[Bishop's Fantasy?]
This is MY story and I'm sticking to it!Naked In My Pastor's House
2007-06-30
OK, so the title is a little controversial, but it has been a strange weekend. Last night, I was crashing in a hotel room with a friend after imbibing a little too much alcoholic beverage and suffering the effects of second-hand pot smoking during the Roger Waters concert. Tonight, I'm staying with my pastor and his wife after seeing B.B. King and a whole host of other jazz/blues performers. I just got finished taking a shower and, although I've taken a shower in a great many places, this time it struck me as odd. Oh well, that's me: odd! For the record, the title of the post also came from something the pastor's wife said earlier. She said she likes to drink Naked. She was, of course, referring to fruit juice with the brand name "Naked", but I think she enjoys stirring up a little controversy on the odd occasion as well. It can't be easy being a pastor's wife - always under the microscope.
The concert was fantastic!! We went to Saturday in the Park around 3:30 this afternoon because there was a brass band from New Orleans on the schedule. We got there a little late, but the stage was running a few minutes behind and they played for a good long time, so we didn't really miss anything. They were wonderful. I LOVE the style of music they played - something between jazz and zydeco. After they played, a group from Florida was up and though their style was vastly different, I enjoyed them just as much. Dicky Betts from the Allman Brothers played right before Mr. King and I'm sure he's very talented, but his group didn't seem to be playing as cohesively as the rest. That's just fine because B.B. King's ensemble more than made up for it. We spent a lot of time out in the hot sun, but it was well worth getting a little baked! I had so much fun. B.B. King is a phenomenal musician and a gracious and wonderful showman as well. I can't believe we didn't have to pay admission to see him. Tonight's concert was in sharp contrast to last night's, but just as amazing in its own fashion. I've had such a wonderful crazy weekend so far.
Tomorrow, I'll be going to church and I'm pretty excited about that, too. The series the pastor has been preaching on has been particularly relevant and beneficial to me and I've truly been waiting all week to hear what he has to say tomorrow. I can't say I've ever looked forward to church the way I am tomorrow. I might've when I was in youth group and anticipating an attractive male to be there, but it's not exactly the same kind of anticipation :)
To top it all off, and this is completely self-indulgent and shallow, but I actually spent time having my nails done today. There's a little place down the road from the church that does them fairly cheap and they do a great job. The girl working on mine today (Happy Birthday tomorrow Lucy) painted green and white flowers with jewels on the nails of my big toes. I chose purple nail polish and they look adorable. Shallow, but totally fun. The pastor's wife went with me. We've had a very full day, but it was so much fun! She has a great laugh and isn't stingy with it. I'm so glad I met her!
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Comfortably Numb
2007-06-30
Total change of plans. I ended up in Omaha instead of Sioux City because a friend was going to the Roger Waters concert and I elected to do that. When I got there, my friend said he'd never listened to anything by Pink Floyd except the song "Money", which he hates. And I thought I was culturally retarded! We had a great time, though. Pigs flew (well one, anyway) and an astrounaut floated around the arena. That really happened, I swear! There were illegal substances there, but I didn't partake - just had a couple of drinks. When the lights went down, we could see lighters flaring up here and there. No prize in guessing why. The aroma of herbage wafted across the arena. I hope I didn't pick up anything second-hand. I'm subject to random drug screening in school.
Another friend was in Omaha for a class reunion and I ended up crashing in her hotel room last night. It happens to be the same hotel the Bishop brought me to and made mad passionate love to me. Talk about a bizarre turn of events. It's OK. I'm doing pretty good this morning, getting ready to head out to Sioux City for the concert tonight. I'll be a good girl - really. What choice do I have?
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Taking A Powder
2007-06-29
I'm heading for Sioux City later this afternoon. My husband and I have a 2 1/2 hour counseling appt which I'm trying not to think of as a marathon torture session, then I'll pack up and head out of town. Gloriously Alone. I will have an entire weekend to be alone or be with people, whatever I choose. And, it's just the way I like it. I have no idea where I'm going to stay yet. No idea what I'm going to do, besides see B.B. King Saturday night and go to church Sun morning. Two whole days of whatever. I can't express how badly I need this! Time to be away and think and pray and do nothing or everything. Come and go as I please and not have to do all of the massive prep work associated with hauling kids around! Time to take a bath, take a deep breath, and try to prepare for this counseling session. Ugh!2 Comments | Link to This | Back to top
Response To Another Post
2007-06-28
I read what Mark wrote in his "Talk On Grief" and the first part of it reminded me of this song by Chris Rice:
He shares a room outside with a dozen other guys
And the only roof he knows is that sometimes starry sky
A tattered sleeping bag on a concrete slab is his bed
And it's too cold to talk tonight
So I just sit with him instead and think
How did I find myself in a better place?
I can't look down on the frown on the other guy's face
‘Cause when I stoop down low, look him square in the eye
I get a funny feeling, I just might be dealing
With the face of Christ
After sixteen years in a cold, gray prison yard
Somehow his heart is soft, but keeping simple faith is hard
He lays his Bible open on the table next to me
And as I hear his humble prayer
I feel his longing to be free someday
How did I find myself in a better place?
I can't look down on the frown on the other guy's face
‘Cause when I stoop down low, look him square in the eye
I get a funny feeling, I just might be dealing
With the face of Christ
See you had no choice which day you would be born
Or the color of your skin, or what planet you'd be on
Would your mind be strong, would your eyes be blue or brown?
Whether daddy would be rich, or if momma stuck around at all
So if you find yourself in a better place
You can't look down on the frown on the other guy's face
You gotta stoop down low, look him square in the eye
And get a funny feeling, ‘cause you might be dealing ...
How did I find myself in a better place?
I can't look down on the frown on the other guy's face
‘Cause when I stoop down low, look him square in the eye
I get a funny feeling, I just might be dealing
With the face of Christ
With the face of Christ, yeah
With the face of Christ
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So Far This Morning
2007-06-28
I got my financial aid meeting out of the way for school. I'm going to start in July - in less than two weeks. It's hard to believe, but this is really happening! I'm glad it's come together so fast - no time to reconsider or back out. Maybe now I'll have something else to focus my mind and energy on.
In other news, my husband and I have a counseling appointment for tomorrow afternoon and the thought of it makes me want to throw up. I didn't think we would be going until mid-July, but he pushed the issue and managed to get in with someone sooner. I know we need some serious help, but the person he signed us up with is a woman and I have mixed emotions about the whole thing. For me, it might be a good thing. If she's had experience in what we're dealing with, I'd have a qualified female and Biblical perspective on the situation and she might be able to help me in areas where the pastor couldn't. It might also give my husband peace of mind if I end up talking with her one-on-one. On the other hand, my husband hasn't been particularly receptive to taking advice from anyone, but especially from women. There's not a whole lot I can do about that except pray.
My anxiety comes from a whole other place as well. The mere concept of counseling brings back a flood of memories of my time spent with the Bishop. It scratches at a wound in me that's already so raw and painful. The thought of telling the story again is overwhelming. Talking starts the thinking and that takes me right back to the place I don't want to go because it's so hard to escape. The place of remembering, which I do with great clarity, all of the things the Bishop and I did together. I'm fervently trying to take from the experience the good things and let all the rest recede into the background. I just don't know if I have the strength to do that.
I still miss him so much! His tenderness, consideration, passion, and all the laughter he brought into my life. I went for a walk with my husband the other night and it was all I could do to hold my composure. I tried to be there in the moment, but my thoughts kept going back to all of the walking I did with the Bishop. Holding hands with him, talking, stopping occasionally to kiss. Just putting on my tennis shoes was rough and that's crazy! A memory of a time the Bishop helped me into my shoes and tied them for me - an inexplicably tender moment in a gesture so simple that it brings tears to my eyes even now.
I don't want to think about what I'm missing. I don't want to run the comparisons in my head. How the Bishop would've given me the coat off his back to make sure I was warm enough. How he heard my need for reassurance and kissed me so hard I feel it even now. How he taught me with everything he did that men are capable of the kind of love I desire and that he thought I was worth loving that way. Our time together was short, but so very intense. We made the most of every single moment we spent together and every conversation we had. I was fully tuned into him and maybe that's why the memories are so plentiful and so clear. I've never been quite so focused as I was with him. The memories take such a toll. They make me think that I'll never feel that way again. That maybe that's the price I'm going to pay for what I've done.
I want to believe I can live a meaningful life. I have so much to give, so much to offer. I'm just stuck. I can't seem to make my husband understand that the more he runs me down and lashes out at me, the harder it is for me to offer him anything good. Instead, the best I can do right now is nothing. That may not sound terribly generous, but it beats rehashing all of the ugliness in our relationship. We had a horrible conversation late last night and what it boiled down to is he still thinks he's the victim here. He said that he never asked for things to be the way they are between us. That he never did anything to put himself in this position and he doesn't deserve the consequences for my actions.
How do I sort that out? OK, I did something terribly wrong. That's true. It wasn't something that came out of nowhere, though. The way we're dealing with each other right now isn't the same as it's always been because I'm choosing different things. His behavior is much the same, but my thoughts are completely different. I know that doesn't count for anything because he can't read my mind, but if I were reacting the same as I did before, I wouldn't be here. I'd have taken all I could take and I'd be gone. He tells me he can't control what comes out of his mouth. That his words are spoken out of frustration. I'm frustrated and hurt and lonely and so many other things, but I have a responsibility to control what falls out of my mouth. Even if my thoughts and emotions aren't rational, my words should be.
Let's face it - I'd love to throw a tantrum of epic proportion and say everything that's been building in me for years, but what would that solve? I'd much rather let it go bit by bit and piece by piece. I'd rather come to a place where I feel nothing because at least I wouldn't be harboring all of that bitterness, anger, and resentment. Maybe without all of it coloring my vision of him, I could see him with fresh eyes, untainted by what's gone on in the past. I try to explain this to him. That if he could just be patient, silent, and consistent for a time (more than 24 hours), I might actually be able to find a way to love him in a way I never did before.
It takes time, though. I respond very well to what I've described. I just haven't been given the opportunity to do that with him. It's all so life or death with him. We can't have a simple interaction without the security of the free world hanging in the balance. I can't take that kind of pressure. I've tried to explain that, too. The more pressure I feel, the more I tend to withdraw. Especially with all of the nasty comments that slip out of his mouth. Comments he's not even aware he's making. Sometimes he catches himself and apologizes, but most of the time they just come out without thought. When that happens, I try to consider the circumstances and let them go, but they hang in the air and resonate long after the moment has passed. I can't help but think about what he says and wonder.
What I wonder is, are those comments that he lets slip without thinking the true indication of how he feels about me? Is it frustration, or is it honesty? Those comments taken alone could just be chalked up to a tough day, but when I consider the frequency and then string them all together, they paint a pretty ugly picture of me. That's what I see reflected in his eyes. When I believe that's what he thinks of me, then it's hard for me to believe the rest of his words because they're in such sharp contrast. When you love someone, you're supposed to be patient, kind, loyal, gentle, believe the best, seek the truth, hope all things, believe all things, and endure all things. If a person compares what they feel to that standard and it comes up short, then it isn't really love and there's work to be done.
I don't feel those things for my husband right now, but I'm trying to make choices that demonstrate them and hope that the emotions catch up with the choices. I'm not even sure I believe it's possible in my heart, but that's what God says and that's what I have to do. It stops being about how I feel and starts being about how I live out my faith. When I think of it in those terms, I feel strength. When I spend time away from my husband and consider what God says, then I feel like there's hope. When I come face-to-face with him again and begin dealing with him, I try to be consistent and do what I believe, but the feeling of hope quickly fades. That also leads me to wonder. Should I be away from him for a longer period of time with the intention of gaining strength so I can come back with a renewed sense of purpous? That might work if he were on the same page. If he were working just as hard at focusing on his relationship with God and trusting that what God says is true.
I don't really understand how all of this is working. I don't understand why it seems so clear for me and I have such a confidence that I'm on the right track, yet it seems the absolute opposite for my husband. I don't understand where this rational side in me is coming from when I've always been the one to follow my heart. Am I deceived right now? Am I crazy for thinking things could ever work between us? Am I stark raving mad for taking God at His Word? And all of this before lunch!
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My Song For The Day
2007-06-26
While unpacking, I found the background vocal track for the last song I performed at church. It holds so much more meaning for me now than it ever did before. My personal Bible study has held a similar clarity. I don't want to lose this insight by sinking into the mire of my hurts. The events that brought me to this point have been excrutiating, but something good has to come out of this misery!
Like a foolish dreamer, trying to build a highway to the sky
All my hopes would come tumbling down, and I never knew just why
Until today, when you pulled away the clouds that hung like curtains on my eyes
Well I've been blind all these wasted years and I though I was so wise
But then you took me by surprise
Like waking up from the longest dream, how real it seemed
Until your love broke through
I've been lost in a fantasy, that blinded me
Until your love broke through
All my life I've been searching for that crazy missing part
And with one touch, you just rolled away the stone that held my heart
And now I see that the answer was as easy as just asking you in
And I am so sure I could never doubt your gentle touch again
It's like the power of the wind
Like waking up from the longest dream, how real it seemed
Until your love broke through
I've been lost in a fantasy, that blinded me
Until your love, until your love, broke through
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Alone
2007-06-26
Back in Des Moines. Back to the isolated feeling. I took the kids swimming today, at least. It was good to get out and be in the sun and exhausting at the same time. Most of the public pools here are water parks, so I have to keep an eagle eye out for my daughter because she's a great swimmer - loves to go underwater, but other people don't look out for her, so she gets bumped a lot. I feel like the pied piper whenever I go where children are. Most of the mothers watch their kids from deck chairs. I'm one of the few who will get in the water and play. Today, they were congregating around me because I was tossing pennies in and letting them dive for them. Such a simple thing, but what fun! My daughter was in with a bunch of bigger kids and was retrieving just as many pennies as they were.
My son was nowhere to be found. He's definitely outgrown hanging out at the pool with his mother. Sad, but necessary I suppose. I'm told that kids can get a learner's permit at age 14 in Iowa. That's a scary thought. Whatever I have left to teach him about responsibility and making right choices needs to take place in the next year because it'll be too late after that. I hope I've equipped him with the ability to think for himself and make right choices, even in the face of encouragement to do otherwise by his peers. Maybe I'm naive, but I think he's basically a good kid.
My day hasn't been all about kids - at least not in my head. I've been seriously struggling with some things and I'm not sure what to do. I'm not even sure who I can talk to about them. There are issues I'm facing in the aftermath of the affair that are very personal in nature and definitely not things I would talk to casual friends about! I've spoken some with the pastor about them, but he's not qualified to deal with them. Not only that, but he can't see things from a woman's perspective. His wife can, but she isn't really qualified to help either. I know who is, but he's at the root of all of the problems, so that's completely useless. My husband and I are supposed to go see a counselor together sometime in July.
That's another source of anxiety for me. Given the way my last counseling experience turned out, I'm not real excited about the prospect. I feel like I need someone to talk to who can offer me a practical and Biblical answer to my questions, but the thought of opening myself up to another person is daunting. The anger has begun to rear its ugly head now. I think about the Bishop and how he knew from his experience working with hurting women just how damaging our relationship could be to me, yet he proceeded with it. I can't believe that he was acting in deception. I also can't blame the whole thing on him. The only thing I can say is that I'm terribly hurt, frustrated, lonely, and now angry about the whole situation. There are days when I want the opportunity to scream in his face, "How could you do that, knowing what it would cost me?" Today is one of those days. It wouldn't help and I don't think I'd even have the courage to speak to him that way. One look at his face and I'd probably just burst into tears.
That seems so pitiful, but I know myself and I know how I react to him. The sight of him always took my breath away. The way he looks colored by the way I feel about him made my heart skip a beat and my knees grow weak. I don't think that will have changed all that much in just a couple of months, no matter how angry I think I am. When it comes down to it, I'm not really angry at him for engaging in the relationship anyway. I'm angry that I opened myself up to the point where I lost control over how much he could hurt me. I'm angry that, even though he released me with his words, I don't feel it in my heart. I'm angry that it's over and I feel worse than I did before it started. It feels worse because I had a connection with a man who is just as passionate and intense as I am and it was just as amazing as I'd suspected. Contact has been severed, but I don't feel like the connection has been. I'm not holding out hope for anything. I don't really know what I'm feeling or how to move past it. To make matters worse, there's no Bible study at church the next couple of weeks and I feel a little lost. It helps to be around other Christians. To focus on something bigger and better. I don't want to sink into a miserable existence. I want things to be better. I just don't know how.
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Breathing Room
2007-06-23
I'm where I still think of as home tonight. I've been here since yesterday morning and it's been exhausting, but fun. I got a bunch of errands run yesterday - returned my son's overdue library books, paid fines, and finally picked up his report card. I'm almost sorry I did that. It was a dismal mess. He clearly decided he didn't need to care sometime midway through the second semester because all of his grades plummeted. What a sad thing for him because it will mean placement in less challenging classes for the fall. That's going to be a very bad thing for both him and his teachers, but what can I do? He was told his grades were important and that the same rules that apply to everyone else apply to him. He has to do the busy work and get it turned in. I understand how boring and repetitious most of the classes are. I know his grades don't reflect his intelligence. I also know he'd do better in a less traditional classroom setting, but I'm not sure how to go about finding something like that. The administrators look at grades as say he doesn't deserve to be in specialized classes because he wouldn't perform the way they wanted him to. I can understand their viewpoint. I believe a person should have to earn their spot. Then again, those classes should be reserved for kids who are obviously intelligent, but aren't properly stimulated by traditional classrooms. I don't know what the answer is. It's too late to worry about it tonight.
Besides, I'm still reeling from the day I've had. I ended up staying up later than I wanted last night because of the kids and my own insomnia, so I was pretty tired when I dragged my butt out of bed this morning. Regardless, I had to get up because I'd made plans to have breakfast with a friend. I'm so glad I did. I dropped my son off with the person who's been mentoring him and then took my daughter with me to meet our friend. She's actually more Emily's friend, but that's OK. We ate at a local farmer's market/restaurant. It's a really neat place because it's a converted fire station. They still have the brass poles in place and the big garage doors, but the inside has been decorated really nice. They serve organic foods and all of the produce that gets sold around the place is also organically grown. I went to a lunch seminar there once that was very interesting. I've tended to be disdainful about the whole tree-hugger environmentalist stuff and realized, after attending that seminar, that I was being reactive and narrow-minded.
Anyway, our little party of three grew the longer we sat there. People would come in and recognize one or more of us in the group and the table quickly filled up. It was really good for me to be out and around people and, of course, my daughter was in her element with a captive audience. She must've spent half an hour going with one of the ladies taking turns at making up a story. It was fun to watch and she was truly delightful this morning instead of precocious, like she can be. After breakfast, we headed outside to browse the booths that were set up. I stopped at a jewelry table and bought a couple of pairs of earrings. The artist seemed familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place her. We stopped at the table next to hers where I picked up a couple of necklaces and talked to that artist for awhile. On the way back through, I stopped at the first table again to see if she could make me a zipper pull for my purse (which has needed one for a couple of months). She noticed my tattoos and we had the best conversation. When I got back to Roxanne's house (where I'm staying), I told her about breakfast and she asked I'd run into the lady we saw a movie with a few months back.
This is kind of bizarre, but it's the way we operate when we do things. We went to see "One Night With The King" a few months ago when it was in the theater. It was a cold, rainy day and there weren't many people in the theater. I stopped in the bathroom after we got situated and when I came back, Roxanne was sitting a row ahead of where we'd been because there was a lady sitting all by herself. She'd struck up a conversation with her and we decided no one should have to go to a movie like that and sit alone. Because it was such a yucky day, Roxanne drove the woman to the bus stop or home - I can't remember which. Well, she's the same person I ended up talking to for so long this morning. I knew I'd seen her somewhere before. Our conversation was a blessing today.
Being back in Sioux City is comforting in its familiarity and in spending time with friends. It's a bit of a personal challenge as well. I ran into someone who works with the Bishop's wife today at Starbuck's. Since she's blissfully ignorant of what has transpired the past few months, she has no idea how painful it is when she brings up certain things. All she knows is that, for awhile, my husband and I spent a lot of time going out with the Bishop and his wife, so she brings them up in conversation. Today, that started me on a destructive line of thinking that was really hard to get past. I'm hurting so much right now and I don't want to know what's gone on for them - either good or bad. I want the best for them both. I really do. I just don't want to think it's easy for him to forget me and go back to life as he knew it. Especially when it's been hell on earth for me the past couple of months. I know that's childish, but it's the truth. I'm still hurting so very badly that there are days when I only get through by singing Christian songs all day long. If I stop to catch my breath, my breath catches instead and I end up sobbing. Today could've been one of those days if I'd let it, but we were going to see Mark Schultz tonight in concert and I couldn't be like that for the concert.
I'm glad I didn't stay in a funk! Roxanne seemed a bit stressed when we left for the concert, but something happened on the way up that could've ruined everything if she were any other kind of person. One of the small towns we drove through has a ridiculously low speed limit for a main thoroughfare and the town cop loves to sit behind a grain elevator just outside of town and catch people right before the speed limit goes back up. Well, he got Roxanne in his trap tonight. She was speeding, but it still seemed like a dirty trick. She took a deep breath and said a little apology prayer before he got to the window. She had her license and registration ready and he was kind enough to reduce the fine for her. When he came back to the window with her ticket, she mentioned that she'd never gotten a ticket before in her life, so she had him explain everything to her. He told her about the court date and that missing the court date would result in a bench warrant being issued. The conversation got a little silly after that. She asked if that meant she'd go to jail and he said yes. So, of course I had to ask if they strip search you when you're arrested. Everyone in the car was laughing by then and the officer turned several shades of red, but was a good sport in answering our crazy questions. He had to go back to his car to get an envelope and actually asked us if we had any more questions for him before he let us go. Maybe you had to be there, but it was just funny.
It set the tone for the rest of the trip. We were late getting on the road and a little stressed about getting there on time, but the concert was running late, too, so we had nothing to worry about. The concert was phenomenal. I love Mark Schultz's voice and the way he strings words together. So much so that I know just about all of his songs. Roxanne is the same way, so we knew when he skipped a verse in a couple of the songs he played tonight. I was there to worship and hear from God and I believe I did. Mostly what I was reminded of was the fact that God knows my name, knew me before I was born, and cares about me enough to listen. It was a worthwhile experience, despite the speeding ticket. I'll bet the officer has a good story to tell his buddies, too!
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Is It God Or Too Good To Be True
2007-06-21
OK, I did it. I enrolled in nursing school today. Ideally, I'd be able to go for a 4-yr BSN, but I don't think that's financially feasible right now. In fact, I'm not sure how I'm going to pay for the classes I've already signed up for, but it was so easy. I searched for local schools, requested info on one, and got a call the next day from an admissions person. I toured the campus today. It's small - only 32 people admitted per term. It's a diploma school for an LPN. The waiting list around here is 2-2 1/2 years for the other schools for the same program. The one I applied at doesn't have strict entrance requirements - just a test, which I passed with a huge score. I wasn't prepared to do that today, but I test well, so it was no problem. I was so proud to be able to come home and tell my son about how I did on the test! He was actually impressed.
I still have to talk to a couple of friends who are nurses to see what I'm getting myself into and whether or not I'm taking the right route. At the very least, I'll have spent a year in school with credits that will transfer because the school is accredited. It's newer, so all of the lab equipment is new and I think I'm doing the right thing. I can start classes July 9th and take Anatomy & Physiology and Math (at 4 credits each) the first 11 weeks so that I'll only have to take 2 nursing classes when the official term starts in October. That will allow me to ease my way in and hopefully build my confidence - if I do well. I'm nervous and concerned about the financing, but everything up to this point has fallen into place. I might actually have a diploma and marketable job skills before I turn 35! If I find that nursing is suitable and I want to keep going with the education, I could still squeak out a 4-yr degree before my son graduates high school.
It seems like a huge undertaking right now and will require some cooperation on the part of my husband (which I may not get), but come hell or high water, I'm going through with this! I've supported him and taken on so much of the home responsibilities when he went back to school (and even when he wasn't in school). It's not that I think he owes me anything. It would just be nice if, for once in our sorry marriage, he could share a vision with me and get excited. It's an exhausting thing to have to drag a person alongside you for a lifetime!
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For Kenneth
2007-06-21
What they do when you're not around to see!
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Fed Up, But Trying
2007-06-19
I'm not a saint. I'm a wreck half the time. Today, I'm completely nonfunctional. I'm tired of being a single mom with a husband. I'm tired of working like a dog at home from sun up to sun down. I'm tired of coming in last and then getting dumped on because I speak up for myself. Yesterday took me back in time to 4 1/2 years ago. That was just before my husband lost his job in South Sioux. Our daughter was just under a year old and I don't think I slept much that whole time. The first 4 1/2 months, I pumped every 3 hours and fed her every 2 because she was so tiny and she needed the breastmilk, but wasn't developed enough to figure out how to nurse on her own. I did everything for her and for my son. I attended every school function, made every costume, planned every birthday party, activity, play date, and took the kids everywhere. They've been to the zoo, to farms, to the park, and pretty much every other place you can imagine. I played with them, talked to them, cared for them, and poured my heart and soul into them.
I tried to do that for my husband, but he took it all for granted. He'd help anyone who said they needed it, but wouldn't even change a diaper at home unless he had to. The more he helped other people and the more time he spent on the computer or at work or bowling on a league or volunteering at church, the more slack I had to pick up at home until I was doing almost all of it. He made it seem like that's what a stay-at-home mom does. I was happy to do all of the stuff for the kids, but the resentment was building for all of the things I was expected to do for him and all the times I came in dead last. Yesterday was just like that. He went off to help a single mom put up a basketball hoop. Yes, it was a nice thing to do. Yes, I would've encouraged it if I'd even been considered. But I wasn't. We have a list of things a mile long that need to be done around here just to get the place liveable.
I want the kids to be able to eat in the dining room, but there were packed boxes of stuff piled in there of things that belong in the living room. Things that couldn't get put away until the painting was done. Painting my mom drove over 3 hours to come help me do, but my husband wouldn't lift a finger to help with because his back hurt. My back hurt too, but I got it done yesterday while trying to corral my 5-yr-old daughter. While he was off helping someone else. I don't have any friends to call here. I don't have any help whatsoever and all I want is to be able to eat at the dining room table and have a living room I can walk through without getting another bruise from running into the corner of a box.
Today, my daughter found a toilet brush in one of the opened, but not yet unpacked boxes in one of the bathrooms. Yet another thing I haven't been quite able to get at because I'm too busy trying to keep up with the laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, cooking, painting, unpacking, and taking care of the kids. Kids who resent me asking them to do the smallest chore and do it half-assed, if at all because that's the example they're being shown. My husband, the big hero, put up two towel rings yesterday after the work he did for the other person. He put them in the wrong place and then expected me to be grateful because he did it at all. I'm not supposed to say they're in the wrong place because I'm supposed to just accept whatever he does and not show the slightest sign of rejection.
Then, last night he asks if he can take vacation time in August to go to a conference where he'd be a volunteer "just helping out" for a software company. His boss at work told him the company wouldn't pay for the trip or give him the time off because it's not job-related. She told him she'd let him go this year since he already comitted himself to helping, but she didn't want him to go and wouldn't allow it for next year. The software company will pay for his trip, but he has to use the vacation time if he expects a paycheck for the week he'll be gone. To me, the decision is pretty cut-and-dried. The trip isn't work-related, he got himself into trouble at a presentation during the last trip he took because he didn't clear the presentation with his boss before he gave it, his boss told him not to go, and he'd be going to Las Vegas - the same place he went last year when he ended up going to a strip club and paying for a lap dance. That would have been around the time I was begging him to go to marriage counseling with me. Just before I had an affair. The trip this year would be unethical because it would be going against what his boss told him. It would likely end in disaster because of where our marriage is right now. If I say no, then I'm the one who wouldn't let him have his way. I shouldn't even have a say or be able to talk about ethics because of what I've done.
I can't justify what I've done. It was wrong. I can and will say that a man's responsibility is to put God first, then his wife & family, then look around to see where he can serve. My husband hasn't put me before other people. He does nice things for others, but it generally ends up adding to my burden. The more slack I take up, the more that's expected of me. I'm an extremely organized and capable woman. I can carry a pretty heavy load. I love my children and I want the best for them. I'm not a martyr. I do what I do because it needs to be done, because I want to see my children happy and well cared for, because I'm capable of doing it, and because what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I just want to say something about it.
If a man renders himself unnecessary by choosing to allow his wife to shoulder more and more of the burden, should he really be surprised when she wakes up one day and realizes she's doing the work of two people despite the fact that she has a husband who's supposed to be her helpmate? When he accuses her of laying a guilt trip on him when she tries to talk to him about it, should he be surprised when she withdraws and doesn't bother wasting her words on him? When he's dumped the load on her to the point where all her physical and emotional energy is being exhausted each day and she doesn't get much in the way of positive feedback or attention, should he really be surprised when she doesn't have anything left to give him?
All of that having been said, I'm going to go and scrub out the bathroom that has been doused in toilet water thanks to my little doll who went in there to go potty and wash hands. Yep, that's all the time it took for her to decimate the room. Then, I'm going to finish rearranging the living room so that all of the paint chips can finally be vacuumed up and I can call it safe and comfortable. Then, I'm going to rearrange the dining room so we can eat at the table. I'll unpack a bunch more boxes, but not the ones with the family pictures in them. I don't think I can face them right now. All of this is going to happen after I stop sobbing so that my poor 13-yr-old son (who's worried enough at my reaction to the bathroom mess that he's downstairs finally doing the vacuuming I asked him about 20 times this morning to do) won't freak out and be scarred for life. And I'll have to take some time with both kids doing something good so that it isn't another "all work and no play" sort of days the way it has been.
God will give me strength to get through this. I won't complain any more about it today. I'm physically strong and capable and this is a whole lot better than women in third world countries have it. I'll work on being more grateful. I will focus on whatever is true, right, noble, pure, lovely, admirable, praiseworthy, and excellent. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I will hold me head up high and do everything to the glory of the Lord. My outburst is over and I'm gonna be just fine.
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I Know
2007-06-18
It's been a dreadful day. I'm homesick. I'm lonely. My husband chose to go help a single woman (who already had plenty of volunteers) from work put up a basketball hoop rather than come home and take care of the things that need to be done around here. I'm hurt and angry, but I'm going to choose to sing this song instead and believe somebody loves me the way it describes - that somebody thinks I'm worth that:
Well I don't wanna' take up anybody's time
I'm just givin' my opinion with a rhythm and a clever rhyme
I don't want these words to sound
Like I think I've got it all figured out
But there are a few things I can say I know without a doubt
Chorus:
I know there's a God who knows my name
And a Son who died to take the blame
I believe that Jesus is coming back
'cause promises are promises and facts are facts
These days some say there's no one way to believe
Just keep it loose, you're free to choose
There's no absolute it's all relative you see
Calling all defenders of the truth
Live a life that spells out God's worldview
Let these words be heard in everything you say and do
Chorus:
I know there's a God who knows my name
And a Son who died to take the blame
I believe that Jesus is coming back
'cause promises are promises and facts are facts
BRIDGE:
As sure as there's a law of gravity
That says what goes up must come down
This is the ultimate reality
That God is, and God loves, and God can be found
Well I know there's a God who knows my name
Promises are promises and facts are facts
And a Son who died to take the blame
Promises are promises and facts are facts
And I believe that Jesus, He's coming back
(Chorus)
Promises are promises and facts are facts (x3)
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Father's Day
2007-06-17
Today is kind of a mixed bag day for me. I could talk about my father, but I'm not sure what I'd have to say. I used to despise the man for choosing alcohol over his children. I didn't understand what alcohol does to a person. I didn't understand how it anesthetizes a person against their pain for a time or how that pain comes crashing in more intense than before when the effects wear off. I didn't understand what it was like for him to get married young to a high school girl he got pregnant. He worked from the time he was old enough to work. He helped his mother, who was morbidly obese. He helped his sister through college, but never got to go himself. He drove truck for a living and drank most of his take-home pay. He and my mother divorced when I was three years old. My older brother was 7 and my younger brother was a baby. I don't know what happened to tip the balance and cause my mother to leave.
All I know is that we lived with my uncle for a time. We lived in Sioux City when I was very young. First, in an upstairs apartment next to the bar where she worked nights. She left the three of us alone while she was at work. My older brother used to light matches in the closet. I've been afraid of being trapped in a burning building since I was little. I walked to kindergarten alone, which was located almost a mile from home. We didn't usually have food to eat for breakfast, so my biggest meal each day was the free lunch we got at school. We used to stop in the 7-11 on the corner and steal cinnamon flavored toothpicks. I got one birthday present when I turned 6 years old. It was a pink terry cloth dress which I was told was from my father. My mother later told me she bought it and put his name on it. I used to dress my younger brother in that dress.
Eventually we moved into a house with a shelf basement when my mom got involved with a guy named Bill. I got a toy sewing machine for Christmas that really worked. I remember living on a steep hill and sledding on the street when it snowed. The basement flooded while we lived there. Things must've gone sour between my mom and that guy, so we moved to Lincoln and lived with my aunt and her three kids. We lived in a three bedroom house. I hated that house. I loved my school, though. I went to Calvert Elementary in Lincoln for 2 years. I skipped 1st grade in that school. I went to summer school between 2nd and 3rd grade just because I had nothing better to do and going to school was preferable to staying home. We moved into a house located right next to the school and my aunt moved to an apartment down the street from us on Stockwell Street. The house we lived in was later condemned and we had to move. Around that time, my mother met her second husband.
He was a garbage collector and an all around bastard. He swept her off her feet by sending her roses. I can't blame my mom. It was the first time anyone ever sent her flowers. He was her second husband and she was his third wife. His first one left him with two sons. After getting to know him, I can't blame her. His second wife left him with an accusation of abuse. After living with him for 6 years, I believe it. My mom left him just before I turned 13. I don't know if she knew, but she left just in the nick of time for me because he was on the verge of sexually abusing me. He'd done it verbally for awhile and had touched me inappropriately a couple of times. If he'd worked up a little more courage or had any more time alone with me, he would've followed through. He got our unlisted number after she left him and called me to proposition me. He offered me $100 and concert tickets to any concert I wanted to attend if I'd allow him to take my virginity.
We moved into Lincoln and lived with my mom's new boyfriend, who had a son my age. I liked the boyfriend, but couldn't ever get close to him because of my previous experiences. His son was a total stoner. We went to school together and he once handed off a bag of pot to me to keep for him until the end of the day because they were doing random locker searches and they'd never suspect me. Things didn't work out in that relationship either, so the boyfriend moved out. It was just my mom and two brothers for a little while, but then my mom met her third husband.
He was a recovering alcoholic and seemed like a really nice guy. He had two kids who were just 4 and 6 years old at the time. I was in high school by then and kept pretty busy with music and working, so I spent as little time at home as possible. My new step-dad was 10 years younger than my mom and 10 years older than me. It was awkward, at best. I liked him, but there was always tension for me. I had no idea how to form a father/daughter relationship and it seemed ridiculous to think I could with someone so close to my age. Their marriage lasted only 3 years. They got divorced just before I graduated high school. My mom, younger brother and I moved into a 2 bedroom apartment after that because it was all she could afford. I paid my own car insurance, bought my own gas & groceries, my clothes, and paid my college tuition the first year. I shared a room with my mother until I moved out. It wasn't too much later that I got pregnant, quit college, had a baby, and got married.
In all that time, my dad paid very little child support. My mom spent as little time as possible on welfare. She worked and was gone a lot. I grew up way too soon in some ways, and took a lot longer to go through some of the "normal" emotional developmental milestones. I don't hate my father. No matter how many bad things I heard about him, I still loved him. He contributed half of the genetic material that makes up who I am. He taught me a lot about how the choices parents make effect their children. I learned a tremendous amount about what I wanted my children's lives to be like by realizing what my own experiences did to me. I'm not bitter anymore. I had a lot of forgiving to do and I believe I've done it. I just can't forget. I shouldn't forget. I am who I am at least in part because of what I've been through. My children have had a vastly different life and I'm grateful.
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Back To The Wierd Dreams
2007-06-15
OK, so I've stopped taking various prescription medications to help me sleep. It's not that I'm having so much difficulty sleeping - I just want to sleep without dreaming because the dreams were causing me so much anguish. I decided I was having adverse side effects, so I quit taking anything except ibuprofen. Last night, I had the strangest one yet. I dreamt that the Bishop was Cary Grant. He looked like the Bishop, but had the same jaunty irresistable cadence to his speech that Cary Grant had (whom I'm desperately in love with). I swear I was born in the wrong era!! Anyway, in my dream, there was the single most torrid, steamy love-making "scene" between the two of us- something you'd never actually see in a Cary Grant movie, but the implication was often there. I've had experiences like that with the Bishop, so it wasn't exactly a stretch of the imagination. After that "scene", he was leaving to go pick up breakfast for us. We were in some sort of two-story apartment building, but the street looked the same as the one I lived on in South Sioux. He went to get in my car, but the car exploded just before he got to it. Fortunately, he wasn't hurt and had the sense to avoid his own car. He got into a cab and that's where the dream ended.
I'm not sure there's really anything to read into the dream except that I miss him and the way he touched me. I remember it vividly still. I can't decide if that's a curse or a blessing. The memories haven't been embelished because they never needed to be. It actually was that good with him. My thoughts have been pretty well under control during the day, but without medication, they still come back big as life in my dreams. What to do?
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Yawn
2007-06-15
I was born in a lighthouse, my mother was the sea
I crawled to school each morning, when it occured to me
That life's just a mood ring we're not allowed to see
And this is what it said to me
My room is comfortably small
With rubber lining the walls
And there's someone always calling my name
He calls when I'm alone
And he calls when I'm not home
And he calls when I'm stuck out in the rain
I'm insane
I'm insane
I'm insane
I'm insane
Now listen all you swingers, don't you try to tag along
I know monkey see, but monkey's dead, for you it would be wrong
Put a dime in my jukebox, you'll only hear this song
And it won't be fun for long
Because my room is comfortably small
With rubber lining the walls
And there's someone always calling my name
He calls when I'm alone
And he calls when I'm not home
And he calls when I'm stuck out in the rain
I'm insane
I'm insane
I'm insane
I'm insane
Thank you
Thank you
My room is comfortably small
With rubber lining the walls
And there's someone always calling my name
He calls when I'm alone
And he calls when I'm not home
And he calls when I'm stuck out in the rain
I'm insane
I'm insane
I'm insane
I'm insane
One of these days I'm going to actually write something as inspired as this. One of these days coming up when my children are in school and I'm out taking a dip in the nearest fountain - with or without clothes, I haven't yet decided. I'm having a wonderful time but I'd rather be whistling in the dark......
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What Makes Today Different?
2007-06-14
I would like to know what makes today different from any other day - why the thoughts of the Bishop keep coming in waves, each one stronger than the previous. I've been battling with those thoughts all morning. I have such a longing to hear his voice and see his face today. As far as I can tell, there's really no reason, except that I do. I want some reassurance that it wasn't all a dream and that he loved me the way he said he did. My brain still knows that it makes precious little difference, but my heart is aching again. I've been close to tears so much that I'm just going to let them fall right now.
I went to church last night. I was scraping walls and feeling pretty down when the pastor from a church we visited a couple of weeks ago called. He asked if we'd like a home visit. I had to tell him I really didn't know because my husband and I hadn't talked about it yet. After almost two weeks, we haven't discussed what we thought of the church. Sad. I was near tears when I hung up the phone and thought about it for a few minutes before I called back and asked what they had available for Wednesday night activities. My husband was going to take my son bowling anyway, so I figured I may as well get out of the house, so my daughter and I went to church.
It was a little strange to walk into a place without knowing anyone and sit down as though I were at home there. Truthfully, church always feels like home to me. One of the ladies sat down and talked to me before dinner and another came and joined us a little while later. It was nice to just make small talk and not worry so much about what's going on. My daughter went with the kids group and I stayed for Bible study. They're in between topics right now, so the pastor was talking about meditating on the Word and finding Biblical answers for life's questions instead of relying on intellect, emotion, or tradition. He opened it up to questions and the first one was about witnessing in the workplace. I listened and several points came up - on that spoke to me was how the Enemy seeks to isolate Christians and make them feel hopelessly alone. That's exactly how I was feeling yesterday. I don't even have my husband to turn to when I'm feeling discouraged because he somehow seems to only reinforce those feelings in me. When the topic had been exhausted, I was able to ask a question that's been gnawing at me for awhile.
My question was in reference to emotions. We're supposed to make decisions based on Biblical truth, regardless how we feel or what we think or what tradition tells us. We hope that the emotions will fall in line, but what happens when they don't? I know God gave us emotions, but what are they really for? I can't say my question was really answered. The people there focused more on the obedience aspect and doing what's right. Based on what I understand of Biblical truth, I believe I'm doing what's right. Not perfectly, but diligently trying. My emotions haven't caught up with the decisions. I feel worse now than I ever have throughout the course of this whole situation. I'm still doing what's right, but it hurts more than ever.
Maybe it's because I feel so alone here. Maybe it's because there hasn't been an acceptable resolution in my marriage. Maybe it's because everything seems to have reverted to where it was before I became involved with the Bishop. Not everything. I'm different now. I can see things for what they are and I can't accept them anymore. I can't accept that I'm the root of everything that's wrong in my husband's life. I'm not perfect and I know I make a great scapegoat, but that's just not OK anymore. What do I do with those thoughts and feelings? Do I just stuff them and wait it out? I pray to surrender, but maybe I'm not doing it right. Maybe I'm not doing it for the right reasons. The pastor last night did say that the church has a tendency to let people down when they need each other to bear one another's burdens. That the function of the church is supposed to be support in troubled times. That's what I need right now. People to believe for me when my faith is so weak. When my heart is telling me to bail because nothing is ever going to change.
I had a long talk with the pastor's wife from my church - the one I still consider to be my home church in Sioux City. She called to say that she'd put up the VBS decorations we'd finished on Monday. I was in town Monday for a dr. appt and to have lunch with my swim group. She called and asked if I had time to help her paint for awhile, so I did. It was a really great way to finish out the day before I drove home. We accomplished a lot and were able to talk about trivial things and important ones. She's going through something she's not willing to share details about, but I've heard enough to have a suspicion. I wasn't sure what to think of her at first, but I've realized I don't have to think anything - just to love her and pray for her the way she has me. We're different people, but there's something that binds us together anyway. She intended our conversation to be brief last night, but we talked for almost an hour. I could hear the pain in her voice even as she was trying to comfort and encourage me. She has the same questions, insecurities, and frustrations that I do. They manifest differently, but we're both human and it's nice to feel that comraderie.
I can see where God is sending me what I need when I need it most. I'm still hurting, but it helps to know He cares enough to offer me the escape route when my thoughts take a turn for the worst. I can choose to take what He offers or wallow in my own misery. I don't always make the right decision, but today I'm going to finish this post, read some out of "My Utmost For His Highest", look up some of the verses a couple of people shared with me last night, and finish scraping walls so I can prepare to paint the rest of my living room. I still don't feel like this place is home, but at least I can put it in some kind of order.
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Response To Stargazer
2007-06-13
The depth of your dreams, the height of your wishes
The length of your vision to see, the hope of your heart
Is much bigger than this
For it's made out of what might be
Now picture your hope, your heart's desire -
As a castle that you must keep
In all of its splendor, it's drafty and lonely
This heart is too hard to heat
Chorus:
When I get lonely ah, that's only a sign
Some room is empty, and that room is there by design
If I feel hollow - that's just my proof that there's more
For me to follow - that's what the lonely is for
Is it a blessing or a curse this palace of promise
When the empty chill makes you weep
With only the thin fire of romance to warm you
These halls are too tall and deep
Chorus
But, you can seal up the pain, build walls in the hallways
Close off a small room to live in
But those walls will remain, and keep you there always
And you'll never know why you were given... why you were given the lonely
Ah, it's only a sign
Some room is empty
That room is there by design
If I feel hollow that's just my proof that there's more
For me to follow - that's what the lonely is for
These are also not my words, but sung a capella by a group called Glad, they're beautiful. I could use some beauty in my life. I woke up just now from a dream about the Bishop. I haven't seen him in almost 3 months and I can still dream up a crystal clear image of him, complete with his voice, which I still miss so much. I haven't been dwelling on that too much lately - just when I'm driving back from Sioux City and I pray again and again to surrender him and all he means to God.
Instead, what I've been spending my time doing is developing an ulcer. I'm so tired of fighting with my husband. I'm just tired in general. I've been working like a dog trying to get this place even moderately presentable. Whoever painted it before did so on bare sheetrock instead of sealing it and the paint is coming off in sheets. That means I have to scrape it all off first and seal it before I can get rid of the nasty colors. It seems like a lot of work for a rental - for a place I'll probably never call home, but I don't care. I need to have something physical to do that produces tangible results so I don't feel as worthless as it's been implied I am.
I hate my life right now. My husband is basically the only one here that I know, so he's the only one giving me regular feedback. What he tells me about myself makes me think I'm only good for one thing. He told me my tattoos are abhorrent and disfiguring. That he has to look past them in order to love me. I think they're beautiful and symbolic of the unique person I am. They're outward expressions of what's inside me. If he has to look past them to love me, then he must be overlooking an awful lot of the core of my personality in order to find anything to love. That doesn't leave much. His words lead me to believe he does want someone shallow who will listen to him unquestioningly and look on him in adoration. I don't do that, so I'm a failure and a defect.
I don't think that's really true, but he's taking me right back to the place I was before - planting those seeds of doubt within me to the point where I question my worth. I felt it happening last night. I showered, put on something nice, and took the kids out to the mall. That doesn't sound extravagant, but I've been getting up in the morning and throwing on the nearest thing in order to get started unpacking and working on the walls. I've been completely disinterested in my appearance and pretty quiet for the most part. So, we ate dinner, walked around a little, tried to find a car charger for my son's phone, then he went to Game Stop while my daughter and I wandered for awhile. We ended up in a toy/game store, so we went and retrieved my son because I thought he'd really like the place. He did and we had a great time talking to the guys working there. They were definitely in their element, demonstrating the game and acting like goofs. We had such a good time that they printed me off a job application and wrote a recommendation on the top for me. After I left, I felt pretty good, but then that doubt creeped in again. They thought I was cool, but they only spent a short time with me. What if they spend more time with me and realize their mistake?
Those thoughts are stupid. I was able to be myself for a little while and someone else enjoyed my company. The doubts come from my husband and all of the terrible things he says to me, all the while trying to convince me he loves me. Is that really love? Tearing a person down and making them feel like crap? I like who I am - not because I'm perfect. I know I'm a work in progress, but I think I have a pretty good sense of humor, I'm compassionate, usually considerate, and I have a lot of fun. When I think about the image I see reflected in my husband's eyes, I see failure. Failure to conform to whatever it is he wants. I see the embarassment when I say something off-color, when I wear something he thinks is too outrageous, when I show who I am. I do love God and I want to be a person who glorifies Him, but I don't think that requires me to change into some cookie-cutter person, stamped out to look/behave/speak exactly like every other Christian. There are guidelines, but there's room for me to be myself, too. Why else would God have made us all so different?
The past couple of days, I've been right back in that place I was when I started seeing the Bishop in a professional capacity. I'm remembering what attracted me to him in the first place, besides the way he looks and who he is. It was the way he made me feel worthwhile and the way I could be myself with him and not feel like a source of shame. His eyes shone when he looked at me and I was better for it because I wanted to be pleasing to him. Being pleasing to him also meant being pleasing to God, which was also what I wanted to be. I got side-tracked when I took my eyes off God and started looking only at the Bishop.
I don't want to relive the past. I don't want to feel the way I do now about my husband or myself. He doesn't understand that I can't possibly be attracted to him and it's a direct result of the way he speaks to me and the things he says. His compliments about what I do and how I look are meaningless because they say nothing about who I am. I don't think he could compliment me on who I am because I don't think he really likes me. Instead of admitting that and hoping and praying his heart will change (like I'm doing), he denies his thoughts and feelings, but they come out in his words and expressions.
For my part, I'm trying to find good things in him. I'll admit it's been difficult to let go of those words. To try to chalk them up to frustration and anger over all I've done, but I don't think that's ultimately the source. I think he's most passionate when he's tearing me down and, to me, that says those are more truthful than anything else. I don't know if this situation can change. I don't know if we can do much more than coexist at this point, and even that's a strain. The dream I just had tells me my heart is still with the Bishop, but that's not what's hindering me from making progress with my husband. I'm reminded by current circumstances that my interactions with my husband were what sucked the life and love out of me before I became involved with the Bishop. The time I was with him made life with my husband bearable. Now, I have a giant void in my life and it hurts worse because I know how good it can be between two people and I know for sure how far away I am from that.
I have an emptiness in me so vast and I want to believe God can fill it. I'm asking God to fill it. I'm just not doing so with confidence because part of that emptiness is shaped like a man I can never have. I miss him this morning just like I did when we were first found out. Maybe today in my wordless time scraping walls I can find my equilibrium again.
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"To Do" List
2007-06-04
I have a bunch of things to do tomorrow in order to "earn" my trip to Sioux City. What a sucky thing to have to justify every little thing by showing how productive and what a good little girl I've been. I had a friend tell me shortly after her divorce that she'd been shopping at Victoria's Secret and was so glad she didn't have to go have sex with her husband in order to justify the money she'd spent, nevermind the fact that they could well afford it. That's about how I'm feeling right now. Resentment is an ugly thing and I hope I don't get bogged down by it.
I've been very productive today. Started the paperwork for the kids to get them registered for school, toured the elementary school, went to Kmart for bathroom storage cabinets (I know, Kmart sucks), assembled the cabinets, got my laundry room and the cats' bathroom just the way I want them, did 3 loads of laundry, unpacked half of my son's room, got my dining room cleared out enough to set up the table, and still managed a trip to Starbuck's and some much needed phone time with friends.
On the list for tomorrow - plant the tomatoes & herbs I bought at Home Depot, finish unpacking my son's room in preparation to have his bed delivered, stop by Lowe's to return some bathroom fixtures, pick up wheels for the bed frame & less expensive bath fixtures, pack for my Sioux City trip, finish laundry, finish unpacking the bathroom stuff, drop paperwork off at the two different schools, and of course, stop for coffee. That should be a pretty full day! I'm tired just thinking about it.
For tonight, I just want to go to sleep without fighting (or really talking to) my husband. Having him around all of the time is going to be extremely stressful if we keep having the kinds of interactions we've been having. He helped me by putting up a shelf in the cats' bathroom, which I greatly appreciated. Hopefully we can just leave it at that. Thanks everyone for your comments and messages! It helps to know someone cares, especially when I'm reminded how lonely I am because I don't have anyone to put down for the emergency contacts at school :( It gets better, right?
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Faults
2007-06-03
If I made a list of everything I thought was wrong with me, I'd have a pretty long list. I'm OK with that - I still see myself as a work in progress. If I made a list of everything I think is right with myself, I'd have listed all the things my husband thinks are wrong with me. I know this because he spent a considerable amount of time picking me apart layer by layer. All this because I asked that, if I get a whole bunch of unpacking done in the next couple of days, could I possibly go back to Sioux City for a couple of days with the kids and help get things ready for Vacation Bible School (which I will be returning to teach in July)? The answer, "I don't want you to go, but if you want to go, then you'll go." The conversation deteriorated from there as he proceeded to share with me all of the ways I'm selfish and hurtful. If I relied on my self esteem to get me through the tough spots, I would've slit my wrists tonight.
How much of this does a person have to take before it's OK to call it quits? All of it, I guess. All through the conversation, I was wondering how he can claim to love me when he has to overlook all of the things I think are best about me in order to find something to love. For my part, I'm admittedly having a hard time with the love aspect of our relationship. If we could have a few days of adult conversations that don't involve tearing me down, I might be able to muster up a positive emotion/thought. I read the Bible and feel convicted about the sin in my life. When I start to think about how other people should be reading the stuff and feeling convicted, I realize I'm comparing myself to others instead of to God's standard, so I pray for forgiveness and re-focus. When my husband reads the Bible, he reads about what he should be experiencing in his life, realizes that he's missing out, and naturally shifts the blame to me. This is something he's told me. He can quote chapter and verse in reference to every area I've failed him and I'm helpless to offer any defense. All I can say is that I'm reading too, feeling convicted, and trying to allow God to take control and make changes for the better.
I feel like I'm trapped in some twisted version of the movie "Groundhog Day". The same conversation keeps playing over and over about how I'm so awful, yet he loves me and wants to be married to me. He prays every night for my heart and mind to be healed - for me to turn back to God and be obedient. I've written about my darkest thoughts and how much of a struggle it's been for me to stay on the right path and keep my eyes on the prize instead of looking back at what was. I'm trying to find my place in this world, trying to remember that I'm doing the right thing, trying to hold on to the will to do the right thing. I'm not mentally ill. A little depressed perhaps, but still of relatively sound mind. My heart is broken both by the Bishop and by my husband, but I'm hanging on to God's love. I still believe in love, despite everything that's happened. Why isn't any of that good enough? I'm tired of not measuring up. I'm just tired of playing out the same conversation. It doesn't matter how it starts, it always ends up in the same place. I think I'm going to be sick.
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No Place Like Home
2007-06-02
I feel like I'm living someone else's life right now. I've spent the entire day unpacking - mostly the rest of the stuff in the kitchen. I've never been terribly attached to a dwelling before, so unpacking is merely a matter of figuring out the most efficient use of space. I don't care if things are grouped the same as they were. It's almost as though I can't remember where things were before. Even still, I feel like I'm in some kind of trance - that any minute things will be back to what they should be.
What should they be? I know there was life before the Bishop came into mine, but I can't remember what it was like. Everything is so strange that all I can do is keep pushing myself to stay busy. One box after the other. If I don't like what's in it, I just set it aside and start on a new one. I'm a little worried that there's an impending meltdown when I run out of boxes. I have enough sewing, scrapbooking, knitting, painting, and God knows what else to keep me busy for the rest of my life, but what kind of life is that going to be? I used to live like that. Moving from one project to the next, focusing on kids, forgetting about everything that impacted my emotions. I was a non-person for a long time. Am I going to go back to that? What if I meet someone new?
I have met people, even in the short time I've been here. I met a guy named "Kato" - I'm not kidding, that was actually his name. He educated me on the "swinger" lifestyle in Des Moines, and encouraged me to look him up if I wanted to scope things out. He'd be more than happy to show me the ropes. I'm sure <rolling eyes>. I'm not interested. I'm not over the Bishop. I'm not sure if I ever will be. My whole outlook has changed and I don't know how to be or what to do right now. I suppose the first step is to find a new church. I'm not ready for that either. Tomorrow is the first Sunday in a long time that I won't be at my home church. That started the tears up again. Guess I'm not as dazed as I thought. I miss my church! I miss my pastor, my friends, even the people I dislike - even that wretched woman on the flower committee who got me kicked off. She thought I was being mean to her - little did she know what I happened to be preoccupied with at the time. As if I'd waste my time thinking up ways to torture some woman I barely know! OK, that was quite the outburst.
Speaking of outbursts, I've been pretty calm around my husband through this whole moving expedition. He's been dreadful to me. Snapping and harsh and altogether unpleasant. He's apologized for everthing, but the words have left their mark yet again. His comment earlier really took the cake. I'm on antibiotics for a sinus infection and, as a side effect, I usually end up with a yeast infection. Not pleasant, but that's just the way it works. My doctor normally calls in a prescription for Diflucan along with the antibiotics, but he didn't think to do that and so, here I am suffering all the horrid symptoms. I had to ask directions to Walmart earlier and my husband wanted to know why, so I reluctantly told him. I don't care to talk about bodily functions most of the time. It's bad enough to have to experience them! So, his comment to me was, "Oh yeah, my day just keeps getting better and better." Sarcastic and downright rude. I'm the one being made EXTREMELY uncomfortable by the infection and having to go buy medication for it, which even as an adult woman, I find embarassing. At least they have self-checkout lanes now! What a f%$#ing jerk! His main concern is that he definitely won't be getting laid tonight. We've only been together a couple of times since January anyway, so what's the big deal? He tells me I disgust him because of what I've done and I don't tell him that he's nowhere near the lover that the Bishop was.
What a fun life I live. I need to go out and have some fun! It's just a matter of finding someone safe to do that with. I wonder where the gay guys hang out in Des Moines. I met someone this morning at Starbuck's (yep, I found one close to home already) who was driving a yellow SAAB convertible. I love those cars and a convertible is even better. I don't think he was gay, though. We had a nice conversation about the car and how he was going to sell it until he got it out and drove it in the spring. He realized he couldn't part with it, despite the fact that it's getting older and little things are starting to go wrong with it. I said, "Just think of them as idiosyncracies". He laughed as he was driving away. That had nothing to do with anything, but it popped in my head, so I decided to write about it.
OK, so Glenda the good witch isn't going to drop by, I don't have ruby slippers, and I can't even say, "There's no place like home" and click my heels together because I don't really feel like anyplace is home right now. If it's where the heart is, I'd either be in heaven or in the Bishop's arms. I guess I'm still having days where it's a toss-up between spirituality and carnality.
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"New" Place
2007-06-01
Well, it's the first night in a "new" place. It's a disaster. I'm very tired. I don't want to be here. So much for an exciting new beginning. At least I managed to find the sheets for my bed - after unpacking nearly everything in the bedroom. Got the kids' rooms set up enough for sleeping, too, and half of the kitchen unpacked. Not bad, considering the movers left around 5pm. Time to call it a night. Somebody send me a message - I'm lonely! OK, enough whining.3 Comments | Link to This | Back to top
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