Oct 17 2011
3 Comments
Hanging On, Self Discovery

I Am DONE

Almost immediately after my husband’s departure, I became disillusioned with our marriage.

I wanted him to “check in” with me, whatever chance he got.  I asked him who he was with; where he was staying; what he was doing.  I asked him if we could set up a time to Skype, daily.  He never gave me a straight answer.  He told me he would “write more later”.  Furthermore, we were totally broke.  I couldn’t keep up with the bills on my own, even with all the odd jobs I was working.  My husband kept promising that a check for $4,000.00 was coming in the mail.

It never did.

I started to panic.  I called my marriage counselor and asked him what to do.  He reminded me of my end of the “bargain”.  March 16th.  March 16th.

It was barely the first week of March.

I didn’t want to fail.  I wanted to be a good, supportive wife.  I wanted God to bless my marriage, and my attempts at saving it.  I wanted to give it my all, or die trying.

So, I went back to the drawing board.  I emailed my husband.

I want to support you in every way you need me to.  I am sorry if I have been demanding of your time.  I am here for you – there is no pressure to Skype or have a quota of email to fulfill.  I want you to do the best job you can and you shouldn’t have the extra pressure of trying to succumb to my demands.  I’m sorry. Email me when you can; I really will do my very best to give you space and the freedom to do your job.

I’m sorry, I really am.

I love you,

~Leslie

My email had meant the world to him.  He said he loved me so much, and wanted to be there for me, but thanked me for understanding. It brought tears to his eyes.

And then, the long-awaited check arrived. It wasn’t anywhere near $4,000.00, but it was enough for the time being.  I thanked my husband for helping contribute.  He was relieved, and stayed very busy.  Oftentimes days would pass before I would hear from him.  We had a couple of Skype conversations, but he was too distracted.  Our communication started to wane, as I backed off my pursuit of him.  I continued to type and send the daily devotionals, but I did not offer, nor press him for further information.

He wanted to know what was going on.

I know that you are really busy and I am just trying to give you the space you need to do your job, without the pressure of a relationship on top of it, I wrote.

I realized that there truly was nothing that we could do for our marriage while he was away.  I also realized that my end of the bargain was a real shitty one, but felt guilty for not wanting to follow through with it.

I wrote in my fresh, thick, black journal.

I am doing all the hard work, I am in therapy and marriage counseling.  He shows up but is JUST GOING THROUGH THE MOTIONS.  He knows exactly what to say  — gives me just enough to hang on, but I am starting to crack and crumble.  If you don’t water a plant it will die.  “Thank you for your support” basically means “thanks for getting off my back and not pressuring me to be in a relationship with you.”  I KNOW this guy.

I feel like I’m sticking with it to please my marriage counselor and my therapist.  I am so tired.

I don’t want to be tied down to him anymore. 

This guy has a LOT to do.  It may be years before he fully matures.  I am not that patient.

I don’t even know if I love him anymore.

I went to therapy twice that week.  I walked in, sat down, and told my therapist I’d had enough. I wanted my life back.

Without missing a beat, she said, “All right!  We need to change our goals, then.”

I was shocked.  I was sure that she wanted me to stay in my marriage.  Wasn’t that the right thing to do?  The Christian thing to do?  Yet, at the same time, it felt so freeing. She told me I needed to figure out what I wanted.  Make a list, write it down, do some soul-searching.

Who is Leslie without her husband?

I would eventually figure out the answer to that question, but to get there, I had to write.

I feel like the winds of change are upon me…instead of doing whatever it takes or being desperate for the marriage, I’m willing, ready and wanting to do what is best overall.  This is my life, and I don’t want my entire life to be like the past six months.

I want OUT of my marriage.  I want MY life.  I want to find someone who will love me for who I am, not what I do, or how I do it.  I want someone who won’t keep leaving me.

I do feel like there has been a death.  I am becoming unattached to him, and my therapist thinks so, too.  I’m just so tired of this.  It’s been six months of hanging on, hoping, praying, wishing, crying, screaming, panicking, fighting, sobbing, drinking, throwing things, reading self-help books, packing, unpacking, long phone calls to friends, crying, crying, pounding tables with fists, searching, asking WHY, trying.

Life goes on.  I don’t want to fix it anymore; I have no interest.  This guy I married ten years ago is non-existent.  He is caught up in his career – great, that’s wonderful.  Am I being unfair?  Maybe, sure.  I am tired of playing fair and being patient.  Being faithful to him got me NO WHERE in the first place.  No promises.  He makes no effort to be in the relationship, even when not pressured.  Patience doesn’t work; NOTHING works.  I gave it all I had and I want it to be over NOW.

God, he’s yours.  Not mine anymore.

I am DONE DONE DONE –

Soon after I finished penning my thoughts, I received an email from my husband. He was staying in Australia, and didn’t know when he would return.

Oct 15 2011
2 Comments
New beginnings

A Brand New Storm

We immediately headed back into counseling.  It would be our last session together.

Ever.

We made yet another deal.  The time frame was actually my husband’s idea.  He would give himself one month — not nine! — to “make it or break it”.  My end of the bargain was to give him as much support as he needed, without putting pressure on him.  We all shook hands and marked our calendars.  March 16th was the “deadline”.

One month was better than nine.  I felt a huge sense of relief, yet still frustrated.  It didn’t seem fair. My marriage counselor pulled me aside.

“Leslie, I know this is SACRIFICIAL, but I do believe it will be like that paradox of the Prodigal Son/ Waiting Father parable.  If you love him, set him free.  Then he will have the freedom to really return to you out of love, not law!”

More than anything, I wanted my husband to return to me out of love, so I agreed.   We also agreed to pray for and encourage one another.  In addition, we would utilize the daily devotional book that our counselor had recommended.

To this day, I read it, even though the title makes me giggle.  “Jesus Calling!  Hello?!”

Andrea and I were committed to a bachelorette party that weekend in Palm Springs.  It was a much-needed getaway.  We would be staying in a lovely home with a sparkling pool, drinking champagne cocktails, watching girly movies, painting our nails and celebrating the end of our dear friend’s singlehood.  Furthermore, I couldn’t wait to drive the golf cart.

Andrea picked me up Friday afternoon in “The Potato”.  My husband helped me carry my luggage to the car.

“Hey, will you email me ‘Jesus Calling’ while I’m away?” I asked him, as he loaded my tiny suitcase onto the smooth, leather seat in the back. I fumbled in my purse for my sunglasses.

“I will,” he said.  He shut the door.  I found my glasses, but held them in my hand.  We stood, awkwardly, for a moment.

“Have a safe trip to Australia,” I offered. His flight was leaving that Sunday — just a few hours before Andrea, the Potato and I would return to Los Angeles.

“I love you, Leslie.”

I searched his face.  Perhaps I was searching his soul.
“I love you, too.”

He gave me a hug.  I got in the car, and we drove away.

As I was relaxing on day two of the bachelorette weekend with my girlfriends, my husband wrote me.  He had typed out the “Jesus Calling” devotional.  In addition, he said that he missed me, and wanted a new start.  He thought we could be better than we ever were.

I want to believe you, I responded.  Just please keep in touch.

He said he would keep in touch, and this time would be different.  He was praying for God’s will, and also praying that he would do a good job.  He hoped that his career would excite me again.  He wanted big things for both of us.  He imagined flying from Australia to New York, catching a cab and meeting me in my dressing room just before I took the Broadway stage.

I just want to start with being loved and trusting you, was my response.

I understand your personality.  I also think reality needs to be dealt with gracefully.  Our dreams won’t be accomplished if we cannot handle the small, daily things in our lives.  My dreams have never changed.  My reality has.

Some of my dreams include being with you, traveling together, taking even just a weekend – no phones or computers – to remember who we are together. Get to know each other again. We are still living such separate lives and it makes me sad. 

My husband left the country on February 21, 2010.  He called me on his way to the airport to say goodbye.  We told each other — again – that we loved each other.  March 16th was just around the corner, and I was grateful to have an end in sight.

I’ll never forget the way the sky looked that day, as Andrea drove us back from Palm Springs.  It was astounding.  The clouds were thick and billowy, yet the sun’s brilliant light had no trouble shining through the darkness.  The mountains were still lightly dusted with snow; the air was clean, balmy and fragrant.   I was filled with an overwhelming sense of peace.
It was the calm before the storm, but this was a brand new storm: one that would fuel me with strength and clarity.
Little did I know, as I captured random photos of the picturesque horizon, it would take my husband nine weeks and five days to return.  And, in that time, both of our lives would be forever changed.
Oct 12 2011
3 Comments
Battling, F Bombs

You Made Me Hate You

My husband returned home after the film with a bottle of wine.  He presented it to me as his peace offering/belated Valentine’s Day gift.

All was quiet on the western front.

Our mortgage was due the next day, but we didn’t have the money to pay it.  Somehow my husband was able to purchase new, designer sunglasses.  He told me he needed them for his trip.  He was leaving in less than a week.

I re-assumed my battle station.
“Because you have to ‘look good’ in Australia?  That is a priority?  This is not how to dig out of financial problems.  I’m sure you have some logical answer for this.”  I threw my hands in the air.

“I understand your frustration,” he calmly stated.  “I do have logical arguments that you already know, so they don’t need to be gone over again.  It’s easy to think of our own things – your swimming at the Rose Bowl, my sunglasses – as ‘essentials’.  I genuinely give you the benefit of the doubt about your expenses, so I’d really appreciate the same.”

Incredible.

I kept my mouth shut, poured out my frustration in my prayer journal, and waited to discuss the problem in counseling, later that day.  I was determined to keep things peaceful, no matter how manipulated I was feeling.

I am trying, but I still feel he is focused on himself, his image and career.  It’s rotten timing.  He deserves to be successful, OF COURSE!  He deserves a shot; a chance, and he is doing it.  He will never in a million years believe I support him, care, or think he’s doing a good job.  So, why try anymore?

My husband did not accompany me to marital therapy that day.  He had to attend a last-minute meeting with his magazine’s photographer.  I went to the session, alone, for the second time that week.  I then went over to my friends, Jeff and Jenny’s, house.  I sat at the dinner table with their joyful toddler, who smiled and giggled with me.  I tried not to think about my barren womb.

When I got home, my husband had just returned.  I asked him how his meeting went.

“I’m drunk,” he responded.

“You do realize that it looks like you just went out and got drunk with your friend instead of going to counseling,” I judged.

I then thought back to the session earlier in the day, where my marriage counselor had commended me for not having gotten angry.  I closed my eyes, then took a deep breath.

“How was your meeting?” I asked, gently.

My husband brightened.  It had gone really well! They had a bunch of ideas, and it felt good to be creative again.  He explained that he had been down and out about life until that particular meeting.  In fact, he had been so frustrated about our financial situation, that he punched the windshield of his truck.  It cracked.

But the meeting made him feel better.  It confirmed to him that he was on the right path.

He bustled around the bare kitchen, found a glass, and poured himself some water.
“I’m going to watch American Idol.  Do you want to watch it with me?”

“No, thanks,” I said.  I didn’t need to feel any more “down and out” about my own career.

We later went to bed in our separate rooms.  I tried to sleep, but felt restless.  My mind drifted to our financial situation.

Most couples divorce over financial problems.  Most couples divorce over lack of communication.  Most certainly the majority of divorces are due to adultery. 

I have all three glaring me in the face.

I started crying, loudly.  Sobbing.  I was, most likely, being overdramatic, but I was scared.  I decided to get up and tell my husband that he had no heart.  How could he lay in the other room and listen to me sob?  Why did this have to be so hard?  Why couldn’t he scoop me into his arms, hold me and tell me how much he loved me?

What happened next is a bit of a blur, but between yelling and screaming at each other, I remember taking off my wedding ring and throwing it across the room.  It landed on the floor in slow motion, a la a scene taken from The Lord of the Rings.

My husband followed suit.  He pitched his as hard as he could, and it landed right next to mine. (Under different circumstances, we might have had an excellent little game of bocce ball going.)

“DOESN’T IT FEEL GOOD?!”  I screeched.
Uhh, can someone please call Nurse Ratched, STAT?

“STOP BEING SO SMUG!” He screamed back.  He went on to yell about me being on my “moral high horse” because I had gone to counseling, and he hadn’t.

I ran into the kitchen, grabbed the Valentine’s Day card I had purchased for him, and demonstratively ripped it into tiny, little pieces.

It only angered him further.  “FUCK YOU!  YOU MADE ME HATE YOU!
YOU.  MADE.  ME.  HATE.  YOU.”

I glowered at him.
“I didn’t make you do anything.”

We continued to scream awful, awful things at each other.  Finally, in the most heated moment, a look of determination crossed over my husband’s weathered, handsome face.

“You’ll never see me again.”

He left.  I heard his truck engine start, and he drove away.

I slumped to the floor, next to those damn wedding rings.  I couldn’t stand looking at them, so I sat up, and supported my back against the metal frame of the creaky, twin bed. I couldn’t cry anymore.  I just stared out the window, into the quiet.

I am a total failure.

I don’t know exactly how many minutes passed, but then, my husband’s tall frame stood in the doorway.

“I am so sorry for the vile things I screamed at you, Leslie.”  His voice remained quiet; defeated.
“That is not who I am, or who I want to be.”

I kept staring out the window.  My eyelids felt heavy.
“Did you mean what you said?”

“No.”

He sat down next to me, sighed heavily, and started crying.  I stared at him for a moment, then reached over to him.  I pulled him towards me and held him, as he collapsed into my arms.  We cried together.  We prayed together.

The moment — the room – the twin bed – it all felt so familiar.

Five long months had passed, and we were still in the same place.

Oct 11 2011
28 Comments
I love Jesus

My Story for His Glory

Wait, wait, wait — wait a minute.

Time out.

“Why are you writing this?”

“Why on earth would you start a blog about your divorce?  Nobody wants to read about that. You’re sharing WAY too much personal information. You’re going to get in big trouble. You should think twice before posting. You must still be stuck on your ex. You’re way too consumed with the past. Furthermore, what man is going to want to date you, after reading all of this?  You’re insane! STOP!”

These are the thoughts that run through my head, or maybe what other people are thinking. (Nice try, Satan, you ninny.  I’m sick of you!)

Then a smile spreads across my face, and I say, “This is me.”

I’m trusting God to use my story for His glory.  Yep.  I said it.  I said that cheesy, Christian-ese phrase:  MY STORY FOR HIS GLORY!  There!  I shouted it.

My intention is not to defame anybody.  I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially myself.  There is no “good guy/bad guy” in this story, because we’re all broken human beings.  But God uses our brokenness, and can make beautiful, new life out of the darkness; out of the ashes.

I don’t actually know who is reading this.  I do know how many are, though, and the feedback I have received has been extremely positive.  I believe that my readers can identify with my thoughts, feelings and experiences, even if their own journey or beliefs are not exactly the same. One person even thanked me for helping her remember how much she missed reading. (!!)

That is why I keep going.

I’m a writer.

Furthermore, this isn’t the only story I have to tell.

I’m not making money, I don’t have a book deal, maybe I never will.  I don’t know what God’s ultimate purpose for this is, but I do know that He is in control. He’s always in control.

I used to think that I had my life together.  I also used to think that I had to be “perfect” in order to have a voice in this world.

Guess what?  I’m not perfect.  I am a broken, mangled, mess of a human being who just so happens to have gone through a heart-wrenching divorce.  I do not recommend divorce.  It is almost worse than death, maybe simply for the fact that the other person is still alive. There is no “happy ending”. But, I can tell you – there is hope.  There is always hope.  Hope, Part Infinity.

Isaiah 40:31 – “But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

So, my friends, I continue — my story for HIS glory.

Oct 10 2011
1 Comment
Love, Sad

The Right Thing to Do

He wasn’t home when I finally returned.  I carefully arranged, and re-arranged the card and candy bar on the kitchen table, then sat in the dark.  I stared out the window at the lone street lamp, struggling to shine its brilliance through the thick, bare tree branches.  My house was cold and quiet.  Empty. The walls ached, and the deafening silence somehow echoed my pain.

I wrote.  It was the only thing I could do.

Ironically, the following email was never sent.  I figured my husband was tired of hearing my heart.

You are at a movie right now.  I am anticipating you coming home and explaining to me how you want a separation and how I misbehaved and how my attitude is rotten and the straw man and umbrella and all that conversation…and the thought of it all makes me tired…

And then I think of how I love you.  Oh, my husband, how I love you.  How I’ve always loved you. How I truly would not be happy if you weren’t in my life, even after all the pain and hurt you have caused me.  I have tried my best to hurt you back, I have, and obviously that isn’t working.  I am flailing and reacting and hurting so, so much, and disappointed and angry…

And then I think of how I love you.  I want to be with you, and I want us to stop fighting and start rebuilding in a positive way.  I know I am not always positive.  I want to try. And try harder. 

And I think of how God loves me, and how He loves you, and how He looks upon us, and our marriage, and I just want it to be pleasing to Him.  I don’t want to act like an idiot anymore.  I don’t want you to act like one, either.  

I know we can do this with God’s help.  There’s always going to be a reason to separate, get mad, split up, leave, want a divorce, want to make the other person feel the pain and hurt that we are feeling.  Sometimes I wish that you knew how badly I am hurt; how broken I am because of you and your sin, but the nicer part of me wants to protect you from that pain.

On the other hand…

I don’t know.  If you want to separate, do it like a man.  Don’t run off to another country just yet. Help me figure out what to do with the house so we can at least be financially responsible for our own individual future.  I don’t want to be screwed over anymore than I already have been, and I don’t have any intention to screw you over.  Please, if we are to separate, PLEASE be mature and responsible and think of your future — think of your future wife, your future kids – don’t just run off and throw your credit in the toilet anymore than it already is.  I guess all I ask in a separation is that you be responsible enough to see through what is best for this house situation so that we protect our investment and ourselves in the best way possible.  It’s the right thing to do.

Oct 09 2011
6 Comments
Battling, Love

Valentine’s Day

I fled the house.

I spent the night downtown with my friend (“Wife”), Andrea.  I needed shelter, and to be away from my husband.  I might have driven him to anger, but there was no way I would tolerate physical abuse.  Andrea and I hiked and talked for four hours the next morning, and then I headed to south Orange County to spend a few days with my best friend, Joy, and her new husband, Micah.

Joy met me at the door with a glass of red wine.  She had drawn me an Epsom salt bath (my legs were sore from hiking), lit candles and placed little chocolates along the tub.  She wrote me a beautiful card.  She wanted me to have a “happy” Valentine’s Day.  I burst into tears.   I have the most amazing, steadfast, giving and loyal friends in my life.  It felt incredible to be cared for; to be loved.

My husband had no idea where I was, and I didn’t have the energy or desire to tell him.  I assumed that he could have easily figured it out, but only if he truly cared.  I did not contact him.  Perhaps I wanted to punish him, but I mostly just wanted peace.  I was resolute.

I am done. I cannot move forward with him.  He is incapable of being a man.  He is not husband material.   He wants to be 22, single and “untethered”.  Lord, I pray for him and pray You SPANK HIS IMMATURE, IDIOT ARSE.

Yet, I still cried —
God, save us.  God, RESTORE my marriage with miracles and redemption.  Help me to not react, help me find peace.

My husband emailed me every day.  His emails were constant, yet brief.  He didn’t know where I was, or what I was feeling. He was sick to his stomach.  He was sure there were “one million things” that he could have done better, but he didn’t want to live under the umbrella of what he had done, “every minute of every day.” He didn’t know why there was such silence.  Was this what I wanted?  Did I even care?  He didn’t know “what happened on Friday night that pushed us” to that point.  He didn’t know why I wouldn’t communicate with him.

And then, I received a lengthy email.

He wished me a Happy Valentine’s Day, and said it was hard for him to not know where I was.  He didn’t know why I had left, and wondered, almost aloud, if I had gotten fed up with him, or just needed time alone.

Our abrupt break had left him reeling, a little.

My husband went on to detail what he wanted: for us to be partners.  He wanted us to take joy in each other’s lives and show the world how two people could live to their fullest potential.  He recognized that the words “career” and “support” had become so loaded between us.

He wanted happiness.  He wanted stage (for me); writing (for him).  He wanted simple things, too, like eating spaghetti and taking our dog on walks.  He wanted understanding.

He figured we’d work through the hard stuff, including his affair.  We’d move forward, towards a new partnership, together.  He explained that he would never stop believing in the way that our relationship could look.

Except: I left without a word.  That killed him. Yet, maybe I was right.  Maybe we’d have to separate in order for our relationship to work.  Maybe we both needed time to experience what our lives would be like without the other.

He felt, very strongly, that I had made him out to be some sort of “evil straw man” over the past two months.  He refused to live with the image that I had of him; of who I thought he was.  He concluded that if separation was the only way to destroy this image I had of him, then perhaps we should stay apart.

At the same time, he loved me.  And that was that.

I finally wrote him back, later that night, and told him I’d meet him at marriage counseling the next day.

I felt anxious and suffocated.  And he was only reeling, a little?  I didn’t want to go back into the war zone.  I started to realize that I didn’t want the same things that my husband had just described.  He still didn’t get it.  I wanted a husband who would love me and not abandon me.  I wanted a partner who sought after God first.  I wanted to be treated right.  I wanted children.  I slowly realized that my dreams and desires had changed.

For nine years I lay in bed at night, next to my husband, and dreamed of a career on Broadway.  When I finally made it off-Broadway, I lay alone, and dreamed of a husband and children.

Isaiah 41:13 – For I am the LORD your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, “Do not fear, I will help you.”

Oh, Lord, what a beautiful promise, and what better place to be than in Your Presence; in Your hands!  Lord, the anxiety, fear and worry take me down…I am trying to control my own life, I’m trying to control/change my husband, and it just doesn’t work.  None of it.  Lord, I truly want Your will and I feel like I’m too stupid, clueless or afraid to just let go.  I want to abandon my hopes and dreams for myself into YOUR hopes and dreams for me.

Feeling refreshed and encouraged after the weekend with my friends, I decided to go back into battle.  My first stop was marriage counseling.  When I arrived, my counselor informed me that he had just gotten off the phone with my husband.  He would not be attending the session.  He was confused and hurt.  I indignantly started to defend myself, but my counselor gently encouraged me to try to see things from my husband’s (broken) perspective.  He was trying.  He wanted the marriage.  Perhaps he wasn’t doing the best job, but he was still there, and his intentions were to re-build our life together.

I felt convicted, set up another appointment and headed home.

On the way, I stopped at the grocery store to buy a “belated” Valentine’s Day gift for my husband.  It felt cheesy, but my heart had been softened by his daily pursuit.  I spent more than twenty minutes in the Card and Party aisle.  Every single Valentine’s Day card I browsed pierced my heart with a jagged, rusty, barbed-wire arrow.  I couldn’t find the right one.  They were all full of love and happiness.  I didn’t feel love, or loved.  I wasn’t happy.  I couldn’t lie, but I wanted to make peace.

Finally, I found one that was appropriate.

TO MY HUSBAND,

You and I have been through
a lot together,and through everything,
both the good times and the bad,
there was always our love
holding the two of us together
and keeping our family close.
Even after all these years,
there’s still no better way to say it…
“I love you.”
Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day

 

Oct 08 2011
1 Comment
Bad Behavior, Battling, infidelity

“An Affairs”

My husband asked me out to lunch.

He drove, and even paid for the meal.  I was shocked.

At our favorite pho restaurant, my husband looked me straight in the eye and explained to me that he had purchased a ticket to France, and his flight was leaving at 8:40 p.m.  He was planning on being gone not for two weeks, but the entire month.

I started to interrupt, but he continued.

He said he had done a lot of thinking about the trip.  Something about it hadn’t seemed “right”.  He then took a deep breath and shared his revelation with me: the way he had been planning his trips had not taken me into consideration, at all.  He realized he had been acting as if he were a 22-year old, very single bachelor.

Well, shit on a shingle.  He gets it.

Furthermore, he realized that if he left on the plane that night, I would leave him.  He didn’t want our marriage to be over.

So he told me he wouldn’t go.

He then asked me to “partner” with him in his career.  He wanted me alongside him.  He didn’t want to be without me in any capacity.  He wanted to try harder.  He wanted my support.  He wanted to include me in everything he did.

That is what I had been wanting, all along!  I almost couldn’t believe that I was hearing it.  Maybe God had, indeed, changed my husband’s heart overnight.

Hope, Part Four.

We made a deal.  I agreed to be his partner.  He had gone out of his way to take a step forward, a giant leap towards a life together.  He still had to fly to Australia in a couple of weeks, but would keep me posted on every detail.  I was dubious but agreed, since a paycheck from one of his recent stories had come through.  We needed more like that to stay afloat.

A blessing and RELIEF, I wrote.  I truly would have left him, I believe, had he gone to France.  I am so glad I didn’t have to make that decision today.

I did not journal for an entire day.  Our exchanges were light-hearted, and full of inside jokes.

The day passed.

Soon after, I found my husband’s unused plane ticket, crumpled up in his backpack.  My heart sank.  His itinerary did not reflect France, at all.  The flight had been headed to Portugal.

Feeling massively disappointed, yet not at all surprised, I calmly confronted him with the evidence.  He made up some cockamamie excuse, but I knew he was going back to see the “investment banker”.  Still, I didn’t want to believe that he had had an affair with her, too.  It was so brazen, so blatant, and SO in-your-face that it couldn’t have been true!  I was officially the biggest, bloodiest fool in the entire universe.

My husband had “an affairS”.

Oh, God, even through my daily disappointment, I know deep down that You are by my side, holding my hand and walking me through this.

Broken.  Human.

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  ~Hebrews 12:3

The next day was a good one for me, personally.  I got a lot of work done, then treated myself to a swim at the Rose Bowl.  Feeling strong and confident, I impulsively decided to join the diving team for their nightly practice. I hadn’t been coached on a springboard since competing in high school, so it felt really good to do something fun and productive.  For me.

I went home exhausted, proud and happy.  I walked in the door to find my husband affixed to his usual spot on the couch.  He kept his eyes on his computer screen as I entered the living room.

“I’m hungry.”

Immediately, I felt myself shutting down.

We went to dinner at a BBQ restaurant.  I pushed the chicken and beans around on my plate and verbalized my feelings — the same old, crappy, tired feelings.  How many ways can you wonder if your marriage is going to survive?

My husband didn’t want to talk about it.

I was silent on the drive home, and when we arrived, my husband went to bed.  I had plans to go hiking with my friend, Andrea, in the morning, so I went to bed, too – in the guest room.  I hadn’t slept many nights in my marriage bed.  It was too difficult.

As I lay on my creaky twin mattress, my thoughts started to spin out of control.  I became angry, so I got up and started banging around.  I stormed into the Master bedroom where my husband slept and started to “pack” my belongings.  He woke up and sleepily asked me what I was doing.

“I’m PACKING!” I flailed about the room, wildly.

I shot my mouth off for several minutes, and then stomped back to the guest room, slammed the door, and locked it.

A few moments later my husband pounded the door with his fists.  He was livid.  I opened it, we screamed in each other’s faces, and then I tried to slam it again.  He stopped me.  He pushed his way into the tiny guest room, screaming, “STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT!” — through his teeth.  He then grabbed me with all of his strength, and violently threw me down on the bed.

A moment passed.  We stared at each other in horror.

I got up off the bed, rubbing the already-sore spot on my arm where he had grabbed hardest.

I picked up my bag, and moved towards him.  My eyes were flashing but I kept my voice low and steady.

“If you ever touch me again, I’ll kill you.”

Oct 07 2011
4 Comments
Hanging On

God? Please? Really?

Never in my life had I been more grateful for jury duty.

The very next morning, after the “altercation” with my mother-in-law, I was placed on a panel for a drug possession trial.  I half hoped I’d be selected, just to get away from my husband, and keep my insanity at bay. When the time came for me to answer questions, I told the D.A. my mother had dated a guy who turned out to be a crack addict, (truth!) so I’d probably not be the best candidate for impartiality.  However, I said I felt sorry for the guy, and eagerly offered that he looked like a cross between Terry Bradshaw and Owen Wilson. Indignant, the defendant raised an eyebrow.

Needless to say, I was not selected as one of the twelve.

That night, I fought even more with my husband, and then told him, “I think I want a divorce.”

What am I saying?  Do I really want a divorce?  I asked myself.  Who stays married anymore?  And, if that, who is truly happy?

I turned to my Bible for answers.  I kept writing down verses, holding onto them; clinging to God’s word.
Everything resonated.

2 Corinthians 10:5 – “We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”
God, take my thoughts, fear, anxiety, confusion, anger and hurt – I know these are all things You can heal.

Matthew 6:34- “Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Every day has enough trouble of its own.”
You can say that again.

2 Corinthians 4:18 – “So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen…”
You are the God who sees me.

Isaiah 30:18 – “Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion.” 
Wow, God.

Romans 8:28 – “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him and have been called according to his purpose.”
Even this shipwreck of a marriage — this horrible struggle — can be worked for GOOD.

Psalm 42:11 – “Why are you downcast, O my soul?  Why so disturbed within me?  Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.”
Help me, God.  I am a broken person. 

Isaiah 12:2 – “Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid.  The LORD, the LORD is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation.”
I will TRUST.

We went back to marriage counseling, and it was good.  We both agreed that our counselor was extremely diplomatic.  We were able to express ourselves in a safe environment.  I actually appreciated that our counselor called me out on my behavior.  I was always looking for ways to better myself in the relationship as it stood, but I also wanted to be heard.  I wanted my feelings to be valid.  It felt like we were making progress; gaining ground.

After our shorter, 90-minute session, we went out to dinner, and then perused Borders.  My husband loitered in the magazine section, while I marched straight upstairs to “Religion”.  I wanted to purchase and devour the two books our counselor had just recommended.

One other person wandered aimlessly in the religion section.  He was a 22-year old kid who, a month earlier, had discovered that his wife was cheating on him. He was still in shock, and practically vomited the whole story.  I listened, gave him a few details of my own journey thus far, and then heard myself encouraging him to stick with it, to not give up.  I even recommended a few books for him to read.  He thanked me profusely, and bought the daily devotional book of which I had highly spoken.

It felt good to encourage him, but I also felt like a phony.

Whattaheck?  I wrote.  Why can I come across as a grounded person and help someone through the same trial I am enduring, yet be so crazy, myself?

A few days later, my husband made a familiar announcement.  He was thinking of going to France and Australia.  He would be gone for two weeks.

Sigh.

We met with some friends for dinner; friends who knew the depth of our struggle.  They were extremely loving and encouraging.  They really wanted us to stay together.  Everyone did.  My husband said he didn’t want to lose me, yet honestly expressed his desire to “have his cake, and eat it, too.”

We drove home, reflecting upon our dinner conversation, and the love and support of our good friends.  We did not fight that evening.  Yet I still felt uneasy.

I rose early the next morning.
Lord, I come to You this morning, extremely weary. Confused.  Angry with the betrayal of my own thoughts and feelings.  Frustrated at the mountainous task ahead of trying to stay married.  I CANNOT DO IT, LORD.  I AM TOO WEAK…help me to somehow be WISELY supportive.  I need help trusting You, which is a silly, silly paradox.  I need help, God, help…my heart is so heavy.

Later in the day —
I told him that I did not want him to go to France or Australia.  He said that he would die (basically) if he couldn’t go.  He does not see his life as categories: God, marriage, career, etc., but all in one.  I don’t know how to respond.  I said that I would support him by praying for him.  I don’t know what else to do.

I just want Tuesday to come so that he will leave and I won’t be burdened with sadness anymore.  He chooses self.  He chooses escape.  OK.  How much longer do I stay with this person?  God?  Please?  Really?

And then, my husband “woke up”.

Oct 07 2011
7 Comments
Bad Behavior, Battling, F Bombs

I Don’t Want to Be Married to This Person Anymore

January 25, 2010
(I got the year wrong in the picture)

Father.

I just found a recent writing of [my husband’s] that was extra descriptive of a sexy girl – maybe it didn’t have to elude to anything other than describing another woman just to sell clothing but it HURTS SO MUCH.   MY HUSBAND who CHEATED on ME STILL THINKS ENOUGH ABOUT OTHER WOMEN to FREELY WRITE (about) THEM EVEN THOUGH IT HURTS ME, EVEN IF IT’S “NOTHING”.  I CAN’T DO THIS, GOD.  I CAN’T.

I told him to move out.

Without MISSING A BEAT, he said, “Ok.”

Lord, I just feel nothing.  No emotion, nothing.  I am so tired.  I want someone better.  I want to live.  I don’t want the daily pain of a noncommital, cheating husband.  I want to be done.  I am done.  And I know, deep down, he’s done, too.  He won’t change.  I do not matter enough to him for him to stop hurting me.  I will not tolerate it.

January 26, 2010

I’m at the end of my rope, and so is he.  Last night didn’t go so well.  He was gone all day with a photographer, scouting locations for a shoot.  It most certainly didn’t help when [my mother-in-law] came over in the midst of me being angry.  She was “checking in on me”, seeing how I was doing. I showed her the article he had written, and, again, it didn’t faze her.  I tried to explain why it upset me so much, until, finally, I erupted.

“Your son is a piece of shit!”  It felt so good to say that.

She edged forward on the couch across from me, and her eyes narrowed.
“Don’t you dare talk about my son that way.”  Her voice was cold.

“Don’t you dare come over here, uninvited, and pretend to know how I’m feeling.”  My voice got louder.  “I can say whatever I want to about my husband because he’s my husband.  I know him better than you do.”

I could feel the adrenaline pulsating through my veins as I got even more angry with her.  [My husband] finally came home, with blood on his white T-shirt.  He just stood back and observed the madness.  I threw his article at him, and told [my mother-in-law] to LEAVE MY HOUSE.  I yelled and cussed at her – obviously not good behavior – but I just can’t take her or [my father-in-law] anymore.  Leave me alone!  Things escalated and got even uglier, when she grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me up against the wall.

I did not touch her.  I moved forward, off the wall, using the threat of my body weight to make her back away.

I opened the door.  “Get out.”

She tried to slam it on me and then left, screaming, “You’re making the biggest mistake of your life!”  — and — “I’m DONE with you!”
GOOD.  BUTT OUT AND STAY OUT.

Oh, Lord, I just can’t do any of this very well.
Am I proud that I lost it and cursed at his mother?  No.
Am I right by throwing papers and his infidelity at him over and over again?  No.
Does it solve anything?  No.
Do I feel worse?  Yes.

IT MAKES ME RAGING ANGRY to think about the way he stood and watched his mother physically assault me, and then take her side.   Did she apologize to me?  Nope. I was the one who apologized to her.  My therapist AND marriage counselor asked, “WHY?”  Ha, ha.  Touche.

I can’t talk to him about it, because he will forever and always defend her – she is his mother — and whatever fucked up Oedipus complex he has with her.  The truth is that his parents are way too overinvolved. EVERYONE can see it, even the neighbors.  I can’t even talk to him about it because he matches my catastrophizing with statements such as, “I’m sick of you.”

I give it to You, God.  I give You my anger.  I am extremely angry with his parents, maybe even more so than him at this point.  I need to forgive them for the hurt they have caused me for years.  I have felt “unworthy” of them and their love for years, unworthy of their “golden, summer son” who STILL can do no wrong in their eyes.  The point is to not get angry with them, it is to accept it and move forward.

From this day forward my relationship with my in-laws must change.  That is true and necessary.  I cannot change them but I can change with Your help, Lord, and I pray that You would release me from my anger towards them.

God, forgive me.  I am ashamed at how I behaved last night, yelling and screaming.  It does no good.

I am to accept that my husband will always write about women.  He will always look at them, think about them, etc.  I thought for the first 9.2 years of our marriage that he didn’t do that.  I was wrong.  I thought he would always be faithful and always love me.  I was wrong.

I hate who I have become: the jealous, miserable, insecure wife who will never be as exciting as the lover.  I will never be as exciting as the story or the description that he writes.

While watching the rerun of the Golden Globes, one writer won Best Screenplay for “Up in the Air”.  He dedicated his win to his wife and said that, when asked how he wrote women so well, he used his wife as his inspiration.  She was his everything.  She inspired him.

My husband shakes his head, and peers at me through those identical blue eyes that his mother possesses and says, “You don’t want to understand.”

I truly do not know if we will make it. After dealing with the incident with my mother-in-law, I just want AWAY from these psychotic, fundamentalist, judging, enabling and hyper-involved people whom I can never please.  Even if I’m doing something right in their eyes, it is a temporary good.  I will never be good enough for their salty, tall and tan, blonde baby boy.  BARF.

Clearly I could go on and on but I am getting worked up again and I want today to NOT begin with anger and malice, and a cold heart.  I can’t do it any longer.

He is actually 100% right about me wanting things to be “fixed” my way.  I release that burden to you, Lord.  I can’t deal with it.  And it isn’t about MY way, it’s about YOUR way.  It will only be good and right when done YOUR way and in YOUR timing.  Not his nine months, not my “today”.

YOUR WILL BE DONE.

God, I earnestly pray for Your guidance in pursuing a separation.  This situation doesn’t work and I want to not be so crazy.  Everything has changed and I’m desperately grasping at whatever I think or thought was left of the old _______ and Leslie.  They were naïve and happy.

My heart is so heavy.  I’m shutting up now.  Help, God.  Please, please help me.  I am so lost and confused.

Please, Lord, fill me.  Be the love that I so desperately need, that my husband cannot give.  Lord, You are all I need.  I have to believe that, and trust it, even when I seek human love and approval.  Oh, Lord, I am such a fool.

January 27, 2010

Lord, I know I need to calm down.  He makes me so angry.  He criticizes me for “my rotten behavior”, yet he sits on that stupid couch all day long, doesn’t do the dishes, doesn’t deal with life.  He sits back and criticizes.  He hurts purposefully.

I DON’T WANT TO BE MARRIED TO THIS PERSON ANYMORE.

I can leave and maybe I will.  He broke the marriage.  Oh, and it’s my “rotten attitude” that is keeping it from being “fun”.  NO, it’s the fact that he is a LAZY person.

Ugh, I am overreacting.  I am impatient.  He makes me so angry; his whole “deal”. It’s nauseating.  He doesn’t want to “deal” with anything.

I want out I want out I want out

I WANT OUT!!

Oct 06 2011
2 Comments
Battling

The Prodigal Wife

Tour ended, we both came home, and immediately started fighting.

The road had been good to me, and I wanted to stay out on it.  I didn’t want to be responsible for another human being, I just wanted to continue to travel, make money, and live out of a suitcase.  I wanted to escape the pain, and being at home meant facing unemployment and a marriage that was just being held together by a piece of lint.

The New Year arrived, and I half-expected a miracle – something to ignite my husband’s desire for me again, in every capacity.   I also thought I’d magically become a “better person” – more trusting, less angry.  Less hurt.

Not so much.

I was tired of having a hard time.  I was tired of being tired of having a hard time.  I figured I was just expecting too much or trying too hard on my own.

I needed help.  I turned to God daily and poured out my heart.

I don’t want to let anger rule me anymore.  I want to forgive and trust so much.  I [also] don’t want to excuse anything.  I want my husband to become a good man…a man after You and Your will.  I want to be a woman who always seeks You…Lord, help me look beyond the painful past and rocky present.

…my patience is tested to its limit.  Obviously there is nothing I can do to change him.  Obviously me talking, feeling and seeking advice and counsel does nothing when HE isn’t doing the same.  He is not meeting me even remotely halfway and it is frustrating, sad and disheartening.  Add on top of it a completely broken heart – the only time I feel loved is when we have sex, but that is just so messed up because he is sick, sick, sick – especially sexually.

I balk at everything.  I feel like his love and affection for me is performance-based, not unconditional.  If I behave and don’t get mad or call him names, he will love me more – or remember why he loved me in the first place…WHY does he not hug me? Why do I have to ask him, prompt him and then demonstrate how it’s done?  HOW can he just walk past me, sit and stare at me when I’m crying and do NOTHING?  Whereas I totally understand my anger does not help, why does he think our marriage will be “fixed” if we never talk?  All he does is write.

It was true.  He wrote constantly.  He was attempting to become the greatest writer his chosen industry had ever seen, except that the industry wasn’t known for its writers.  In fact, it never was, and I highly doubt it ever will be.  Blame it on stereotype, if you will. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”.

Nevertheless, in an effort to support my husband and his dreams, I read his over-sexualized, egotistical stories.  Every single one of them upset me.  One of his articles was (as I interpreted) a how-to guide on picking up women.  As I read the descriptive account, it occurred to me that he had quite the experience under his belt.  Things got ugly, as I reacted out of frustration and deep hurt.  He wouldn’t apologize, because he didn’t think it was wrong.  Quite the contrary: he was attempting to communicate that picking up on women for the sole purpose of sex would lead to death.  He was upset with me for reacting, icing him out, leaving, and then having the audacity to text him about how he had hurt me.  It wasn’t fair to him.

And so, the destructive cycle continued.  I would end up apologizing for becoming upset and angry, and he would continue to do things that upset and angered me.  In retrospect, it is amazing how my husband was able to manipulate situations in his favor.  He had a house, a warm bed and a wife who still loved him and was desperate to save their marriage.  Furthermore, she worked, paid the bills, fed him, bought him beer, gave him blowjobs and slept with him – all while he exerted minimal effort.

He had his cake, and could eat it, too.

Needless to say, I became increasingly frustrated with his priorities.
Conversations with him are still along the lines of career and “pushing each other to be great”, etc.  I often wonder if that is just a male versus female thing – men feel emasculated if women are more successful, or men only feel defined by what they do instead of who they are.

One day, in yet another 120-minute marriage counseling session, my husband dropped the bomb that he needed some more time to figure out his career direction.  If his writing career didn’t explode into a raging success in nine months, he would give it all up and go back to teaching.

My diplomatic, gentle and patient marriage counselor was able to get me to agree to this idea.  I was to become “The Prodigal Wife”. 

Again, I turned to God.

I don’t know exactly what that entails.  Nine months of traveling?  Nine months of focusing solely on writing? I believe with all my heart that it is Your will for me to stay married to him.  What scares me about that is the patience that I must have.

God, what can I do besides trust You?  Lord, how do I best support him without being a doormat?  How do I encourage and uplift while staying grounded and wise?  God, the task feels daunting. I want to be cared for and not have to worry.  I want to be cherished and loved, admired, desired and respected by my husband.  I feel none of the above.

I am one with this person and I have never felt more alone.

My hope is YOU.

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