When I was little I was smack dab in the middle of boys. Of course I don’t blame mom and dad for this breech in fairness but there it was. All growing up, I would either be battling with Joshua, caleb or jon. Reality was, I would rarely win, until I pulled the “only girl” card…which worked perfectly with dad. Often in our little tiffs when we were caught the “Blame Game” would begin. I was, of course, always innocent and he was the terrible person. Mom would finally send us to the couch where we were forced to hold hands and sit there until we were willing to apologize and make up. Our grips on each others hand would sometimes become more and more firm, trying to squeeze and weaken the other to tears. But then, something strange would happen, we would start to giggle. Then laugh out loud until we were past our anger and would make up and become best friends yet again. Mom was brilliant.
How I wish such a time out could happen on the couch for me at this time. Right now, I am in a deep and real battle with someone who held my heart a year and half ago. Sadly we are not even at the point of sitting on the couch holding hands, nor do I think we ever will. Nor do I think that such an action could fix or mend what has happened or occurred.
I do remember one day when mom had us sit on the couch and caleb started to cry. Why? Because in this case, he was innocent. I was the aggressor and had pushed him to get angry and then sat back and watched him get in trouble. I promise I was not some devil child, but the reality was…I felt justified and needed to blame someone…and the only one in the room was my poor little brother Caleb. This time we sat for a long time. My anger at being caught caused me to not care of my little brother sitting next to me, sad that mom was angry at him for doing something that he sincerely did NOT do. finally I glanced over at him and felt that warm and sick feeling in my heart and stomach, that I had done something wrong. And not just wrong, but mean. And the only one that could fix it was, me. There was only two in the room…caleb and I. Truth had to come out. It was a hard step for me but I remember sharing with mom what “really” happened and mom had me hug caleb and apologize and caleb left as I had a talk with mom.
Sometimes its so empowering to have truth on your side but more often than not…it can be quite painful. Especially when you know that many would rather have the juicy details that cause a gasp or pity or anger than the basic and sad truth. The hardest part of marriage and even more so divorce is that there are only two people involved, and yet so many take claim on what “really” happened and flippantly share the character of both or one side. Yes parents, friends and others can hear bits and pieces and even a therapist can hear the “entire” story and still truth can be hidden in the heart of the one who knows realistically the reason for such choices. And more often than not, there are two stories. Two sides. Two feelings hurt and struggling to understand why they are on the couch in time out. Embarrassingly as I have felt a piece of what Caleb felt years ago as I sit wracking my brain to understand the outcome of my marriage, I realize how often I have been that person who seeks for the juicy details or shares a flippant comment of someone, not even realizing what that does to someone’s heart.
The past few weeks I have come home to face such demons. Funny as it sounds, I am shocked every time I hear another rumor or dig at my marriage or my level of sanity. Perhaps it is my ego, which those close to me, know I have. Not gonna lie, this last year and a half has definitely helped in the ego department but I seem to still have that prideful and real part of me that hates being talked about…especially something so very painful and real as my marriage and divorce. And perhaps its because of my desire to turn a blind eye to this entire mess and snap my fingers like Mary Poppin’s and my life is tidy and put back together. And perhaps sometimes, I hear such things and seriously doubt myself and my thinking. The cycle begins…am I crazy? Do I ruin people? can a person have a life-time of good and then suddenly…poof…their nuts? And ending with perhaps, I deserved what happened…perhaps this is the truth.
I looked up the work Crazy in the dictionary this morning and here are some definitions that I found;
a. A mentally deranged person
b. Informal Insane
c. Intensely involved or preoccupied
d. Foolish or Impractical
e. fantastic; Strange; Ridiculous
f. Slang for very Good or Excellent
hmmmm…Option A? Nope…at least not yet…lets wait until im 89 yrs old and then check back in. Option B? perhaps after this divorce…border line. Option C? Yes and Sometimes…Especially when trying to multi-task. Option D? hmmm Nope. Bless my parents for this but the OCD/Type A in me wouldn’t allow it. Option E? Yes. Sadly Yes. and Yes. Option F? TBA although I know my heart is def. good…whether excellent is the word I use for myself…not likely.
So there is a nice dose of truth. Take it or leave it. Its time to blast what demons I can and leave the rest to the Lord, who has taken care of me in ways I never dreamed possible. I do believe while I sit on the couch with my hand waiting for the other…the Lord takes a seat and quietly holds on. I will stop trying to squeeze his hand and trust that he knows how to make all things right. Even if truth sits in my aching heart, and tears begin to fall…We can do this.
Have a good one. Love…me.