11.21.2005
The Splitsville 411
Last toke: 117 days
Last smoke: 110 days
My very strange day on Friday got a whole lot more interesting after I got home.
One small detail that I forgot to mention about my day was that I had a couple of cologne samples from Kaufmann's-soon-to-be-Macy's in my shopping bag. As the come hither aroma wafted up into my nostrils during the ride home, I was suddenly insprired to have a little fun with my situation. D loves cologne. I really don't. It makes me nauseous most of the time, but I will wear it on special occasions. This out of consideration for my now fleeing wife. Now I had a new consideration. I was going to dab on some when I got home, dress as if I was going out, and wait for a reaction.
However, D was so fixated on her flight preparations that she didn't notice anything. Moreover, her unattended brats were bouncing off the walls. Being a Friday night, I decided that I didn't need to stick around and endure this shit. So I put on my coat and went out, having no idea where I was going or what I was going to do.
My first thought was that I would just go to a movie. I'm really interested in seeing Walk The Line, as I'm fascinated by the whole redemption story of Johnny Cash. It's one of those few stories that makes me think that there's hope for me. But there was not a showing until 10:35, and I'm just not a late night guy anymore. So I went to a bar/restaurant across the river where I hoped I might find someone I knew or could get to know easily -- just to have some human contact in the face of my impending abandonment. I was not disappointed, as a woman I graduated with and her older brother walked in and sat next to me about 15 minutes after I arrived. We had a nice little conversation, and the brother and I commiserated in our separate tales of woe with the opposite sex.
I half expected a phone call from D, who had surely noticed my unusual disappearance from my haven of domestic bliss. I wasn't totally surprised not to get one, however, as D is just as likely to stew and fret in resentful silence as she is to speak up about her feelings. Actually, that's pretty much the status quo.So when I came home a couple hours later, I was unsurprised to find the porch light I had left on turned off and the front door deadbolted. Laughing at the pathetic futility of the gesture, I headed around back, where I can't be locked out -- hoping she had turned on the alarm so I could let it go off and launch her leaving ass into the ceiling. No such luck, but the best was yet to come.
As I hung my coat in the front foyer and headed up the steps, I was greeted by D with a puzzled look on her face.
"What are you doing?", she asked.
"Coming home. I was out", I replied, instantly realizing that she had not known that I was out. She thought I had just gone to my bedroom early and was completely complacent in her belief that that was the best response I was capable of in response to her nonsense.
"Oh, really?", she said.
"Yeah, I figured it's Friday night. Why sit around and watch you pack when I could go out and do something for a change."
"Lucky for you", she retorted.
"I wouldn't say lucky. Just free."
And with that I went to my room and got ready for bed.
About 20 minutes later, I'm disturbed by muffled, unusual sounds. I can't tell if it's her kids goofing around with the dog, or her diddling herself in the next room, or... something else.
So I get up to investigate, and... it's something else.
D is sitting on the floor in her 'office', the one that used to be my office until I gave it to her so she could have 'her own space'. She's holding her head in her hands, rocking back and forth, and sobbing. Now I'm feeling kinda bad, since it's obvious to me that I'm dealing with more than just a willfully ignorant, self-deceived apostate. This woman is genuinely unstable.
I ask her what's wrong. She's says it's just her imagination running away with her, and she's just being stupid.
"No Shit!", I want to say, but don't. How fucking ridiculous to have this kind of reaction to me going out when you've being packing up your shit for a week, and working on this divorce for months.
She goes on a bit about how I could have been smoking pot and cigarettes, or even worse, could have had someone new already. Of course, I couldn't resist the impulse to ask her what business it was of hers. She agrees, but continues to practically hyperventilate, fan her reddened face with her hands, and say, "Calm.... calm.... calm...", over and over again like the sheer power of that word will take care of what's eating at her.
By now, my damned conscience is really starting to get the better of me. I have no heart to really lay into her now. This game is no fun anymore. What I see crumpled up in a fetal ball before me is a shell of a human being who has no clue why she is suffering so, nor any inclination to listen to the voice that is nagging her to stop the cycle of pain.
I help her a little bit with the spyware problem she's developed on her PC, tell her that I am just next door if she needs anything, then go to bed.
The next morning, I invite in to have sex, thinking that she could use a little stress release. She readily agrees, of course. Afterwards, I tell her that it's not too late to change her mind. I point out to her that the intensity of her reaction points to a bond and unfinished business in our relationship. I remind her for the thousandth time that her problems will go with her, because her problems are not my doing. At least not the ones that impel her to flee this situation, and God's obvious call.
It takes less than five minutes to recognize that I'm wasting my time. She doesn't have the courage to back out of a bad decision when she believes that other people will end up mad at her for it. The new employer, her father, the current employer, the babysitter, the moving company... Basically anyone who isn't God or me... God, because she's convinced herself that God's totally cool with her plan to get away to someplace where she can really 'work on herself'. Me, because I'm just an over-the-top asshole who makes her feel inconsequential and incompetent.
Despite the recognition of futility, we continue to dance the same old dance until lunchtime. Finally, I decide that it's time to get some things done and let her get on with her escape.
Sunday we both went to church. Separately. I had decided that I was going to go both hours this week, as I had written an email to four couples with whom I've developed relationships over the past year, filling them in on the situation. D only stayed for the service.
The sermon was taken from the Book of Acts, Chapters 8 through 12. The theme was one that I've been dwelling on for some time now -- trusting in God's Sovereignty in the face of tough times. For those of you who don't know these passages, I'll summarize it by saying that had these events not taken place as they had, Christianity would most likely have been relegated to the status of a minor Jewish cult, instead of the world changing faith it has become. But God accomplished it through pain, suffering and death of those who believed. Yet they experienced great joy and power in their faithfulness, trust and obedience.
As I sat there, two things kept swimming through my mind. First, how could D sit week after week in that church and be able to choose as she has? Second, and more important, what am I gonna do with this truth? As I sat, I decided that I was just going to have to let go of D once and for all. If God hasn't been able to convince her to trust and obey, what kind of chance do I have?
No, it's more important that I put an end to my own flight from God. D likes to counter that there is no difference in degree or scale between her sin in pursuing this divorce and my various sins of anger, bitterness, and omission. I both agree and disagree. While my failure to love grieves God no less than D's choice to divorce and ignore God's many interventions into our situation, there is a hardening that comes with taking a trifling stance with God that you can do your own thing now and repent later. We've all done it. Me as much, if not more, than anyone. But that just makes the path to restoration all that much more difficult.
But that's all irrelevant now. All that matters is that for which I have to bear responsibility. It's time for the anger and bitterness to end. It's time to travel the hard and narrow path to restoration and healing. I've always wanted someone to travel with me, but now I realize that everyone has to go this one alone. You don't meet God with your wife and friends, at least when it's time to take care of your business. Someone can take you to the door, but you have turn the handle and step into the audience all by yourself.
With God's grace and timing, D will come to her own encounter, or continue to suffer the mental, emotional and physical erosion of her self that displayed itself with such force Friday night. I can only commend her to God's care and discipline.
In the meantime, I have an opportunity to get rid of my own crippling self-protection and finally get a life.
- posted by The Drake @ 9:49 AM
