The Application of Theory v Reality: Relationships Tuesday, Dec 6 2011

As people, we are emotional beings. As a higher species we are also arrogant, self important sons of bitches and can screw up a good thing at a moments notice.

My personality is such that I am a ‘fixer’ and a ‘rescuer’. If something is broken and I can do something to make it work, I’m going to jump in and get my hands dirty. If there is someone that needs to be rescued, I’m the go-to. I root for the underdog, would abandon caution to save a child from being harmed, and am hell bent on resolution.

The problem is that not everyone wants to be ‘fixed’. They are happy living a secret life and they don’t want my help. One person in particular is quite scurrilous and his real friends have never seen his dark side. I really want to help this person, but don’t have the ‘head knowledge’ or foresight on where to begin. I really want to rescue him from himself.

I am hard headed. I know this. But when something is bothering someone close to me (ahem…spouse) and that person will not respond or accept help, it makes me dig in.

And this is where the problem really lives.

I know that I need a softer approach. I know that whatever the situation involves, it does not need a shiny coat of silver. I know that at a certain point, I need to back off.

The problem with theory versus reality is not a lack of empathy on my part, the problem is with the other person being intellectually dishonest and avoiding ‘having the conversation’.

It isn’t always easy but if a relationship is to survive then both parties need to apply common sense, ignore emotion and actually listen to the other person.

In theory, the other person will want to make the same type of positive moves forward.

In reality, if the other person is hiding something, the relationship is stalled and cannot move forward until they allow honesty and humility into the picture.

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A Study of Contortion: The end of Chaos Tuesday, Nov 29 2011

My marriage is in a very bad place, again.

I have a brass sculpture that my husband created in college. It was a Christmas gift last year, by default. That’s hardly a win in my book, but it beats the broken pocket watch he gave me.

I’ve always admired this piece and whenever I looked at it, I would see beautiful dancers – completely lost in the translation of dance. A beautifully crafted man entwined with two women and all of them moving in the same direction.

I have had several days to sit and ponder our current situation and invariably end up sitting across from this sculpture. The more I look at it, the more the image changes, of the dancers and of us.

But now, I see him and I see me in the brass. Only there is one of him and there are two of me in this sculpture. The former me; vibrant, audacious, alive and absolutely fearless. And, the person I am now; twisted, contorted, bending as much as possible, still extending myself, and impossibly unhappy. At the breaking point.

The me on the left was the reckless, world-be-damned-me that chased him, wanted him and I caught him and I love him.

The me on the left is the futility that remains. Grossly distorted, unhappy, but still holding on. Looking forward, waiting for him to respond, but pulling back. Still holding onto my reckless self and unable to detach myself from him.

It is now impossible for me to see any other image in this sculpture, but the thing that stands out the most is that he is running forward, not looking back, not providing any form of support or comfort.

He is dragging both of me, neither believing or caring which part of me will follow. Perhaps he already found another reckless girl and I no longer matter. Perhaps he is charging ahead with no regrets and no reason to look back. And that’s good enough for him.

It is not good enough for me. The laughter has been replaced with insults like being called a Dumbass and an Arrogant Bitch. The tears have flown. He told me that I “should find someone else” and “It could get easier with the right person”.

Following his tirade, I placed my wedding and engagement bands in a box.

I suspect that he already has found someone else.

When he is home, he remains behind closed doors. Recently he began locking the bathroom door. He changed his email password. He also started going outside for phone calls where I cannot hear – or perhaps interfere.

So many mysteries. So many questions. Zero faith.

I suspect that he is trying to destroy me both spiritually and emotionally so that I will leave and make divorce easier for him.

I tore up our wedding pictures and walked on them for two days, then tossed them into the fire. It didn’t seem to bother him that he walked on them every time he came into the room.

I think that says enough. I think that says it all.

I am going to be that reckless girl again. I am going to be free of the madness and chaos.

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