Our history as a couple has involved a lot of Husband screwing up responsibilities and a lot of me being angry.
This morning, though, I screwed up responsibilities. I was sitting with Child in my lap, slowly waking up. I decided to check my planner for the day, since I have some serious memory problems. And to my surprise, I realized that I had a meeting in about 20 minutes. So I rushed into the shower, told Husband that he needed to take Child to school, and left Husband to finish getting Child ready. Husband ended up late to work because of my memory lapse.
And, moment of honesty. I didn't feel bad about my screw up. I didn't feel bad that I made Husband late for work. I had a lot of revenge thoughts in my mind. "Now he knows what this feels like. Serves him right after screwing up so much in the past. He deserves to know how this feels." I was a little bit pleased with myself at my mistake. Revenge was feeling pretty dang sweet.
But then, I got home from work. And Husband expressed some hurt feelings over the way I handled my screw up. Because I may or may not have joked (also known as a hidden criticism) as I was walking out the door about how Well, now you know what my life feels like everyday. Haha.
Seeing his hurt feelings made revenge no longer feel so sweet. I got caught up in my self-righteousness, and I purposely said something knowing that it would hurt where my husband is most vulnerable.
I had to set some new boundaries earlier this week about finances that will protect me and Child better, and I think I got a little carried away with my problem of feeling as though I am inherently "better" than Husband.
I apologized, he said really nice things, and all is well tonight. And I feel a little more humble.
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Monday, February 24, 2014
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
A Year After The Divorce Papers
February 2013
The lawyer called and said she had all the paperwork filed. I called my friend, and she agreed to watch our child so that I could deliver the news. He knew something was up. I had talked divorce many times before, it seemed like the only way to escape the pain. The pain burned my broken heart, and the newfound freedom from separation led me to believe that a divorce would be an instant healer. Separating was supposed to be a time for me to get help and for him to get help, but I just wanted it to be done. For me, the pain was like searing flames, burning my energy, my hope, my goodness. I wanted to give him my burns. See him suffer in the heat, and feel the fire of my pain. I wanted nothing more than for him to burn, alone.
But as I sat and waited for him to arrive, the desire to see him suffer and burn started to fade. Wait, don't fade! Keep the fire alive so that I can carry through with this! I'm fading! Just when I'm about to give the pain back to him, I'm fading...
By the time he arrived, I was a heaping mess in my room, well on my way to delirium from the cocktails I had consumed to try to salvage my fire. I blurted it all out. "I hate you. I don't want to be married to you. I want nothing more than to see you suffer for the pain you have caused. I want to never see you again and for you to live alone for the rest of your life, spending your days wishing you hadn't done these horrible things to ruin our family."
"But I can't do it. I'm so weak. I don't know why I can't go through with it. I don't have any backbone. Any self-respecting woman would have left you long ago. I hate you, and I hate myself for not being strong enough to leave you."
Husband said that he was so sorry. He is working as hard as he can to change his life. He is going to be the husband I deserve. He wishes he could take it all back. He hates himself for what he's done. I never deserved it.
And I thought bullshit and told him to get out of my house. I poured more cocktails and passed out on my bedroom floor.
February 2014
I remember the pain so well, a year ago today. I see my brokenness on that day from a new perspective. I can look back and see the emptiness that filled me. The longing for a relationship with God. The longing to feel loved by someone, anyone. The desperation in my voice as I spewed hateful words towards my husband and myself.
And I am so glad that I am not in the same place I was a year ago.
The lawyer called and said she had all the paperwork filed. I called my friend, and she agreed to watch our child so that I could deliver the news. He knew something was up. I had talked divorce many times before, it seemed like the only way to escape the pain. The pain burned my broken heart, and the newfound freedom from separation led me to believe that a divorce would be an instant healer. Separating was supposed to be a time for me to get help and for him to get help, but I just wanted it to be done. For me, the pain was like searing flames, burning my energy, my hope, my goodness. I wanted to give him my burns. See him suffer in the heat, and feel the fire of my pain. I wanted nothing more than for him to burn, alone.
But as I sat and waited for him to arrive, the desire to see him suffer and burn started to fade. Wait, don't fade! Keep the fire alive so that I can carry through with this! I'm fading! Just when I'm about to give the pain back to him, I'm fading...
By the time he arrived, I was a heaping mess in my room, well on my way to delirium from the cocktails I had consumed to try to salvage my fire. I blurted it all out. "I hate you. I don't want to be married to you. I want nothing more than to see you suffer for the pain you have caused. I want to never see you again and for you to live alone for the rest of your life, spending your days wishing you hadn't done these horrible things to ruin our family."
"But I can't do it. I'm so weak. I don't know why I can't go through with it. I don't have any backbone. Any self-respecting woman would have left you long ago. I hate you, and I hate myself for not being strong enough to leave you."
Husband said that he was so sorry. He is working as hard as he can to change his life. He is going to be the husband I deserve. He wishes he could take it all back. He hates himself for what he's done. I never deserved it.
And I thought bullshit and told him to get out of my house. I poured more cocktails and passed out on my bedroom floor.
February 2014
I remember the pain so well, a year ago today. I see my brokenness on that day from a new perspective. I can look back and see the emptiness that filled me. The longing for a relationship with God. The longing to feel loved by someone, anyone. The desperation in my voice as I spewed hateful words towards my husband and myself.
And I am so glad that I am not in the same place I was a year ago.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Filling The Void
I stopped at the grocery store on the way to pick up Child and bought three candy bars. And then I ate them in the car. Last week, I stopped on the way to work and picked up donuts. And then I ate them in the car. I started a bath last week and relaxed with a warm bath and chocolate.
Why? Why? Why?
My eating habits are directly and predictably related to my moods. I still have a really, really hard time recognizing two emotions. Sad, I've got that one down. Angry and lonely? Not so much.
I try to give it over to God. Here, God, take my emotional eating. I don't want it anymore. It never helps me. It only makes things worse. I get so convinced in my prayers that this is it. I know that I use food to fill the void. I feel a deep pit of lonely that I fill with food. I feel a deep rage that gets stuffed down with food. I know that I do this.
But each time, I take it back. I give over my emotional eating and then I take it back. Because I just need some chocolate. You know, to calm down, to ease the pain.
I miss my friends from where I used to live. I've had a hard time making new friends in my new city. I want mom-friends, but all of the mom groups at church and otherwise are typically only for moms who do not work outside the home and can meet at 10:00 AM on a weekday. I need working mom friends, like I had where I lived previously. Who like to set up play dates at 6:00 PM on weeknights. So I'm lonely, but the effort that would be required to get unlonely seems daunting.
I'm angry. So angry. Every two weeks, despite my very best intentions of giving over finances to God and setting the very best boundaries I can, I get angry. Because my husband overdrafts his account and gets non-sufficient funds notices. It does not affect me directly because of my boundaries. But it does mean that Husband doesn't contribute his fair share to our household finances. But setting yet another boundary is so much work.
No wonder I like to read books for addict. I'm pretty sure you could replace food with porn and that story above would read like a sex addict. I'm justifying my behavior by how I've been wronged. And I have been wronged, but food is not the answer. And I know that. But I continue the behavior.
I think I could learn a thing or two from a recovering addict.
Why? Why? Why?
My eating habits are directly and predictably related to my moods. I still have a really, really hard time recognizing two emotions. Sad, I've got that one down. Angry and lonely? Not so much.
I try to give it over to God. Here, God, take my emotional eating. I don't want it anymore. It never helps me. It only makes things worse. I get so convinced in my prayers that this is it. I know that I use food to fill the void. I feel a deep pit of lonely that I fill with food. I feel a deep rage that gets stuffed down with food. I know that I do this.
But each time, I take it back. I give over my emotional eating and then I take it back. Because I just need some chocolate. You know, to calm down, to ease the pain.
I miss my friends from where I used to live. I've had a hard time making new friends in my new city. I want mom-friends, but all of the mom groups at church and otherwise are typically only for moms who do not work outside the home and can meet at 10:00 AM on a weekday. I need working mom friends, like I had where I lived previously. Who like to set up play dates at 6:00 PM on weeknights. So I'm lonely, but the effort that would be required to get unlonely seems daunting.
I'm angry. So angry. Every two weeks, despite my very best intentions of giving over finances to God and setting the very best boundaries I can, I get angry. Because my husband overdrafts his account and gets non-sufficient funds notices. It does not affect me directly because of my boundaries. But it does mean that Husband doesn't contribute his fair share to our household finances. But setting yet another boundary is so much work.
No wonder I like to read books for addict. I'm pretty sure you could replace food with porn and that story above would read like a sex addict. I'm justifying my behavior by how I've been wronged. And I have been wronged, but food is not the answer. And I know that. But I continue the behavior.
I think I could learn a thing or two from a recovering addict.