Willing to Lose

They say you can't steal second, with your foot on first, and of course, they are right.  But lately I have been wondering if one can do anything without risking something.  Just think about it for a moment.  When you walk, what must you do to go forward?  That's right, you have to get off balance and then you have to fall.  If you are never off balance, you will only shuffle along, and unless you are dancing, who wants to shuffle?

For the past 10 months, I have been working at making some major changes in my life.  At first, it was a sorting process.  Deciding what to keep and what to let go of.  Then it became a question of, what do I really want?  What is worth fighting for and what is not?  But answering those questions was not enough.

I finally had to face the crux.  What is most important?  If I only accomplish one thing in this life, what do I want it to be?  And then, I made the hardest decision of my life.  I chose my children over my marriage.

Growing up, all through college and for the first dozen years of my marriage, I swore I would never be one of those women who put her children above her husband.  But when I looked at what was most important in life, I saw that the well being of these little people who depended on me mattered more than anything else I could do.  The men they grew to be was more important my happiness.

It was in March when I realized this.  And it took me about another month to decide I was willing to move forward.  A month of wondering, 'If I do what I think is best, will I destroy my marriage?'

I had spent 12 years doing my best to follow my husband's leading, but it had left me more lost than ever.  It had left him lost too.  One evening in April, he came to me and said, "I've been married to you for a dozen years, and what do I have to show for it?  Our lives are a mess.  Our children are a mess.  Our home is a mess.  What are we doing?  We can't go on like this."

It was then I realized that if I didn't do something, my marriage and my children would be lost.  So I stepped out.  Not in a bad way, but in a bold way.  I told him up front that I was going to do things my way and that I did not want his input, furthermore, I was going to revert to the ideals I had at 17--at least back then I knew what I wanted out of life!

He, of course, wasn't too sure about all of this.  We had met when I was 17, and was a bit of a wild child--for his taste.  But I did my best to recall that girl I use to be, and to move on with the knowledge I had once had of child raising and being small.

The next month was one of the best months I had ever had.  I accomplished things without criticism.  I interacted with my children the way I had longed to for years.  My confidence grew with each string I tied with my children.  I felt like our home was finally going to be the happy place I longed for it to be.  Procrastination and fear were ever present--they had been my companions for year, and old habits are hard to shake--but things were improving. 

Then, shortly after our thirteenth anniversary, in May, it all came crashing down.  I made the mistake of telling my husband how happy I was.  His response?  "I've been biting my tongue for a month, and you're finally happy?"

Ouch.

It wasn't meant to be an insult.  Just a progress report.  The fight went from bad to worse, until I felt like the most worthless human being on the face of this planet. 

That night, I talked to a friend online.  He is older and divorced.  He kept insisting, "You don't love your husband.  I know what you are going through.  I was in the same place you are when I was your age."

I kept insisting that he was wrong, that I did love my husband.  I didn't know what else to do.  My marriage was (and is) the most important relationship in my life, but I also knew I was willing to give it up for the sake of my children, if that is what it took to grow them into productive adults.  I had to wonder if he was right...

This song, Same Old Lang Syne, made me wonder more...

"She would have liked to say she loved the man, but she didn't like to lie."

 It really weighed on me.  Was I just fooling myself, when I said I loved him?  Was it simply habit or sentiment that made me think that way?

After our fight, he went back to biting his tongue and I went on with my scheme, wondering if we were going to make it or not.  After a couple more months, I had a very vivid day dream that put everything in perspective for me.

It was of our family on a mountain road, heading for Pinedale.  My husband was running ahead, exploring every side trail.  I was following along, herding the children along the path.  Every now and then, my husband would reappear, to tell me of things that were ahead.  He would make all kinds of suggestions of 'fun things' I could do with the kids... but doing them was never fun.
There were lots of bad attitudes amongst the children, and my attitude was one of drudgery.  I don't mind mountain trails, with my love, but I do mind walking them alone, or worse yet, with five grumpy children.  I hated setting up camp every evening, knowing that it would just be torn down the next morning, just to do the same thing over again.  I kept thinking of the vehicle parked at the trail head, and my well marked map showing the route to Pinedale.
Finally, enough was enough.  I told hubby, "You have fun taking this route, and don't worry about us.  We'll meet you there."  Then I left him the supplies he would need and took the children back to the vehicle.  I pulled out my map and made my plans, then took off driving.   Traveling a road I was confident in.

I knew my husband and I had the same goals a dreams when we got married, but somehow we had gotten terribly off track.  He said I was impossible to lead.  I said he was impossible to follow.  Traveling the way each of us knew best made sense to me.  So we may not always be together?  It wasn't like we were together before.  And his concern for the children was as great as mine.

The question of love still bothered me though.  So what if we could give our children a great life, if we really didn't love each other?

As I was contemplating this, a song from Fiddler on the Roof came to mind:



Tevye asks his wife if she loves him.  She answers very practically.

"Do I love you?
For twenty-five years I've washed your clothes
Cooked your meals, cleaned your house
Given you children, milked the cow
After twenty-five years, why talk about love right now?
. . .
Do I love him?
For twenty-five years I've lived with him
Fought him, starved with him
Twenty-five years my bed is his
If that's not love, what is?"

I realized that arranged marriages did and do work, because there was a commitment to treat the other person right.  And I knew my husband and I had that commitment.   

Maybe we weren't in love.  Maybe things weren't perfect.  It didn't mean we couldn't make the most of what we had.  It had been several months since our fight that left me feeling worthless, and in that time I had been able to observe that though we had problems, we had good things too.  I decided right then and there to make the good things great, make the mediocre things good and ignore the rest for as long as possible.  So what if we couldn't carry on a normal conversation.  Is talking really that important?

And you know what?  It made a difference.  As I worked to make the good things great, he fell more and more in love with me.   His feelings changed, and with it, his outlook.

With every step I have accomplished in remodeling the kitchen, he has realized how little he understood me.  Even with pictures torn form magazines, drawings and dimensional plans, he hadn't caught the vision.  What I have produced (which is exactly what I wanted) was not at all what he had envisioned.  Furthermore, he loves what I am doing.  For months, before I began, he did his best to convince me that I would hate the finished product and tried to talk me into giving the idea up.  Now he is glad I didn't.

Things are not perfect, and they never will be, but as of now, I'm standing on second.  I had to let go of first in order to gain it.  For a while, I thought I might lose it all, but with this gain, I have realized that doing nothing is like planning to lose.  You can't win a game while playing it safe.  With every move you make, you have to be willing to give up stability in order to move forward.  And falling doesn't mean failing.  Sometimes, it is just motion.  When I clung to my marriage with everything I had, I almost destroyed it.  When I let go and let be, things came together.

~*~*~*~*~*~

As I was writing this up, hubby came to tell me goodnight.  He said, "I love you.  I am so glad you are getting the confidence you need."

And you know what?  Those weren't empty words.  And I love him too.

Change is Good

Says it feels right this time,
Turned it 'round and found the right line.  --No Leaf Clover

Sometimes, finding the right words to describe something changes everything.  Understanding.

This happened to me recently.  I found a way to describe my behavior in certain relationships--ones that were not going well--that made everything clear to me.  It also instantly gave me the tools I needed to make those relationships what I wanted them to be... Or rather to see that they were already what I wanted them to be.

What were those magical words?  For me, they were, "You're relating like a roger."
...and I am a clark.

I know.  That doesn't make a lot of sense does it?  A month or so ago, it wouldn't have made any sense to me either, but God brought some people into my life who have created a personality system known as the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers).

I didn't pay any attention the first time I saw it, so God brought it to me a second time, through another route.  He is good.  His ways are mysterious, and He will use anyone or anything to teach us what we need to know.

What those words told me is this:

• I was approaching the relationships emotionally, not practically. 
• I was seeking rules to make them work, instead of going with the flow.  

You see, rogers are herd creatures, but a herd of two does not work.
Being a farm-girl, I have seen this first hand, many times.  One must have at least three horses to have a herd.  Two horses fight--constantly.  It may be very subtly, but there is always tension.  Plus, two horses can not handle there being any distance between them.  They will be grazing side by side, and one will begin to wander away.  The other horse will run to catch up as soon as they notice the distance.  Three or more horses, on the other hand, will graze over a wide area, content to be part of the group.

While it is comical to watch, it is not fun to be a part of.  If you listen to people, rogers are the ones who will talk of their 'circle of friends' and assume that everyone has a 'circle'.

I don't have 'circles'.  I have friends.  Some of my friends know each other.  Some of my friends like each other.  We still don't have a circle.  Neither do we have a pack--that would be scotts.

So, when I approached the friendship like a roger, I acted like a horse (or maybe a jack-ass).  I couldn't stand for there to be any distance, since there was only two of us in my little 'herd'.   I fought to keep up and always be in alignment (agreement) with the other person.

Eww.  Yuck.  I'd have trouble with me too.

And to make matters worse, I had three different friendships/relationships I was approaching this way...
Once I realized what I was doing, I was able to step back and see how my behavior was causing most of the problems I have been striving to solve for the better part of a year.
The problem (the distance I felt) was not in the relationships, but in me.  Things are just fine--in fact some relationships are better than I ever imagined they could be, but I needed a dose of reality to see that.

I am at peace.  The first leg of my journey has been completed.   

Waiting, Weighting, Waiting...

I have spent two hours so far today, not writing this post.  Waiting.

Waiting for the perfect words.
Waiting for the perfect thoughts.
Waiting to feel just right about it all.
Waiting, waiting, waiting...

But the waiting must end.  It is time to move. To do. To be.

A few weeks ago I realized that patience in me was not a virtue.  It was a vice.  It was a way of avoiding all the things I am unsure of.  It was a way of not making decisions.  For example, I wouldn't throw out catalogs, because they might have something in them that someone in my family might want.  They pile up on the counter.  They clutter surfaces, because I am waiting.  Waiting, to make sure everyone has their chance to look.  To want... but I know deep down I will not be ordering anything.  No one needs anything those catalogs have to offer.  No one wants anything from them.  But I am waiting!

And waiting has lead to weight gain.

I am an active person and I eat healthy.  My weight had never been an issue, so, when with working out and regular exercise, I began gaining inches around the waist, I was concerned.  I looked for physical reasons, but found none.  Still, my waist increased.  In a matter of weeks, I gained three inches. Three inches is bad anytime, but it is especially bad when half of the exercises you are doing are aimed at reducing the waist line!

Knowing that the acne I fight with constantly is a result of not speaking my mind, I sought a non-physical reason for the weight gain.  It took a few days of working through different ideas, before the right one hit, but it fit:  Waiting had resulted in 'weighting'.

When the thought hit, I immediately knew it was right.  I am guilty of always waiting.  Waiting for the laundry to be done.  Waiting for the oven to pre-heat.  Waiting for the kids to do their school work.  Waiting for someone to write me back.  Waiting for a phone call.  Waiting for the sun to shine.  Waiting for the next song on the radio.

It doesn't seem to matter what it is, I can wait for it.  And while I wait, I procrastinate.  I do nothing of importance.  It has disturbed me for sometime, and I have taken steps in the past to cut down on the time I will wait.

I use to always wait for the next big thing.  Things that were months away, but when I did that, I always had lists of things I wanted to accomplish before that big thing came, so I was busy.  My mind may have been far away, but my hands were active.  There was lots to accomplish before that big thing could really be enjoyed. 

In the mean time, I enjoyed nothing.  And I hated anything that was not planned.

My whole life revolved around some future point in time.  A time that may never come.  I told myself, "No more of this!  Live in the now!"  And it has been my goal, for more than a year, to live in the now.  It is something I have practiced day in and day out.  It has not been easy, and my body tells me I have not been successful.

Before, I was honest with myself about what I was doing.  Now, my body reveals that I have been lying to myself.  I had turned 'living in the moment' into a method of waiting for every little thing.  In so doing, I had lost sight of the big picture.  I had no long term goal or purpose.  A check list made no sense, as accomplishing it was always dependent on circumstances.  I saw each and every item as a something to wait for.

This needs to change, and I have decided to face it head on.  When I find myself waiting, identify what I am waiting for, then either do it or do something else that needs to be done, if it is something that I cannot control, like hearing back from someone.

I have only been at this for a few days, and, as you can see from my opening line, am still struggling to make the needed progress.  Recognizing when I am waiting is the biggest issue, then, deciding not to procrastinate.  It may not seem like much, but in the few days I have been practicing this my waist line had receded one inch.

If you have any tips, I would love to hear them!

Open Hands, Open Heart

How do you forgive, when the hurt is so deep?

Maybe it is silly to be upset by some of the things I am upset about.  Maybe it is foolish, but it seems that every time I trust again, I get hurt again.  I feel so alone in this family.  I feel that my husband only wants 'forgiven' so that I won't bring up the past, thereby, allowing him to do the same things again.

Maybe I am just holding a grudge.
A grudge that shuts people and things out of my life.
Maybe it is because I feel torn apart each and every time certain subjects come up...

But it is not the things that happened that hurt.
I could easily forgive them.
Forgive them and move on.
It is the thing they represent that hurts.
It is the lack of respect they demonstrate that I fear facing again.

It seems that if one doesn't constantly stand up for themselves, they get ran over.  Again and again and again.

I am tired of being yelled at because 'my ideas' didn't work out, when my ideas were never listened to.  When what was done was his interpretation of 'my ideas'.  My ideas were hardly touched.  My ideas were ignored.  And the few times that carrying out my ideas was attempted, it was in an half-ass manner.  One that showed complete disrespect for the finished project, with the excuse always being, "I don't have time!"

Fine.  You don't have time.  Then don't start the project!  Leave things as they are, unless you are going to go to the effort of doing them right!!!  I can't handle half-ass attempts that simply create more work.  There is no need for them, and they are helpful to no one.

Maybe I am unloving... After all, I Corinthians 13 says:

"⁴ Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; ⁵ does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; ⁶ does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; ⁷ bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
⁸ Love never fails."

And maybe all I am doing is seeking my own... Or, as my husband accuses, thinking evil.  But maybe, just maybe, I am facing the truth.

Can one point to the truth, without 'thinking evil', especially when the truth is not pleasant?  Can one correct hurts, while bearing all things, believing all things and hoping all things?  Or is the desire to change the hurtful patterns in our marriage unloving?  A lack of enduring all things?

I love that man.  I love him more than I have ever loved anyone.  If I didn't, then the things he does and says wouldn't hurt so much.  I could brush them off.  Ignore them.  Forget them.  Pretend they never happened.  But I want a better life with him.  He means too much to me to continue the way we have been going.

Tell me, what is more loving:  When you find yourself on the wrong road, to keep going or to backtrack?  To continue, hoping against hope that you will end up in a desirable place or correct the course, so that you know you are heading the way you want to go?

I know.  You only have my side of the story, and it is unlikely you will ever get his.  He's not too likely to write about things like this.

"The first one to plead his cause seems right,
Until his neighbor comes and examines him."  -Proverbs 18:17