Just one year ago tomorrow I was filing the paperwork for my divorce. I had spent the month prior to filing in a state of constant fear and anxiety; simply sick at the sound of my phone's ring tone. The place I'm in today is just another shade of a year ago...and it makes me sick to my stomach to even think on it.
I have come so far, and yet feel just like I did on that day so long ago. Scared. Confused. Overwhelmed and unsure how to proceed. I recently interviewed for and got the job of my dreams. I wanted to help people, and now have the opportunity to do that on a daily basis, and at a pay rate that makes it easy to show up in more that just the flesh. I see how easily I will be able to put my heart and soul into this...and it scares me just a bit. Crisis Stabilization Worker. On-call at the moment, but it promises to be oh so much more in the near future. I am excited, and yet anxious. I should be ecstatic to have found a paying job that fits my hopes and dreams so well...and yet, I'm rather subdued about the whole affair. I know that the status of my personal life plays directly into my perception of achieving my dreams. I know that my reaction is not all that it should be, and that I seriously need to reevaluate my purpose in this life and set different priorities. Namely, I need to start looking into my eyes when they meet my reflection in the mirror...and go from there.
It has been deceptively easy to maintain the one constant in my life: truth. I say deceptively because living through the consequences of not bending on that one unfailing value wears me down physically and emotionally. Spiritually, my soul knows that the reward it works for in embracing truth is not of this world, so holding constant is easy work for the soul, but the heart that surrounds it aches with the pain of sacrifice. I've sacrificed an adopted family that I've loved no matter what they have said or done to me or the kids. We all love them so much, and have suffered when we were cut off from them. They don't seem to see or believe in that love, or want it anywhere near them, so we have to keep our distance. I'm sure that some of their animosity toward me and the kids has to do with the things Todd has told them and the things they have assumed by what he hasn't said or denied. It tears my heart to pieces to think of the moments and memories we've lost, and of those that seem to have no future. The kids are just as devastated over the opportunity for family they feel they've lost, and they struggle with hurt, anger, frustration, disappointment, disillusionment...and the lot. They are afraid to open their hearts again and be vulnerable again to rejection....and I understand that all too well, for I fear the same.
Just two days ago, Todd and I were discussing Clay & Laura's situation. I realize that I never should have gotten involved in their issues, but I also feel that I was forced into doing so. I was pushed by more than one side to communicate and spend 'girl time' with her, and it was inevitable that I get to know her and come to see her as a human being. Just the same, I never asked that Clay be so blatantly explicit in his distaste and apparent lack of desire for keeping Laura around, and that his express goal was to have sole custody of his beautiful baby boy. Unfortunately, I didn't listen to Todd's sage advice to stay away the night after Thanksgiving, and found myself right in the midst of their power struggle to get the upper hand. I can't describe it, but I felt compelled to help because I was explicitly called and asked to do so. How could I refuse to help someone in need? I didn't expect that playing a neutral party would allow myself to be put into a pivotal position of need from both parties. One claiming that violent misdeeds occurred against an innocent child, and the other not really sure what went on in the heat of such high emotional turmoil. Unfortunately for myself, I didn't consider the plight of either party's side and simply stated what I saw from my perspective. End up that Katherine was present that night and simply did the same when questioned by investigators. All of our stories were inconsistent with one another, save for Clay's and Megan's, who were almost exactly the same. Laura herself was unsure of the events, and said so. So....where does that leave us?
In the end, it seems I am the liar...and Katherine along with me. Katherine has a history of lying...so it must be taken into account. Do I have such a history? I obviously need to examine my own history to see if this is something I have a pattern of doing...
Either way, this whole situation sits unwell with Todd. He has begun to shun communication with his family, supposedly for my benefit. I have no idea how this should benefit me. I suppose if I wanted him to hate my guts, that would be the strategy to use. He went off on me the other morning, calling me a 'lying fucking bitch'...which really boosted my sense of self esteem. I asked what I'd lied about and there were no exact instance forthcoming, however, he did share that 'although I'm not positive of anything specific, I have a feeling I can't put my finger on...'. Further, I am guilty of wanting him to myself exclusively, isolating him and keeping him from all family, friends, acquaintances, extracurricular activities, etc....and this is especially strange. I remember specifically asking him if we could go up to his mom's for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I think the real reason he said no and didn't want to go is because he's aware of their distaste for me and he didn't want to force my company on them. He says he knows this hurts me, so he doesn't tell me when they actually ask him to leave me behind, instead he just contrives to do just that...without saying a word to me. It's as if he believes I can't feel their hatred of me. I don't think I'm the center of the world, or alone in feeling they can't stand me...as there are at least three other women involved with this family's men that also fall into that category. I often remember that feeling of relief that came over me when I realized that I was no longer tied to the family after my divorce. That realization improved our relationship dramatically...but now that I've crossed the line and am trying to share a life with a Mathew's boy, I am back on the chopping block.
I love this man. Knowing he withholds from me, distrusts me, and sees me as the enemy is the source of my greatest pain. He promised me when he walked back into my life that he wouldn't hold back any more; that he wouldn't break his promise to me not to run. He told me he loved me and wanted to remarry me because divorcing me had been the biggest mistake of his life. He asked if I would be upset with him if he didn't give up on convincing me to be his wife again. I said no. I wanted him to not give up. To prove that he meant what he said, and would put those words into actions that would leave no doubt as to his love for me. I believed him. I saw him at his worst, his very blackest moments of devastation and destruction to those around him. I saw his pain and need to make amends and embrace genuine love, and I opened my arms to him and cried with him. I eased his way through some of the most difficult and vulnerable moments of his life with soothing words of love and forgiveness, simply because I love him for better/worse, rich/poor, sickness/health...all those vows I took and never let go of...Why would he lie to me? Again.
Because of this, I don't want to love him. I'm terrified that he will lay waste to my heart and leave behind a shell, unable to receive love without suspicion that it will be fleeting and couldn't possibly last. I want to be free. I want to love me again. More than anyone else. I don't want to be desperate and lonely any more. I deserve better. I am more than just who I choose to be with. I need to be the one I choose to be with....more and more, and let go of what may merely be the illusion of love...and no more than the figment of my overwrought imagination...
