Take me home, country roads
I took this picture during our recent trip to Boston. There is nothing like New England in the fall.
I look at this picture and remember, Bear in the backseat and me driving the smooth roads. Pointing out maples and oaks and elms.
"It's pretty colors" Bear said.
"Yes, the leaves are gorgeous. I am so glad you and I are sharing this."
And he responded, in a little voice, "I miss Daddy." And my heart skipped a beat.
We've taught him this. That family is the three of us. And for as long as we live now, anything less will feel incomplete.
Last night, in the deep chasms of silence between CD and I on the phone, I felt like screaming. Screaming that we have to work this out. Have to. Because we are a family.
But I don't get to make decisions for CD. I don't get to direct his heart.
In the world where I grew up, my family was related or connected to everyone else. You know, my father and your father went to school together. My grandmother's sister was your aunt's best friend. My son, on visits out East, plays with a boy - and they represent the 4th generation of our families to befriend each other.
So you can imagine. In such a cloistered world. You keep what is private, private. Divorces would seemingly come out of nowhere, because "Gee? The Andersons? Really? Why, they were just at the Smith's Bridge party last weekend and weren't they laughing up a storm?"
Where I come from, you could accidentally amputate your leg at the knee and you'd STILL finish the round of cards before asking, ever so politely, for someone to please fetch an old dish towel before you bled out on the antique Persian rug? Stiff upper lip, old bean.
So I imagine the fact that I have brought the problems between CD and I into the open would unilaterally horrify everyone I know East of Niagra.
But it has helped, so much, not to try and play "happy shiny people" more than I have to. To be able to say that when Bear crawled into bed with me this morning and said, in his little voice, "I miss daddy" ... I cried. His sweaty hair and stuffy nose close to my chest. I held him tight and we burrowed under the down comforter.
And I told him (but meaning it in a different way....)"Me, too, honey. Me too."
Posted by: Elizabeth at
04:52 AM
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1
To read what you've written over the past few days has really let me know that I'm not the only one going through marital discord, and that has really done wonders for my soul. So, I hope it makes you feel better to know that by sharing that which so many others would keep private, you're doing someone out there a world of good.
May we both find our way - and soon!
Posted by: Monica C. at November 19, 2004 07:21 AM (8Ff77)
2
I found your site just recently, when someone linked your birthday post to their blog. Even then, I already wanted to post a comment. We are both thirty-something Christians who have had our share of pregnancy problems, so I felt that I could already relate to you, but I decided to just "lurk", for some reason.
Today, when I returned to find even more traces of synchronicity between us, I am finally emboldened to speak up. Is it a sign from the Lord that my latest blog was about my husband, who also happened to be around the New England area the last few days? I also have a four-year-old son, Lance (oops...I forgot he turned 5 last November 12), whom his two-year-old brother, Troy, calls "doody-head" when Mom isn't within earshot.
Anyway, I think it's high time I made my presence felt. My name is Renee, I'm a 36-year-old former news anchor who now spends her days at home with her three kids (my youngest, Reanna is six months old), while Dad brings home the bacon. I would like to invite you to my two websites, The Prada Mama Chronicles, which is the link I left in this comment, and 87 Gentle Street (http://87gentlestreet.pansitan.net).
I would like you to know that I am praying for you. Having gone through divorce once (It's a second marriage for both me and my husband, Lorenzo), I know what you're going through. Believe me when I tell you that this, too, shall pass. Hang in there.
And keep writing. It's good catharsis.
Posted by: Renee at November 19, 2004 10:52 AM (1z6ga)
3
Sooner or later, we all have to break down the restraints of "we don't talk about things like this where I'm from" and let the monsters out. It's cathartic. It's healing. And above all, it helps us determine what it is we actually need, what it is that actually is hurting us.
If I can give any advice-and I generally suck at advice-avoid alcohol. Watch chick flick movies like "Sweet Home Alabama" and comedies like "School of Rock". Nothing deep. Nothing penetrative.
Just hold your bear and know that you can fall and I will be one of those around to try to catch you. It may not be enough. But it is something.
-Helen
VP of MAS
Posted by: Helen at November 19, 2004 08:24 PM (AeGVs)
4
Marital strife is draining enough, without wasting all your remaining energy on pretenses. When you're that beat up and confused, it's hard to figure out what the truth really is, even without muddling things with shiny, happy falsehoods. In my opinion, it's also healthier for everyone (including the children) to admit that life is hard, people do have problems, and sometimes you don't know how to fix them. At least it's honest, and there is a lot of reassurance in that. I hope you can work things out. You are an amazing, strong, interesting, funny, passionate woman, and CD would be a fool to give you up.
Posted by: notdonnareed at November 20, 2004 05:31 AM (bHNZD)
5
I came here through your comment to Geeky Mom...
God, do I feel for you. Been there. It sucks crap, no two ways about it. Hang in there...I promise it does get better.
Posted by: Psycho Kitty at November 20, 2004 06:05 PM (lRZ1W)
6
Even though it might not feel like it all the time, learning to draw lines in the sand (and then actually sticking to them once they're drawn) is absolutely necessary for your own emotional health.
I remember sobbing my guts out in the shower so I wouldn't let the kids in on the tensions between their father and me (using up all the hot water in the process, heh.) Feeling like it was my fault because I couldn't endure what our marriage had devolved into. And when an emotional scene finally catapulted me into drawing that first line, I was convinced that I'd gone too far.
I was wrong. Not drawing the lines way back when - or knowing that we both ought to be fighting to get things back to where they were rather than accepting the current state as 'just the way things evolve over time' - THAT was the mistake.
And even though my line drawing pushed him further away and out the door, it was the right thing to do. The healthy thing for me, the right thing for him, and ultimately for my children as well (although they don't always feel that way, of course.)
Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like a bitch, though. You have my empathy and my support...
Posted by: Betsy at November 21, 2004 05:00 AM (chwcp)
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