Wednesday, July 10, 2019
I am learning that what I have labeled as 'needy' and 'desperate' is really just my longing. What am I longing for?
I long to have him show up and be willing to hear my hurt, see my tears, hold me while I beat his chest and cry until I have no more tears. I long to have him hold my head in his hands close to his chest and tell me he's sorry...so, so sorry.
I long to see compassion in his eyes instead of contempt.
I long to believe that I mattered to him enough to fight for me...for our marriage and family.
I long to hear him say I love you. Not just write it in a card but say the words.
I long to know he thinks I'm beautiful.
I long to have him know my past and love the broken parts of me.
I long to hear him tell me he wont give up and leave no matter how hard it gets.
I long to be free of shame and guilt and the haunting feeling that I'm not lovable or am incapable of love.
I long to know what it's like to have a man be stronger than me...to stand up to me when I've gone too far.
I long to hear the people closest to me be able to say 'I'm sorry' if they have hurt me.
I long to be known...to have someone curious me...ask me questions...want to know about all of the scars and want to hear how they changed me.
I long to have someone to love..to lavish my love on and have it appreciated and acknowledged.
I long for someone who is not afraid of intimacy...not just physical...but emotional as well.
I long to hear words of affirmation. I have given up the career of mind reading.
I long to feel desired.
"At the end of the day, I find most people end up doing what they want." Those were the counselor's words to me at the end of one of our sessions. It was our first time to go to counseling as a couple after D-day and I went looking for answers to how to get through this hellish reality. I wanted him to tell me what to do, tell me if there was hope, give me something to fix. But instead, all I got was, "at then end of the day, you will do what you want to do." I was frustrated, a bit angry and confused. After all, that's what I was paying him the big bucks for! As I drove home, I asked myself "What DO you want?" and that was when the blinders came off. I had no idea what I wanted other than for the pain to stop.
I came home and sat...alone...for a long time. I started making a list of what I wanted and realized that nothing in my life looked like what I had written down. How had I gotten to this place in my life where being with a man who did not desire to know me physically, spiritually or emotionally, was ok? Why did I feel that I somehow deserved to be looked at with contempt - not only from him, but from my children as well. Why was it okay that I felt more lonely laying next to him in bed than I did at any other place in my life. How long had I been denying my feelings of pain and hopelessness and believing that being with him was better than being alone?
That question will haunt me for a long time...
What do I want???
I came home and sat...alone...for a long time. I started making a list of what I wanted and realized that nothing in my life looked like what I had written down. How had I gotten to this place in my life where being with a man who did not desire to know me physically, spiritually or emotionally, was ok? Why did I feel that I somehow deserved to be looked at with contempt - not only from him, but from my children as well. Why was it okay that I felt more lonely laying next to him in bed than I did at any other place in my life. How long had I been denying my feelings of pain and hopelessness and believing that being with him was better than being alone?
That question will haunt me for a long time...
What do I want???
Survivor's Guilt
It's been a while since I've written a new post. Lots of processing...lots of realizations...lots of discovery.
I've come to grips with the fact that he is not well...in many ways. I have learned to let go...to walk away...leave the wreckage behind and begin a new life. My very wise counselor said that he would show up...and he has. In ways that I never would have dreamed or expected. He is a stranger to me...I have no idea who he is anymore.
I've defined it as survivors guilt...this feeling that comes from time to time.
Imagine you are the passenger in an airplane where your husband is the pilot
whom you trust implicitly.
You have been in the air for what seems like a lifetime,
experiencing minor turbulence, but overall enjoying the view and the ride.
You expect that you are close to your destination
when suddenly,
you realize he has taken his hands off the controls...
and has had them off for a very long time.
You discover that you are far off course and are headed straight into the side of a mountain that you never saw until the moment before terrain meets metal. Your worst nightmare comes true and before you know it, you are lying on the ground with wreckage all around and everywhere you look little fires are burning. One of the fires is dangerously close to exploding what's left of the jet fuel and you know there are only seconds before you are caught in the ball of fire. You look for him and find him trapped under the wreckage and in a split second, you have a choice...to try to free him from the wreckage that binds him...knowing you are not capable of doing it...and you will die in the fire with him, OR walk away and save yourself.
I made the choice.
I walked away.
Partly, because I knew I would make a horrible messiah,
and partly because he didn't want me to save him...
or us.
And, once in a while I feel guilty
that I am a survivor...
not a victim
and he will be trapped in the wreckage
for a very, very long time.
As each month gives way to another month,
I have the stark reminder that not once...
Not once has he checked on me,
asked how I'm doing
am I healing?
am I settled in my new home?
will I be okay?
do I need anything?
Not once...
has he said I'm sorry
I love you
I hate what I've done to our family
I want to make this up to you.
Not once has he shown any sign of compassion toward me.
Not once.
And I realize...
It didn't just start on January 21.
My good friend reminded me of the last two holiday seasons
when I gave voice to
the loneliness,
and lack
and longing.
I didn't understand where the feelings originated...
but the Spirit in me did.
He was grieving it too.
My heart was so heavy and burdened.
The darkness threatened to undo me
made me want to run...
flee the feelings of abandonment and find
somewhere
someone
who could touch the pain.
Yet, I stayed.
Till death (death...death...death)
as I heard it echo that day I said "I do".
And I did...
till the death...of me.
'Till all that I knew was uniquely me,
had seemingly shriveled up and died.
But God...
"unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it will not bear fruit."
"They tried to bury us but they didn't know we were seeds". (JH Fearless)
Resurrected
brought forth
from the dry and hard soil
a tiny blade of green.
He has caused His face to shine on it.
He has watered it with words from
very wise counselors
friends
sometimes, strangers.
He has caused it to grow
and slowly I remember
who I was
who I am
who I was created to be.
He has breathed new life
into old dreams.
He is making streams in the desert.
He is showing me love
in antique fabric swatches in frames
on Florentine terraces
in the faces and hugs of children
who call me 'auntie'.
I am finding my voice
to sing again
a new song...much fuller and richer.
I embrace the silence
and lonliness
because, he is healing the broken places
that were too afraid of
abandonment.
I've come to grips with the fact that he is not well...in many ways. I have learned to let go...to walk away...leave the wreckage behind and begin a new life. My very wise counselor said that he would show up...and he has. In ways that I never would have dreamed or expected. He is a stranger to me...I have no idea who he is anymore.
I've defined it as survivors guilt...this feeling that comes from time to time.
Imagine you are the passenger in an airplane where your husband is the pilot
whom you trust implicitly.
You have been in the air for what seems like a lifetime,
experiencing minor turbulence, but overall enjoying the view and the ride.
You expect that you are close to your destination
when suddenly,
you realize he has taken his hands off the controls...
and has had them off for a very long time.
You discover that you are far off course and are headed straight into the side of a mountain that you never saw until the moment before terrain meets metal. Your worst nightmare comes true and before you know it, you are lying on the ground with wreckage all around and everywhere you look little fires are burning. One of the fires is dangerously close to exploding what's left of the jet fuel and you know there are only seconds before you are caught in the ball of fire. You look for him and find him trapped under the wreckage and in a split second, you have a choice...to try to free him from the wreckage that binds him...knowing you are not capable of doing it...and you will die in the fire with him, OR walk away and save yourself.
I made the choice.
I walked away.
Partly, because I knew I would make a horrible messiah,
and partly because he didn't want me to save him...
or us.
And, once in a while I feel guilty
that I am a survivor...
not a victim
and he will be trapped in the wreckage
for a very, very long time.
As each month gives way to another month,
I have the stark reminder that not once...
Not once has he checked on me,
asked how I'm doing
am I healing?
am I settled in my new home?
will I be okay?
do I need anything?
Not once...
has he said I'm sorry
I love you
I hate what I've done to our family
I want to make this up to you.
Not once has he shown any sign of compassion toward me.
Not once.
And I realize...
It didn't just start on January 21.
My good friend reminded me of the last two holiday seasons
when I gave voice to
the loneliness,
and lack
and longing.
I didn't understand where the feelings originated...
but the Spirit in me did.
He was grieving it too.
My heart was so heavy and burdened.
The darkness threatened to undo me
made me want to run...
flee the feelings of abandonment and find
somewhere
someone
who could touch the pain.
Yet, I stayed.
Till death (death...death...death)
as I heard it echo that day I said "I do".
And I did...
till the death...of me.
'Till all that I knew was uniquely me,
had seemingly shriveled up and died.
But God...
"unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it will not bear fruit."
"They tried to bury us but they didn't know we were seeds". (JH Fearless)
Resurrected
brought forth
from the dry and hard soil
a tiny blade of green.
He has caused His face to shine on it.
He has watered it with words from
very wise counselors
friends
sometimes, strangers.
He has caused it to grow
and slowly I remember
who I was
who I am
who I was created to be.
He has breathed new life
into old dreams.
He is making streams in the desert.
He is showing me love
in antique fabric swatches in frames
on Florentine terraces
in the faces and hugs of children
who call me 'auntie'.
I am finding my voice
to sing again
a new song...much fuller and richer.
I embrace the silence
and lonliness
because, he is healing the broken places
that were too afraid of
abandonment.
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