Divorce: Forsaking Fear

It is very hard not to write volumes during this time. Not that I can’t write at all, of course I can journal or write things I keep to myself. But I am a social creature – I crave interaction – and when I spend time pouring out my thoughts its more torture not to have them be heard and at the very least, acknowledged. Times are tricky though and its hard to tell often which is worse – keeping silent or speaking up.

Last night I stumbled across a blog post that described an incredible tragedy in a relationship. Devastation. I made it about half way through the story before I had to stop and focus on breathing. Even though the story was quite different than mine, somehow it triggered emotions that I have been waiting to experience. Wondering how I can not be feeling them. Well, they arrived. My head started spinning and I could feel my body filling like a sinking boat taking in furious waters. Meira was calling out from her crib, wide awake and not wanting to be coaxed into laying back down. I couldn’t bring myself to go through any more of our bedtime rituals, I called Chris trying to find out when he would be home. Amazingly he was just parking outside and arrived within a few minutes.

As soon as he came in, I left. I cried driving to my place, I cried brushing my teeth, and then I crawled in to bed and cried myself to sleep.

I thought to myself, I am going to write this all out tomorrow. I am going to publish the story so that everyone knows the truth. I can’t take this any more.

But when I woke up this morning, some of that determination was gone.

I laid in bed for a while wondering what I should do since Chris has the kids today.

I finally got up, ready, and off to have a coffee to start with.

Every day seems to bring new complications and pain. With all my heart I want to keep from hurting any one, especially Chris, if at all possible. But you can not break apart without pain. Especially when you have been trying so hard to stay together. Its sheer shock to have a reversal of energies. Like a switch of polarity, making your internal compass go nuts.

It gets too painful and provocative to speak to one another, so you step back, carry out the basic practical requirements, and allow distance to buffer. But inevitably the buffer, the silence between, becomes just as provocative. Without communication you start to fill in your own imagined arguments. Or worse, you talk to others who sympathize.

In an effort to be loving and supportive, we start to gather a crowd, build a team. One of the hardest things for me is to hear people tell me, “Well, this is what he is obviously doing, here is what you need to do…” Strategies and moves. Not everyone mind you, says this, but it happens. Here’s how you protect yourself. Here’s how you outsmart him.

Honestly, it is very confusing. I don’t want to outsmart him. I don’t want to be strategic. I just want to have my own life again. I want to be respectful of him, and I want him to respect me. I want to protect our babies from ever knowing this kind of pain.

Until last week I was still doing his laundry and making his lunches. Why? Everyone asks me. Because I was trying to preserve the atmosphere. Stand up for myself without stomping on anyone else. So that the home my kids are in continues to feel as stable as possible, even as it’s stability is deconstructed and reconstructed.

I don’t know what the point of all this is. Something about forsaking fear.

Well, Chris needed the car at noon, and so I drove over to give it to him. He was on the street with the kids when I pulled up. I got out and gave them kisses, then without really thinking, I walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

This whole thing is nuts. I don’t want to fight with you. I cannot believe how complicated and awful its getting. I am struggling to keep the noise of voices and advice at bay. You are not my enemy, and whatever you want from me, I am willing to give it to you. Please. I love you, I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to be strategic. I don’t want to build teams. I will cooperate with whatever you wish, I just need you to let me go. Please.

We walked and talked, him pushing the kids in the double stroller. We stopped at Starbucks so he could get a coffee.

I told him how cornered and powerless I felt. I told him what it felt like to have the bank accounts emptied and charges filed against me.

He told me how it felt to be responsible for all the bills and not know what was going to happen to the money. That he felt he needed to protect himself. That he was advised to do it.

Two broken people pushing the stroller of all our treasure down the sidewalk.

I could hear the advice he’d been given. I could here the sympathy others tried to help him with. The same way they did with me. How to be strategic. How to win. How to handle this badly behaving woman.

I don’t want to win.

I don’t want to beat him.

We walked to the police station so he could drop off the latest papers which I was to be served. I waited with the kids. Then he watched the kids and I went in and was served papers.

The insanity of brokenness is mind-boggling.

We walked on afterward, and I reiterated. I love you. I don’t want to fight. I cannot live like this any more though. Please, just tell me what you want from me. I will cooperate.

I don’t want this to happen. This wasn’t my idea, you chose to leave. 

And there, the impasse. The disconnect.

I don’t know if he will ever understand. But I cannot live with quiet desperation leaking out at unexpected moments. I don’t want to spend the tremendous life force in me just trying to keep this relationship from imploding. It was 48 hours from the time I quit managing the stability of the relationship, until I was moving out. No crisis, I just quit holding it together, and it fell apart. A shock to him. A relief to me.

Now that it is fallen apart, I pray that we can pick up the appropriate pieces and go forward. Without the retaliation of devastated feelings. Without fear.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.

@rachelannmonroe

Momma, nomad at heart, talker, lover, advocate, warrior

simplehonestpassionate.wordpress.com

ADD A COMMENT

In order to comment on BlogHer.com, you'll need to be logged in. You'll be given the option to log in or create an account when you publish your comment. If you do not log in or create an account, your comment will not be displayed.

Recent Posts by simplehonestpassion

Menu