the beach and a birthday

Molly and I met at Rob and Deb's wonderful little home on the Outer Banks. Once again I had the pleasure of watching an intact marriage. They know each other so well and take care of each other with kindness and consistently, side-stepping the areas where they drive each other crazy. Their's is a good marriage and a trusting friendship - all their own.

We went to Pea Island on Sunday. It is a wild place that Molly and I have loved since she was four. "M" never felt comfortable coming here and associating with Rob and Deb's friends. My first husband's spirit lives here and besides "M" expressed often how he couldn't relate to these people. They were too simple for him. It is their simplicity I most admire.

Every week these old friends gather on one of the most beautiful beaches in America. They are craftspeople and building contractors, social workers and artists. They sit on beach chairs and watch the water - spot the porpoises and the rays' dark flashes in the waves. They read and do crossword puzzles and tell stories about their children or dogs or complain about the tourists. Everyone shares fried chicken and Pringles and Gatorade and sunscreen, and decide if the water is warm enough or the waves good enough for a small afternoon adventure. Some of them spend the day surfing long boards and coming in only for a minute for the umbrella shade and a long drink of water. A few play with their kids in the foamy edge catching tiny fish to throw to the gulls. A few women just go into the surf just to cool down, dunking their heads and climbing out of the surf after a brief float, their adventure days are behind them. They exchange recipes, or book titles, or vent about their husbands. They have been meeting on these beautiful beaches every Sunday for years.

Molly and I are occasional visitors these days. Everyone knows about our dark winter and the women shower us with kindness, the men never know what to say.

Sunday was a warm day with a soft breeze. We arrived at the beach as the tide was almost out and the waves were big enough to ride longboards and soft enough for a beach weenie to boogie board. Another visitor, a woman one month younger then me who is divorced, has two kids and retired as full colonel told me to grab her son's boogie board and come out to play. Ohmygod it was amazing. Hours and hours of just pointing the boards towards the shore and jumping on board. We laughed until we almost drowned. She would yell "Let's show them what a couple of almost 54 year old women can do." And so we did. Rushing towards the shore perched on a top of a white foamy wave looking at each othere in amazement and laughing. I got tumbled once and didn't panic. I went down the falls and learned how to compensate the board to avoid disaster next time. The white water would bubble around my head and I would think of my women friends and sisters and how much fun they would have on this gentle exhilarating jet to the beach. For two hours there was no "M", no guilt, no sorrow, no birthday. Just the same kid who would of loved this 40 years ago loving it right now. And surfing next to me was my blonde surfer person daughter, standing on the waves - triumphant. A fine afternoon.

Happy birthday Universe. Thank you for the perfect gift.

Compromise

The point of loving someone is the compromise. How to compromise without being compromised. Walking the line of letting things go without losing your spirit and your moral compass. I had adapted to the dance on eggshells pretty remarkably well with M. My weakness was fear. I feared his outbursts and his anger. So I would withhold information that I thought would anger him. Particulary about my daughter. It was cowardly, but it worked more often then not. He would get a new car to work on and would be distracted and we would be alright for awhile.

When he did get angry or frustrated I would always rally to the cause. Fight the good fight. But it wore me down.

It is easy to forget that it doesn't have to be this hard. That there is a give and take with a normal person.

Ahh... but now I'm alone. What a bargain to have made with the devil.

A miracle

yesterday was a very bad day.
After my experience on the deck the night before, I woke up distressed and overwhelmed.
The idea of M living next door to the house he shared with me for almost eleven years took on this horrifying cast. M is a troubled, angry man. He was never wrong in his anger. And he worked very hard at reminding me of how I had frustrated him and belittled him, ignored him and lied to him. It never occurred to me that frustrating, belittling, lying, or ignoring the people I loved had never been a behavior I had indulged . It never occurred to me that he was convincing me of something that was simply not true.
If we had two full days without a disagreement, or without him correcting or chiding me it felt like heaven. M would threaten me. He also drank wine with me, and made love to me, lived with me. I cooked to please him and took him coffee every morning of our life together. I bought him gifts and clothes to let him know how much he meant to me. I rushed home to be with him, emailed back and forth with him all day, spoke to him at least twice a day. We were connected in so many ways - positive and negative ways. Deeply. Or so he convinced me that we were.
And then he decided it was not worth the effort. Or that he could no longer pretend to love me. Or was it something else that caused him to leave me as he had his previous wives? I will never know what he realized. He convinced Ka that it was moral and right to desert our marriage and move 25 feet away into her house. Did they think no one would notice??

so... yesterday was a very bad day.
Chest pains and shortness of breath, and long periods of sobbing. Hopelessness and fear. Who would go with me to the Emergency Room? Who would care?
A day of feeling further and further away from life. On the periphery, no longer connected to anyone directly. Who would miss me as I am now?

A very bad day.
Chest pains. I saw my counselor and she spoke softly and with so much concern. She tried to center me and calm my breathing. Tried to help me see beyond my fear and anguish. We went to the Wednesday night service. It is the service before the Belize trip and there were lots of teenagers and families. I was lightheaded from the pain, and scarred shitless.
After communion I went to the side altar for a blessing where an elderly member of the church stood in bermuda shorts and black knee-high socks. He had difficulty with my name "glenda?" With shaking hands he annointed me with oil and spoke the brief blessing. Then he paused. The next few sentences were all ad-libbed - words from his heart. He spoke of peace and security in the lord. It was lovely and simple and full of love. I rose from my knees and my chest pain was gone.
The pain has not returned.
Gone.

Watching

Tuesday night.
A session with Sherrill and then dinner with friends. Good friends - so generous and loving and concerned without being maudlin. Just good food and wine and funny bright kids.
How lucky am I.
Brooke told me I should howl when I got home. I phoned her and threw my head back and howled. It was funny and terribly sad.

Abandoned middle-aged woman howling on her deck while her husband of ten years sits inside her neighbor's home charming his lover's niece and daughters. Shook them up enough that they challenged my howl by coming out on the deck to talk and laugh and show the crazy fucking neighbor that her howls meant nothing to them.

And indeed they mean nothing.

I sat in the dark and watched them all. It was sad. They performed. I watched. As M went inside I clapped and yelled "Bravo". And was a little ashamed. Because it is all so damn sad.

I ask over and over "how could anyone do what they are doing? What do they see or feel that makes any of this acceptable?" Doesn't the mean-ness and immorality and flat-out absurdity of trying to start a new life with a new lover in the house next door to the the spurned woman/ ex-friend effect them at all? Does it play in the back of their heads... or just like the deceit and sneaking around and lying... does it add a little titillation. Now they are bonded together in their righteousness. "She knew we were going to live here. It is her own fault if she is unhappy. We have the right to be here."

You know, I discovered when they were gone and there was no shadow of M's possible appearance for a few days, I was happy in my home. Truly happy and at peace. This is why I fought to stay. This is my sanctuary. I work in the garden and watch the birds and this is my home. All those years, it meant nothing to M.

I do not wish them ill. I have never wished them ill. I just wish them gone.

Neighbor's, strangers, have heard the story of what they did and stop me in front of the house to ask how I am and to admire the garden. It amazes me how many people I don't know know all about this situation. The neighborhood has really enjoyed the tawdry, cowardly absurdity of this story. They are horrified and disgusted with the possibility that M and Ka are considering living here. I don't have to say much. It is a study in human behavior.

A new life. That's what we all need. They have all the security and money, and each other - together they can find a lovely new life somewhere. And I will weed and dream and love my home and learn to forgive. Myself . M. Ka.

Sherrill wants me to stop wrapping myself in trying to figure out how they could have done this and find my salvation. This pain and sorrow is an opportunity. A gift. An amazing weight loss program. A beginning. If I don't die first, she said laughing.

a letter to a friend

Darling friend,

I thought of you again yesterday, as I do most days, and sent much love... then the everything hit the fan and I realized why you were so strongly in my thoughts.

After two days of pain I called the dentist and she dicovered a cracked molar that may require a root canal and a crown for a mere $2,000 or if I'm lucky just a crown for $800. After 2 hours being drilled and filled I may be lucky. The pain isn't nearly as bad today and that indicates the roots may be okay and I'll just have to get a crown.

I was to go to a gallery with some friends but opted to lay low after seeing the dentist. I even had two videos, thinking Ka (who has been away to the beach since Sunday) would still be gone for a day or two. For five days it had been wonderful here- the refuge I knew it could be. No fears, no anticipation of his presence. At 7:00 she arrived home with her friends. So
I went indoors for some peace. While watching TV a car went by, and I knew. M hid his car in her garage. And soon after they were all on the deck drinking wine and chatting. I started screaming. I stood in the dark in my room and watched silently, then went into the core of the house, curled up and screamed and cried until I couldn't do it anymore. So now they believe
it is all right to be here. They believe it is their right and their intent.

I don't understand any of this. Their cruely. Their cowardice and lying and cheating I will never understand. But moreover, my intellect understands that M is a bad man, he likes to hurt women, he repeats patterns that I was only one piece of. Our relationship was never healthy. I invested everything I had in a abusive and negative hole. Intellectually I hear that he did me a favor by leaving. That he may even find happiness with someone more like him, Ka. Then I remember my stupididties and immaturities and all I feel is unworthy and ugly and deserving of watching my husband live with his lover in the house next door to me. I remember what I thought were lovely promising times and am overwhelmed with how they must of been lies, that I am and will be alone knowing how I failed. That the years I tried to keep this marriage viable were useless and stupid. That I was selfish and childish and unlovable and unforgiveable. I told Sherrill, my counselar, that I was drowning and everything I had known to float kept sinking when I grabbed on. She asked me what did I need to survive? I didn't ask for a rescue, or a power boat, or even an inner tube. I asked to see the hint of land. Just a glimpse of the shore in the distance and I can hang on. Right now, and for the last seven months, there has been no shore. No hope.

Molly is gone. She returns next weekend to see the doctor. Her foot is still in terrible shape. I worry about her and pray for her as often as I breathe. She too is feeling lost. Our two weeks together were intense. Thank God I had a week here alone before Ka and M decided to play house next door.

Oh darling. Thanks for listening... again. If I emerge from this dark place I will be like Scrooge in the Christmas Carol - and there will never be a finer and more giving person in all of ... in all of ...wherever I live. Thank you for you help and love. Perhaps with your loving guidance, and the love of my friends, my intellect and my broken heart will come together and
find some peace.

I love you and am so grateful for your kindness,
g

A forgotten daughter

My darling daughter left today.
Off to a new life after a long dark winter.
I had asked her to take a look at my beginnings of a Blog and after she joked that it looked pretty similar to her site (http://mollotovcocktail.blogspot.com/ and that I better not copy her) she quietly mentioned that she was not mentioned in my posting... not even in my bio.
Another hurt in a long cruel time.
I'm sorry sweet girl.
Sweet Molly. Graduated from Brown with honors last year. Surfs, runs, writes beautifully. Kind, quiet and so charismatic, with a smile that literally warms a room. Never out of my mind or my heart.
How did I not mention you?
When M left me he left you. And to make sure that you knew how little he thought of you he never even acknowledged you in his impersonal goodbye note where he demanded that I sell the house, or he "would force me to sell".
Another hurt in a cruel time.
Molly, he was jealous of you. Of your light and your talent and the gifts that came naturally to you. He spent ten years trying to put out your light. Damning you. He is gone. Now we can recover.

A letter to M:

In late January, when I was most lost I made a call to Dominion Power to try to get the bills sent to my name instead of being forwarded to you. A very officious black lady answered the phone and I stumbled around trying to explain the situation and finally started to cry, it was 8:30am and it was only the fourth or fifth time that day I had dissolved into grief and despair. Once I had explained that you had abandoned me, that I was totally alone trying to figure out how I could keep my home and that I was fearful about doing anything wrong, she was very clear about what I needed to do in order to receive the bills. And then she sighed and whispered into the phone, “You have to pray every minute of every hour of every day.” There was a long silence between us before I whispered, “What do I pray for?” She didn’t pause at all to answer, “Strength. Wisdom. Courage.” She went on to tell me her story.

She was the first woman I spoke to who had gone through an abandonment. From that point I made it a habit to be honest to everyone I needed advice or assistance from. So many women had been through this hell. So many survivors, it is stunning. And everyone has advice as well as their own stories of shock, grief, irony, and ultimately coping. The coping has been elusive for me. Especially since I was betrayed by you and by Ka, whom I believed was a friend, and that you are threatening to live with her next door.

I emailed you soon after you left that I would have fought your enemies for you. I return to that statement often. That’s what I did for so many years. I fought your demons. I tried to reason with and lighten up your dark places. I begged your father for reconciliation. I demanded that Molly apologize for her slights, whether I agreed or not with your criticisms. I listened and tried to commiserate with your rants. I excluded or diminished the time we spent with people from our life that you did not approve of or had grown to dislike – Bill, Catherine and Steven, Susan W. ,Susan G., Sheila, Helene, the theatre people, etc., the list goes on

And when you threatened me physically I took the blame. You made it clear - it was my fault. I made you do it. I was too generous with Molly at your expense. I omitted telling you things, and you accused me of lying. I was defensive over another criticism of my behavior too quickly. It was always my fault; no pleading, arguing, reasoning could change your mind. I made you rise up on the balls of your feet with your hands in my face. I was responsible for pushing you too far. I had to fix it. I had to make it better. I had to be careful. And when I wasn’t careful, you had the right to make me fearful. I concealed information from you to try to avoid confrontation; I was often childish in my reasoning - scurrying to avoid your displeasure. You had the right to with-hold affection, remind me of my faults and Molly’s faults, and all the faults of all the people who you held in low regard, over and over and over, until after ten years, it became normal. Being nervous, apprehensive, worried became normal. I have to unlearn all of that now.

This is what I know. Being married successfully is about respect. It is also about forgiveness and compromise and tolerance and laughter and ease. It is about knowing the faults of your companion and working with them, around them. It is believing in the best. It’s joy of the simplest kind. It’s the complicated entwining of memories, and trust and plans and trust. Trust.

Sadly, with your history. The truth of your history. No one can afford to trust you. No one should.

I’ve had almost six months to watch other relationships. Since you left I have quietly watched the give and take between couples and have thought to myself, “ uh-oh, she’s going to be in trouble for that comment.” Or “she better not tease him like that, she will pay.” I watch the give and take and as I emerge from my fog I see that within good relationships there are no unforgivable sins. Wives are allowed to tease with affection and sometimes be bitchy or demanding. There is so much understanding and forgiveness that wives can make mistakes, have PMS, be dependent sometimes, and favor their children over their husbands. Husbands can tease back with affection, make mistakes, behave childishly. But more than that there is an equal exchange of admiration and the constant communication of small signs of affection. Wives and husbands relax with each other. Fires can be asked for and laid without it being a huge demand. Intricate drinks can be mixed and delivered with gentle thanks. It all looks easy.

Recently I also began to remember my own first marriage. How a complicated, intelligent, respected man loved me and admired me for who I was and not who he thought he could mold me into. How I grew with him and he with me. How we worked on the faults that were damaging with tenderness and compassion not anger. I remember that we struggled together; we had tough years, we got help together when we needed it. And we forgave each other. He wasn’t angry. Not at me, not at himself, not at the people who may have disappointed him. He didn’t tolerate cruelty or mean-ness, he may have tolerated my stubbornness more then he should of, but he understood what lay beneath the surface foolishness. We both knew that no hurts or slights were intentional between us, and we recognized that when times were more difficult then others special care was needed to survive them. And when it got really tough we knew that we were never going back on our word. No, it was not perfect – but it grew into a dance of love and admiration and not of power. He was not a coward or a bully. You are both.

Finally I have been remembering our marriage. Yours and mine. So many mistakes. So many misunderstandings. And anger and fear. I loved you so much – your intelligence, your curiosity, the days you were happy. I loved working with you and traveling with you. And when you were at peace I loved being with you. You were generous and loving and so focused on us while we courted. We were going to be able to do anything together. I pledged myself to the promise you made of love and a life together, come what may. You had always been the victim of selfish women and I was going to make it right. I was going to love you into a new joyful life. But when we moved in together it was clear that very little I did was quite right and it felt as though nothing my daughter did was ever right.

I spent hours and hours defending a twelve-year-old and then went on defending her for ten more years. Her walk, her manner of speech, her chewing, her work ethic, her lack of friends, her habit of leaving cups, when she ignored you, when she didn’t ignore you, her tone, her eating habits, her humor, her expectations, her dress, her moods, her topics of conversation, her dreams. None of these were ever right. According to you she was selfish, and self-centered, lazy and disrespectful. When she excelled she didn’t deserve it, nor did she appreciate your contribution to her success. She ignored you and you went ballistic, which made her even more distant and wary and you angrier and less forgiving. So there I was - stuck in the middle trying to appease you both, explain one to the other, defend one to the other, stand up for one to the other, loving you both and torn apart almost daily by how neither of you could compromise, forgive or simply laugh at the situation. Sometimes I avoided telling you information about her, trying to avoid yet another confrontation. Never a good or brave choice -a survivor’s instinct perhaps, but I do not excuse myself this stupidity. Sometimes I would listen to your rants and try to explain her to you, sometimes I would have heard enough and stood toe-to-toe to you. She thinks I did nothing to defend her from you. She only remembers me forcing her to apologize. Forcing her to look you in the eye. She thinks I was a coward. You thought I supported her “selfish” behavior. You thought I was blind to her faults. There was no way I could win.

The last year and a half you returned more and more often to your favorite weapon: Intimidation. I know now how fond you are of this by talking to your ex-wives. How you twisted those stories. You were not the victim. You took your anger and depression and frustration out on those women just as you did on me. And when you became bored you seduced someone else while you were still married and promised the new woman a wonderful life with you. Once your new life was secured you turned your back on the woman still clutching to the promise of your old life. You always get set up first, and then you use your size and your anger to frighten the woman you no longer want. You rise up on the balls of your feet and clench your fists. You choked your first two wives, knocked them down slammed them against walls. I was lucky. You only bruised me and shook me and terrorized me awake with a fist slammed next to my head. You only hit me once and the bruises lasted for weeks. You only screamed at me to stop editing you when I asked you to stop. You would only rise up over me and tell me what you were liable to do if I didn’t shut-up.

I was lucky.

You threaten and then you tell each of us over and over how we made you do it. We forced you into a corner and you had no choice. It was our fault and when would we ever learn. We didn’t respect you, and you had no choice. And then you were done with the marriages you lied to each of us. How much of our life together was a lie? You have repeated these patterns with all of us – your first wife, the woman from your office that you left Missy for and who broke up with you after four months, your second wife. Me – your third wife, and now Ka. I imagine you have been working on Ka to marry you right away, just like you worked on me, just like you worked on your second wife. You have charmed her and told her stories and worked on her beach house, and poured her wine and told her that she is the woman you have been waiting for, just like your second wife and me. You are romantic and attentive and she is the one, finally. Just as I was. And you have told her what a victim you have always been. You and Ka have gotten right into counseling, just like you did with me and your second wife. Telling the stories of familial abuse and how you were not respected and how you tried to survive in a dysfunctional relationship. And Ka has bought into it. Just like I did. Does she believe that she is the one who will love you and help repair you? That is what I believed, with all my heart. The bonus here is that she was already married to an angry man. She knows how to disappear when her husband gets agitated. How to agree and mollify. She will be the one most like your mother. And you can finally be just like your father, but smarter. A smarter bully. She never had a chance. She was still in shock from just being widowed and panicked at the idea of a life alone. You were on her in the fall working on her, convincing her of your fiction that you and I both knew our marriage was over, helping her “recover” from her loss. The move from our life together into your life with her was going to be seamless. You have perfected this, and widows are the prime target - widows with money and property. Just like me, but this time without the inconvenience of a child.

And I loved you. I truly loved you. I saw your hurt and your confusion and wanted so much to make it better. I made a promise to you and I never abandoned it. Everyday, if it went well I would say to myself, “This is the day. We will get it right. He will love me and love our life, and celebrate with me.” And then I would say something, or Molly would look at you funny, or someone at work would tease you and you would start getting angry. The pattern would start all over again. Hours in front of the same computer game, night after night, year after year, glass after glass of wine or port – you would self-medicate any way you could to escape your unhappiness and frustration. Sometimes I could help you. But more often then not you didn’t really want my help, or my love and my touch became annoying and my kisses became repulsive. Occasionally, I would see a glimpse of the man who courted me and I would think. “Today. Today will the first day of his real joy. Our real happiness.” It was always an illusion. I loved our good days together. I loved taking care of you, cooking for you, creating our home together, drinking in the paintings at the National Gallery, enjoying our friends, hearing you say “We like us.” Is it possible that was only last fall, or was that joy just another lie?

Rest assured that I am not blameless or free of my own demons. I am struggling with my complicity, cowardice and guilt and overwhelming sadness over this loss. At times in our marriage I behaved stubbornly or obsessively or childishly or all three. Those times haunt me. Nevertheless, I truly loved you M. I wrestle everyday with letting that love go. Despite so many difficulties and mistakes, despite my fear and apprehension of making you angry, I made a promise to love and care for you and I built my life around that promise. I am sick at some of the choices I made over the years within our relationship. I cringe at the memory of my begging to be told that you loved me. Yet, I never stopped believing in us. We could of compromised. We could of gotten help. But after our initial counseling you refused to go back, and I began living with you as a fearful woman, not as the woman I was eleven years ago. Not the woman I am try to be again.

You have taught me many things. You betrayed everyone you said you loved – your friends, your wives - you abandoned us all. Now I only ask that you go with God. Be gone from our lives, please. May God bless you and keep you. May we forgive each other. May we both find our peace. May you understand that you were truly loved. And may you never be allowed to lie to, terrorize and abandon another woman. And I will continue to pray - for courage, strength and wisdom - for both of us.

Friday the thirteenth.
An auspicious date to start this, my first entry in this blog-universe.
If you have read my bio to the right you already know that this is a exorcism of sorts.

It has been seven months since “M” abandoned our home. It was the next day that I asked my neighbor "Ka" to come over so I could tell her what had happened. She stood in my kitchen as I sobbed until I choked, continually shaking her head in astonishment repeating how shocked she was that "M" had left . One month later I discovered that since the death of her husband in July 2006 "Ka" had been cheating with my husband and assisted him in constructing his lies and betrayal while pretending to be my friend. I had fed her and her husband while he was ill, drank wine on their deck pretending to be jolly to cheer them both, helped arrange the funeral for her husband. I provided her with a beautiful framed photograph of her husband that she carried in her arms down the church aisle thanking all of us who supported her. I believe it was the night of the funeral that my husband began planning how he would manipulate the widow “Ka”. She was a widow who owns property. After all, I was a widow with property when we met. This is something he is very good at.

It’s been three months since I contacted his two ex-wives and discovered that “M” had physically and emotionally abused them both. Even arrested once for his abuse. Yes. He was physically abusive to me as well. It's been two months since I warned “Ka” and gave her their phone numbers, gave her the letter “M” wrote confessing that he had been physically violent to me, as well as the photos I had taken years ago of the bruises on my arms and breast that he had left. She called early the next morning to say that she was “breaking up” with “M” that evening. It was over. Now, a month and a half later, she is back with him, spending the night at his apartment. Just four miles away, all in the same damn zipcode.

And as he warned me over and over in the early emails after his abandonment “I WILL be living next door. Can you handle that?"

That is indeed the question. Can I handle it?

What a strange place to be. Surreal and painful. How did I get here?

Worthy of a good exorcism.