  Time where my stomach doesn't clench.  Time to write.  Time to heal.  Time to not be constantly wondering what I should do.  Time not to have to worry about it.  I don't know what that could look like.  I wish we could do it kindly.  That I could say what I need and that he could respect me enough, love me enough to allow me what I need.  That's the thing though......we're not exactly on that kind of level. 
I want to be able to be angry and not sin.  I think I have some very good reasons to be angry.  I think that asking him to give me a "sabbatical" could be wise.  Perhaps it is not conventional, but if it brings healing, then maybe it will catch on.  I know, what's the difference in a sabbatical and a separation.  I don't really know.  The word.  It's more about a reprieve.  A time of soul searching.  A time of learning.  A time of seeing what direction life should take.  It seems less combative. 
He has already said that I can't do that.  And I wonder. Can I?  I mean, really what's keeping me from it?  I'm a grown up.  It's not like I'm just making some spur of the moment decision.  This has come after lots of soul searching.  Lots of pain.  Lots of trying.  It's not like we had one fight and I said get out.  I am going to have to lay it all out for him, but the trouble is that I don't have a clue.  And while he believes it of me, I am not at all hard hearted.  I hurt for him.  But I can't live ONLY for him.  Especially when he has never bothered to know me and reciprocate that kind of commitment.  Marriage has to have both to really work. 
I want time in my own room.  Time to decide.  I don't take my commitment lightly.  But I do find it odd that we can't even have a serious conversation about my needs without it always turning about him.
He hurt himself this last weekend.  He is hobbling around after playing basketball.  And, normally I would jump in, check it out, make sure he gets it looked at.  He has pointed this out.  At this point, he's on his own to do those things.  He should do it, but he moans and hobbles by me to let me know how I am not doing my job.  This would be the same man who had a cow about me having to buy migraine medicine.  Or go to the chiropractor.  His world revolves around him.  And saying that makes ME feel like the selfish one.  I don't know how come.  It just does.  It's like I'm never allowed to simply say what I want or need.  There's always guilt.  If I ever hear about how my body belongs to him again, I might just kick him. 
And yet, he still says, "dear."  I literally shuddered last time.  It was a thank you for the dinner.  He is very careful to say thank you for cooking.  He behaves as if I am doing things to make him happy.  I"m not.  I'm happy enough to let him eat, but I am so detached that it's not my concern anymore. 
Wish I didn't think that he's right.  That I'm the mean one.  That I'm the uncommitted one. 
I was committed to having the real thing.  Truly was.  All in.  I just can't do the sham anymore.  Can't "play house."  I need stability. I need to be able to trust the people who live in my own home.  I don't trust him anymore.  I keep trying to bury it under.  Keep trying to make it look better, but frankly, he has really hurt me.  More deeply than I will ever be able to explain.  Because I have never mattered enough to bother to get to know.  So, now is so hard because I can't draw on him knowing me and understanding.  It's like trying to teach him over and over, but he refuses to see anything but what he wants. He wants to stick his blank in my blank and then all will be fine.....and if I have to drink or cry or whatever in order for that to happen, he simply does not care.  But if I say that then he'll say he cares.  But I've said it several times before and he hasn't cared.  He just keeps telling me how nothing should be wrong in marriage. 
Cold again.  I don't want to be hard hearted.  I just need to get better.  And I don't know any way to do that except by letting everyone down.  It makes me ill.

Greatness

I used to believe in being great.  Not in everything.  Not better than others.  I simply believed that the world was full of greatness.  Of marvels.  Of journeys and adventures.  The excitement was practically endless.  And, I used to be nearly fearless.  It's strange to me how having grown up so much on my own, I was so confident and able to move forward.  Able to believe great things were coming.  Able to see good in the midst of life.  For all of the relationships that I had to deal with that I didn't choose, for all of the circumstances that should have annihilated me.  God was faithful.  I learned at a young age.  Directly from Him.  As He made paths straight for the one who had no idea that she shouldn't be able to accomplish such great things. 
And I met my husband.  And married him.  Still believing in great and wonderful things.  Not daunted by troubles.  But, he has worn me down over the years.  Constant worry is his clothing.  Constant competition.  I didn't know that the one thing that I expected to make life and it's journey more joyful, more full, more fun, more complete, would be the one thing that would threaten to be my undoing.  But it's true. 
Today, I am buying a couch for $30.  I have a bit of a stomach ache over it.  It's beautiful rose fabric.  It's comfy, I hear.  If it were just me, I would be ecstatic.  But, buying anything causes my mouth to go dry.  My heart to race.  My stomach to do flip flops.  Because the one who could encourage me and bless me instead terrifies me.  Not by hitting me.  By making me feel small and unworthy.  By keeping his eyes always on my inability to be responsible.  My being careless with money.  My lack of neatness.  My lack of sternness.  My.....whatever it is that isn't enough.  And so, I sit here feeling the incredible chill that feels like it begins deep in my bones and consumes me whenever I'm trying to make a decision that scares me. 
His love does not cast out my fear....it awakened it.  My relationship with him makes me second guess every little thing.  It makes it almost impossible for me to decide.  But, I have made great strides.  And I intend to believe in greatness again.
I intend to live fearlessly.  To leap to the arms of the everlasting God knowing that whether I get it right or wrong, He is there catching me and causing good to come.  Not angrily observing what a failure I am.  I am brave.  Not because I am amazing, but because an amazing God has shown me the beauty and extravagance of His care for me.  Because He has carried me through so many things.  Because He has kept me alive.
I must do this.  For, if I do not, I will be breathing, but I will not be living.  He almost crushed my will.  My desire for life.  My exuberance.  My sense of peace.  Of joy.  Of wonder.  And that is who I am.  The seed had shriveled up.  Been stored away.  And I don't know why it's now, but I feel God awakening that seed of who I am.  It's appropriate that it is Spring, I guess.  Because something new is growing.  Stronger each day.  I believe in the beauty of life.  In it's simpleness.  In it's troubles and sorrows as well as it's joys and triumphs.  And I am going to reclaim that part of who I am. 
But I'm still afraid of him.  So, I'm thinking that I need to cuddle up with my Father and be comforted.  Let Him hold my hand and walk before me.  Let Him pick me up when I fall over in fear and trembling.  But, I will trust that I will get up again.  Because His greatness is at work.  In me.  And the me that He created, He takes pleasure in.  And she loves the greatness of all He has made.  Of all He does.  Of all of the possibilities that exist.