So I wrote my husband a love letter detailing all the things I love about him. HIM. Not some concept of a husband. Not things I wanted or things I needed. I detailed some things he brought to the relationship that I now understand were unappreciated and unheard by me. Unfiltered and without any reservations or requirements of him.
He texted and asked me to tea. (We both quit coffee a short time ago, we aren’t that proper!) Since I am about 6+ hours away from Chicago and he’s there and working, we are speaking tonight. Not face to face as he asked but it’s something.
I am hopeful for the future. I’m not going to make demands; I have always made demands. I’ve been very demanding in our relationship but I’m prepared give and understand instead. Novel idea for me but more kind and more in line with who I want to be. And that’s hopeful regardless of the outcome.
I am going into this evening from a place of love and kindness. Let that be my guide.
Regardless of the outcome, writing out my feelings in a public arena like a blog is scary but I am going to keep going here. This process here over the single week alone has helped me more than anything so far. Being vulnerable is hard but being accountable is what I need here.
My sadness ebbs and flows, and these last 24 have been overwhelming. Silent tears as I sat in the window just staring.
My mom asked if reconciliation was an option and that made me pause. Yes I want that, of course I do. I love that man with everything I have in me. (Not just having a person of my own, but I love Stephen.)
However, any reconciliation not likely unless I change. I need to approach things differently. I’m still clinging to the fantasies and dreams. Until I have the space to grieve and do a full postmortem there is no possibility of me asking for any consideration.
That also gives Stephen the time to assess things and come to a certain amount of clarity. Last week he was clear that he rejected me and what I brought to the marriage. Will he do the same if I bring something else? If I’m able or forgive myself and him for our past? I don’t know the answer to that and will not in my current state.
In the meantime it’s just one step at a time. One day, one minute, one second. That’s all I can manage right now. Second by second. Tear by silent tear.
I find myself going under. I’m drowning in emotions and sadness and I don’t know what to do. It’s so hard to miss someone who doesn’t want you anymore. It’s so hard to love someone who doesn’t love you. It’s so hard to want someone who doesn’t want you. I’m sitting here trying desperately to love myself and move forward but tonight it’s just not working.
I’m walking streets where we walked. Going places I’ve only been with Stephen at my side. It hurts so much right now. I’m so damned vulnerable and scared.
All my family and friends are wonderful, yes. But they are not my partner, my Esteban. The man who did a thousand little things for me to make me happy. The man who threw me away. It’s hard to be out of the fog and drop kicked into reality without him.
One of the things I am uncovering is a truth I always knew, but hardly ever executed. Help from a variety of sources… helps.
I’ll first explain that I’ve always pushed to be very independent from my family. I have very good friends but was their support when needed; I never asked for much in the way of help for myself. I never considered reading a <shudder> self-help book. I’m smart and made it 45 years by my wits and tenacity alone. Help for myself was weakness.
Turns out help is actually love in a variety of formats. Take for example this here blog. It’s my form of love for myself. I’m taking things I’ve known or thought I’ve known and actually doing them with love for myself. Documenting some of the reactions I’m having to where I am to see changes happen.
I recently finished a self-help book that in looking with an editorial eye, obviously started as one person’s words to themselves. Blog, journal or written in tears – it was a personal account of their own journey after being left by a spouse that they turned around to share. I found so much empathy and love written within that it actually helped. In fact, one point was so perfectly succinct I’m sharing here…
If I am bossy or pushy, people will be rejected by my behavior and avoid me. If I am the opposite, and let everyone push me around, then I will be unhappy and I will ultimately resent them (and myself for allowing the scenario to flourish).
Wow. That was exactly the life I’ve lived with Stephen for years. I was bossy, he was the opposite and resented me. It’s nothing deep down I don’t know but the book shared what comes next and how to find your way to solace while being alone — now and in the future. How to be better in wreckage you find yourself in so you don’t repeat your mistakes in any future relationships. It also exposed that part of me to myself clearly.
If I don’t see myself with clarity, how could I say I love myself? How can I forgive myself for my past errors if I’m constantly hard on myself and maintaining rigid independence? And if I don’t love myself, how can I give anyone else love? I can’t, no one could.
So this 98 page self-help book written by someone who is not a writer was actually helpful! It’s amazing. Without that kind guidance I don’t know I’d get to where I am as quickly. I’m not done or ready to start executing plans… but I’m finding solace and I’m forgiving myself. I’m close to being able to forgive Stephen.
My sister-in-law started a blog a while back to share how she was doing as she moved through widowhood with her three sons. (You can find her blog here if you’re interested: https://thenewdenise.com) She looks for some solace in sharing, perhaps. I get it. It’s helpful and right now, helpful helps.
Maybe one day I’ll have enough back inside me to return the help and love I’m finding in a broader capacity.
So let’s look at where I am now at as a thought retreat. A resting place before the arduous tasks before me. Time to stop things I’m actively planning. The plates I’m picking up to plan how I’ll spin them on their respective poles can sit still for now. I can look at them, but they need to remain still. I need to pause and I need to find stillness.
I need all the jumble of thoughts crowding my head to retreat.
I’m spending the next part of my life in a small town in northern Michigan. A very far cry from downtown Chicago. It feels like someplace where one would have a retreat. I’m surrounded by beautiful nature and loving support – both here and a phone call or text away. There’s loads of delicious food, like my mom making me homemade chicken noodle soup when I arrived. My family is embracing my desire to change and want to show me some nature hikes that will immerse me further in this lovely spot. My mom has a spa membership she can share to support my quest to get out of this fog and get healthy. So I can stand taller and see clearer when all is said and done.
So the concept of a thought retreat is very much how this is shaping up.
However, when all is quiet things creep back in… those thoughts that retreat come rushing back. Unloved. Unwanted. Alone. Is this any different from downtown Chicago if I spend the day watching Netflix and wishing Stephen loved and wanted me by his side? These are the thoughts I need to retreat from my mind. One step at a time.
Time is going to be my new partner. Time and stillness here in my north woods retreat.
(And obviously loads of time to write down my retreating but persistent thoughts!)
Recently a good friend and I spoke about the rising storm that hit me full force last week – my husband asking me to leave him alone and dissolving our marriage. When in conversation this analogy of a relationship as a tandem bicycle was raised it was the beginning of that storm, so I wasn’t sure what was going to happen… counseling, separation or divorce. Regardless, the conversation and her analogy was appropriate when I do a postmortem on my marriage.
Imagine you get married and get on a tandem bike. Our bike looked like this – I was the driver, steering the bike. Stephen was the power behind me doing a lot of the pedaling. We went in a direction we were both happy with, pedaling along together. I still steered, he put in a lot of the power that first decade. We hit bumps, but we loved each other and wanted to be on that bike.
Then he stopped wanting to go where I went. He stopped putting the power into pedaling. He coasted a lot. I would stop and ask — why aren’t you putting more in? We need to get where we are going!! He would tell me he would try and pedal harder and he guessed he’d go where I wanted. Truth always was he didn’t want to go where I was pedaling towards… adulthood, responsibilities and financial obligations that lasted 30 years or longer. I was of the mindset that everyone travels this road and got scared because the power behind me was only sporadically there. Then it would drift off into a fog for the next 10 years.
Two things about that… I was a big advocate for staying in the fog, since it obscured the pain from feeling alone. It was a false sense of togetherness being in the fog together. But it wasn’t a clear view and honestly it became the reason behind a lot of what we did together. Second point was my fear and how that worked. As I got more frightened by pedaling this tandem bike alone I got angry. I was mad that he said he wanted to go in the direction I was steering; I got angrier still at the coasting and the lack of interest in where I was trying to get us to. My anger became everything. Everything. It became me.
Eventually we would stop the bike and threaten to go with separate bikes all together. I was fearful to begin with and this just made the fear paralytic. The only thing I could do is find my anger and wrap it around me. Live it breathe it. I stopped steering and got lost in the fog. Stephen stopped peddling and stayed in the fog, too.
Now Stephen stopped taking the tandem bike into the “shop” to fix it and wants to go his own way. My fear turned into anger did that. The fog we made for ourselves obscured everything.
I want back on the bike, but the right way. I want Stephen who is not lost in a fog. I want the Stephen that was pedaling along with me and shouting directions as to where I was steering. My wants aren’t important to him anymore and I will respect that. I don’t know if being together on the tandem bike is possible for us any more. This is where I am now.
I am slowly replacing the anger and paralysis with kindness and love. This is where I am going. I’m still scared but it’s what I do about that fear that is the opportunity for growth.
Recently, after many years and sniping and fighting… followed by ultimatums and appeasements my husband bowed out of our marriage. I love him despite these circumstances and his decision.
Right now, today and this moment it’s very hard to find the love for him through the haze of personal pain.
But I can and I will. It’s something I can do from where I am. I can give him that as the final gift of love and kindness. It’s just going to take time for me to get through the pain.
After a day working together I’ve lost it. Tried and failed. I can’t do this right now. I need out from under the knowledge I’m not wanted. It’s the kindest way. This brings me here. Kindness.
I started in a good place. A place of kindness. Getting back there will be a good road for me to take.
Before the crash I was kind. I will be kind again.
The girl who mistook her chair as a pulpit for the soles of her shoes 