“We can define wisdom as the capacity to skillfully select our narratives.” – Mary Pipher
I’ve been reading a reflection on aging and women titled “Women Rowing North: Navigating Life’s Currents and Flourishing as We Age” Some of it has been a tough go as the author retells her and other’s experiences of saying goodbye in so many ways, both to people and life phases. It is something we all face as the years roll by. If we are mindful, we can knit tales of our past that focus on the positive and beneficial.
When we take the time to reexamine our stories and choose to focus on not only clarity, but acceptance and resilience, we make a conscious choice toward joy. The stories we tell ourself, if carefully considered, allow us to heal from the past’s traumas and pain. Choosing to reframe sad or difficult events allows us to live more serenely in the present.
We can choose to glean the meaning out of our pain. We can look back on our past challenges with gratitude for leading us to our present. What were the lessons, the roadblocks overcome, the strength honed?
This is how life and its experiences take on being sacred, through the hallowed stories we recall of it.
Our True Heritage
Thich Nhat Hanh
This cosmos is filled with precious gems
I want to offer a handle of them to you this morning
Each moment you are alive is a gem
Shining through and containing earth and sky
water and clouds.
It needs you to breathe gently
For the miracles to be displayed.
Suddenly you hear the birds singing,
the pines chanting
see the flowers blooming,
the blue sky,
the white clouds,
the smile and the marvelous looks
of a beloved.
You, the richest person un earth,
who have been going around begging for a living, stop being the destitute child.
The process of making something that has never existed in the world before is the surest way I know to plug into the divine.
There is something about becoming lost in the creative process that comes about as close as I’ve ever known to accessing a power greater than myself. When I was writing novels, I would be swept up in a scene, ‘hearing’ the voices of each character as they emoted. I could ‘see’ the locale right down to the smells, temperature, lighting and sounds. In my mind this place and time were as real as any I’d experienced in the corporeal world. I was, after all, creating a place, time and people who had never existed in the world.
Creativity
the ability to transcend traditional ideas, rules, patterns, relationships, or the like, and to create meaningful new ideas, forms, methods, interpretations, etc.; originality, progressiveness, or imagination.
I love the word ‘transcend’ in the above definition. For it is the only place I know of to gain that experience. The closets thing to mimic it is to take in a new place of extraordinary beauty never experienced before. Even in that experience you know the e wonder before you exists in the three d world and thus can be seen, felt, touched by others. it is a creation of nature or human that already exists.
To be the conduit of such a creation is to touch the face of God.
When I met my future husband, my heart was all in. He was naive, sweet and smitten with me. He said he adored my never ending giving nature. He said I loved others like no one he’d ever known.
And so I believe he ‘got me’ right. He understood my heart, my life.
It has always been in my nature to give my all to those in my life. As a child that was my parents. I worked to please them if that meant only to see the corner of their mouth lift as they watched something I did. Neither of them were demonstrative or appreciative. They asked for much and gave much. Much like their daughter.
I’ve always had difficulty understanding how others can give half heartedly. It still baffles me. In every cell of my being I want to give. I want to please. But more, much more than that, I want to support those I love to reach for their dreams.
And so I unwittingly supported my UH to carry out his years long affair. It simply never occurred to me that a human heart could be so duplicitous. Not one whom I had chosen to love. I gave my everything to him. Everything that I was and am went into each day, each action, each thought and plan. I always considered how what I did would effect the family. How could I make their way smoother? How could I add some sparkle to the everyday? What could I do to make their existence special?
Whether grocery shopping, looking for a job or cleaning the bathroom, my goal was always the same. To love them well. To be their rock in hard times and their reliable life embellisher. Every interesting TV segment or article on how to make life healthier, more pleasant or enjoyable perked my ears, my attention. Every shelf at the store was a potential treasure trove because it might hold something that would please or uphold them– my beloved family.
This nature of mine has never been sacrificial in feeling. It is my very lifeblood. It is what gives me joy and purpose each day. My payment is living in the presence of whatever joy my efforts might bring to the family. If my work was not for present fulfillment of needs it was looking to the future to do things together that would brings us new experiences. I remember thinking and praying that I might have some means of making my kids lives into adulthood somewhat easier than mine had been. I didn’t want them to have to struggle and count pennies the way I did. I wanted them to be able to throw their heart into something they loved without the ever present weight of making ends meet. I prayed for a way to help them keep a roof over their head without the bulk of their time spent doing it.
I also dreamed of taking them to Europe so they might get a feeling for the place and the people from which their ancestor’s had come. I knew how much a year abroad had bolstered my life and opened my eyes. I wanted them to have this backbone experience too. It is why I took on my full time teaching. To afford to take us all and to have the vacation time to do it. I waited until they were in full time school so I wouldn’t miss out on time with them too much. While I found some solace in achieving recognition as a great teacher, it was not my heart. My heart was at home. My heart was in every healthy meal I prepared. Every art project that decorated the kid’s rooms, every suit of clothes for my husband to wear to work found at discount but looking like a million bucks, every swipe of the sponge, scrub of the tile, mow of the lawn, weed of the weed, wash of the car. It was all for them. For the beloved US.
And because it was for them, it fed my heart too. It gave me purpose and life.
To have the husband I’d sworn to die in his arms tear out my heart by betraying me is more than I can convey in words. To give my everything to him and my kids to have him turn his back on what was exclusive and precious between us. To lie to my face day in and out. To bring another woman into our family–her presence there for twenty seven years, she always an option to share intimate knowledge and body with, all while allowing me to believe that I was his one and only, his precious wife. I truly thought I was his special one. That he only had eyes and heart for me. Surely giving my everything to him would be appreciated and used for his good, his achievements and dream weaving.
How could this man who swore he loved me abuse my everything? Abuse my giving, my heart, my time, my gifts? How could he seduce another woman? How could he touch her in loving caresses? How could he pour his body into hers when he told me he loved me? I will never understand it. How could this happen? How could he not only allow it to happen but be the instigator of it happening over and over and over again. How could he blame me? How could this nightmare be my reality?
My lifeblood is to give. My heart is to do for and pave a special pathway for my family. My heart and lifeblood was taken for granted and used to betray me. I acted in love and faith that my presence and my efforts would be used for the good–for the benefit of my husband and my family. To make their lives richer.
And I suppose in a perverted way my UH did enrich his life by experiencing another woman’s praise and body. By revelling in the excitement of forbidden love, he enriched his time–all at my expense. How could he be so selfish? How could he be so cold and uncaring and cavalier with my heart? How could he do the most vile, painful acts against everything we were. How could he turn his back on me, on us? How could he throw it all away for fun and frivolity? I meant no more to him than that? I the means to his ends and no more. I used. My time and love and efforts used to betray me, to make a mockery of our marriage, our life together? How does a person do that? How do they plan and carry out the shattering of the heart and life they swore to protect?
How do you shatter the heart you swore to love and protect–and do it on purpose?
I’ve taken to watching past American Idol and Britain’s Got Talent segments on You Tube because I not only love music, I love success. Tears of joy stream down my cheeks as a successful singer receives ‘yes’ from the judges and ovations from the audience. Most of these folks are regular people with day jobs who have a dream.
Perhaps you remember the audition that went worldwide viral in 2009 of Susan Boyle singing a tune from Les Miserables. She, a rather plain and round woman from a small village in Scotland, blew away the judges and the crowd. Since that time there seems to be less skepticism when an ordinary looking person approaches the mic.
The authenticity of the moment, of the recognition of talent, of appreciation touches the deepest part of my heart. There is no greater balm to my broken heart than to watch another’s swell in authentic humble pride.
I have often remarked that my purpose on this planet is to support others in reaching for their dreams. So I guess I come by my tears honestly. There simply is nothing as touching in my life as watching another gain long fought recognition. Each rags to riches success is wonderful, even if it does not mean these folks will ever gain riches in the financial sense. They have dared greatly and won.
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
Well after the big discussion of his cruelty in leaving me to myself and refusing to talk to me, he has once again failed to approach me. Saturday is supposed to be his check in day where he lets me know how his recovery work is coming along for the week. Although he listened along with me to a few episodes of Vicki Tidwell Palmer’s “Beyond Bitchy” pod cast on boundaries, he neither commented on the content nor checked in about his week, nor approached me to do the repair work he agreed has been sorely missing.
After dinner I turned off the TV and sat on the couch. He picked up a magazine and paged through it. Zero interaction.
SO here I am in my room, alone again, naturally. Here we are, dear betrayed, hanging out in virtual time. My flu is still hanging on with congestion that won’t break and an awful taste in my mouth. My stomach is queasy. That said I’ve walked 13,000 steps today, done my dumbbell free weights, some balance work and managed to appreciate the sunshine streaming in.
A bit of Amazon window shopping and a brief check in on the news. It’s been a quiet day sans relational progress but filled with self care. I’ll continue asking God to direct me, my thinking and my steps. Surely there is more for me to do going into retirement. What is in store, I pray to be led, doors and windows opened.
I’ve been practicing meditation for a few months now. Beginning with one minute after opening ‘set aside prayer’, I’ve worked up to between five and twelve minutes an evening. I open my mind and ask for guidance. SO far God still seems mostly silent. I did have the definite message/feeling yesterday that it would be best to drop sharing quotes, articles etc with UH. He says he hates them anyways and it sure doesn’t seem to have any positive effect on his thinking.
I did tell him last week that if he doesn’t follow his agreement to approach me daily with conversation I will be attending church alone. I hate having my spiritual time interrupted by his presence next to me and me feeling ignored. Much like my time alone in my room, church time is precious too. It is another boundary that occurred to me during meditation. I deserve peace and serenity which is hard to achieve when I am feeling resentful that he has continued to break his agreement to talk.
My UH is finally beginning to consider the probability he’d have set up his affair regardless of what I was or was not doing. The perfect storm could not be bypassed. My brother’s ex was freshly broken up with, my UH had foolproof escape for recruiting trips–all hotels and meals paid for and he had me at home watching the kids. Perfect set up for his selfish desires and screw the consequences to anyone.
You see I have known him since he was 18. He loves free anything, even if he already has plenty–he’ll take what’s free. Free no strings sex? Better than free food. Free nice hotel, free meals, freedom from family responsibilities?? Grab that brass ring. Can still take advantage of wife and home. Sweet. FREE!
It wouldn’t have mattered who he married. He felt entitled to have what he wanted when he wanted it. And he wanted sex with someone new and exciting/illicit.
It was not about me. It was about him and his entitlement.
I told him how profoundly cruel he has been over the last four years in refusing to make repairs and for continuing to blame me for not appreciating him enough and for telling me I am vengeful. Sooo far from true. I am mortally wounded, yes, but vengeance has NEVER been in my character. But it gives him a reason to blame me for his avoidance of tending to me. Makes me the bad guy.
He is now actually considering the validity of these behavioral trends over the four years since d-day. He says he is seeing it.
It’s gonna take a whole lot of me feeling authenticity from him. I just don’t yet. That said, his willingness to consider the truth of his cruelty and self protection at my expense is a huge step forward.
Why am I not thrilled. Too little too late or is my heart so deeply buried in self protective boundaries it’s gonna take a miracle to thaw?
Seems my UH has decided I am not too scry to approach and talk to. At least this morning that was the case. He told me about his OA meeting the night before. The group walk the guys took around the park after the meeting and the welcoming nature of one guy in particular.
My son goes to the meeting as well. He is morbidly obese. He’s had a rough road through childhood with numerous learning disabilities, ADD and been the target of bullies. He has debilitating social anxiety on top of it all. The meds he takes for his Epilepsy add to the difficulty of controlling his appetite, but that is not the crux of it. Like many overweight people, he uses his body as a means of remaining isolated. His therapist is someone he seems to like and respect. I pray often he has a breakthrough. He’s so smart and kind. Heartbreaking for a mom, but more so for him.
I still dream for him.
Anyways, after marriage counseling yesterday and my UH’s first admittance that he was wrong to blame me for his infidelity, it seems he is taking more risks. I also decided to focus more on emailing my UH with my thoughts and feelings as they occur–lessen the quotes and links to other’s blog or articles. He says he’s tired of hearing the same thing over and over again, as he refers to articles, thread comments etc from past sites we have used as recovery help.
He admitted he has been checking boxes all this time too. HE told her he was hoping that would appease me but it hasn’t. Well duh. But I guess me telling him that did not sink in. Four years of stagnation seems to be budging him. Guess we all move forward at our own rate.
We’ll see.
I told him in last night’s email it is going to take me many, many reiterations of his responsibility taking, processing the why’s and displaying regret before my heart can hope to thaw. I’ve had to protect myself behind detachment in love boundaries low these many months. They will remain in place until and if there is consistent change of heart and behavior. I am not allowing myself to be too encouraged. I’m too tired of faux recovery and false starts.
I bide my time and stay the course. And listen for him to talk in truth.
And now the drawing made by a 22 year old in an attempt to explain to children where all the animals lost in the Australian conflagration have gone. Depicting a likeness of the late Steve Irwin crocodile whisperer from Australia, on one knee, arms outstretched toward a flock of koalas, emus, kangies and others: “Don’t worry little guys. I’ll take care of you.”
I can’t even wrap my mind around the loss of the innocents. Heartbreak.
I was trying to explain to my UH why I find it so offensive when he (still) brings up our low sex marriage before and during his affair as a resentment/reason he chose to leave the marriage. Yet he expected me to stay and be fully functional.
How do I explain? When a husband withdraws emotional intimacy from his wife, many of us struggle to feel sexual toward them. In my case, it felt like I was more like a physical entitlement to him than a loved and cherished spouse. He did not share with me his thoughts, feelings or struggles, even when I asked. He did not truly listen or validate mine, even though I never stopped sharing them. I did not withdraw emotionally. I kept making bids for his care.
As a woman, this woman, I need to feel emotionally connected and valued to feel sexual desire. At the time I chalked it up to young motherhood exhaustion and an eleven year marriage. Sure, we weren’t frisky as we had been before kids. Seemed natural not to be, even though I mourned it and expressed my loneliness within the relationship. In retrospect it seems pretty clear to me that I was not feeling valued and therefore not sexual. 20/20 hindsight. Tragedy is I felt somehow responsible. What was wrong with me? Seems nothing was in light of the truth.
As I have processed through my/our history I have gained compassion for the struggling young mother who tried to rectify her lower libido through research, doctor visits and duty sex (yuck–that is just wrong because it made me feel like an object) The woman then entering peri-menopause and all the challenges that placed squarely on my shoulders–without concern or empathy from my spouse. Only negative judgement kept to himself and outwardly, impatience.
For him to still be using my lower libido as a reason he abandoned our marriage is very hurtful to me. It feels like the height of hubris, narcissism and arrogance to retain any resentment or right to complain about lack of enough sex when it was his withdrawal emotionally that fueled my lower libido. I was in an emotional desert and he resented/resents me for not producing a full crop of sex.
I have also tried to convey that any sex we did have during those years was under false pretense/manipulation and lies. I would never have consented to sex had I known he was having sex with someone else. In essence, the sex we did have was stolen from me–was undertaken without my full consent. I was used as a wife prop–a vessel of masturbation because there was no truth in love. I was manipulated into thinking I was in a monogamous relationship.
And THAT is what I felt. I didn’t know why I felt it. But I felt it. I felt pressured, placed under demand, belittled for not being more sexual–never the empathy and concern that a healthy spouse might exhibit. No concern fo me the person–why was a healthy 36-46 year old woman suffering lower libido when she’d not had that issue before? He held me at fault and accountable but never lifted a finger to do anything but resent and betray me as a result. He blamed me for being a woman doing the best she could in an emotional desert, which was not good enough for him. HE judged I was withholding and rejecting him on purpose.
Why does he not validate this uncovered reality now? Great question. Where is the understanding and remorse for having placed me in that emotional desert and then abused me for the consequences? Where is the claiming of responsibility and the regret for having left me stranded in an emotional void? Where is the apology for using me as a sexual object to meet his needs he felt were owed to him even though he knew he was betraying me at the same time? What arrogance and entitlement. What lack of concern and love for the person you call ‘wife’. What a hypocrite then and still unrepentant, responsibility avoidant man now.
But it is my brokenness and intentional neglect in his addict mind that caused his betrayal.
And I am supposed to want to reconcile with a person like that? Strong boundaries are in place and shall remain. I work toward moving on and pray he will grow to understand the consequences of his actions. Maybe even regret robbing me of an authentic marriage.
“Next time a life situation starts to get the best of you, pause, take a deep breath, and then ask yourself:
–What is the story I’m telling myself about this situation? –Can I be absolutely certain the story is true? –How do I feel and behave when I tell myself the story? –If I stopped telling myself the story once and for all, what else might I see, hear, or experience?
Give yourself the space to think it through carefully. Mull it over consciously.”
I’ve learned that I like my teacher because she cries when we sing “Silent Night.” Age 5 * I’ve learned that our dog doesn’t want to eat my broccoli either. Age 7 * I’ve learned that when I wave to people in the country, they stop what they are doing and wave back. Age 9 * I’ve learned that just when I get my room the way I like it, Mom makes me clean it up again. Age 12 * I’ve learned that if you want to cheer yourself up, you should try cheering someone else up. Age 14 * I’ve learned that although it’s hard to admit it, I’m secretly glad my parents are strict with me. Age 15 * I’ve learned that silent company is often more healing than words of advice. Age 24 * I’ve learned that brushing my child’s hair is one of life’s great pleasures. Age 26 * I’ve learned that wherever I go, the world’s worst drivers have followed me there. Age 29 * I’ve learned that if someone says something unkind about me, I must live so that no one will believe it. Age 30 * I’ve learned that there are people who love you dearly but just don’t know how to show it. Age 42 * I’ve learned that you can make someone’s day by simply sending them a little note. Age 44 * I’ve learned that the greater a person’s sense of guilt, the greater his or her need to cast blame on others. Age 46 * I’ve learned that children and grandparents are natural allies. Age 47 * I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on and it will be better tomorrow. Age 48 * I’ve learned that singing “Amazing Grace” can lift my spirits for hours. Age 49 * I’ve learned that motel mattresses are better on the side away from the phone. Age 50 * I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a man by the way he handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. Age 51 * I’ve learned that keeping a vegetable garden is worth a medicine cabinet full of pills. Age 52 * I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you miss them terribly after they die. Age 53 * I’ve learned that making a living is not the same thing as making a life. Age 58 * I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. Age 62 * I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something back. Age 64 * I’ve learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you. But if you focus on your family, the needs of others, your work, meeting new people, And doing the very best you can, happiness will find you. Age 65 * I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with kindness, I usually make the right decision. Age 66 * I’ve learned that everyone can use a prayer. Age 72 * I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. Age 74 * I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love that human touch – holding hands, a warm hug, Or just a friendly pat on the back. Age 76 * I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. Age 78 * I’ve learned that life is what you make it, and your life is much better when you make someone happy. Age 80+
Christine Renewed 