Relative Evolutions

The December before my parents got divorced, they adopted a puppy.  Dekker was my Christmas present, and I couldn’t have been happier.  I wanted him to sleep in bed with me, but he was too small to go up the stairs.  My parents didn’t want him on the furniture, so I slept on the living room floor to be with him overnight.

As his puppiness progressed, he went from being a tiny and quiet ball of fur to an active and destructive young lad.  In the Spring, he dug and chewed the linoleum floor in the kitchen.

“We might not keep him,” my mom whispered to me one night.

“No!” I gasped.  ”That’s my dog!  You can’t get rid of him!”

My dad was able to patch the floor and we moved on from the incident.  Dekker’s antics continued to be a source of stress in the home, but that changed in the summer when my dad moved out.  As Life As We Knew It ended, the puppy mischief became a welcome distraction.

We bonded around each day’s destruction. We marveled at how smart Dekker was- how he was able to open cupboards and unscrew the lid off the peanut butter jar.  He stole our socks, but he also stole our hearts.  Always, we forgave him for his naughtiness and there was never again any talk about not keeping him- he was part of our (revised?) family.  We even allowed him on the furniture.

Without my dad around, Dekker’s personality began to grow large enough to fill the void.  He began “talking” to us, and for us.  He said the things we didn’t want to say:  ”Momma, I ate the floor again.”  He tattled on me and my sister:  ”Momma, The Tara finished all of [her sister's] pudding pops.”  At night, we’d all crowd in my mom’s bed and watch TV in her room.  When he wanted to stretch out, Dekker would brace himself against my mom, place his paws on me and proudly proclaim that it was time to “push The Tara off the bed!”  And I’d tumble to the floor, laughing.

I often credit my parents’ cooperation through their divorce as the reason I came through it unscathed.  But I think Dekker had a lot to do with it as well.  He gave us something to come home to, something to focus on… he was something we could unite and agree upon.  He infused joy into every situation simply by wagging his tail.  He took us from sad to silly- from frustration to frolicking.  And (without awkward conversation) he reminded us every day how much love there was in our lives.

Dogs have a way of reminding us what’s important:  food, water, shelter (mostly during thunderstorms) and family (no matter how it’s arranged).  When times get tough, they tell us:  ”eat, play, love and every day is good.”  They have a way of forcing us to smile when we otherwise can’t.  Through their neediness, they teach us to keep going.  I will always be grateful to Dekker for his unique way of shepherding us through my parents’ divorce.

For more about Gina, check out “The D-Word: Divorce Through a Child’s Eyes”

When people ask, I tell them that The D-Word is not my personal story.  And, that’s true.  However, there are elements of Gina’s journey that were taken from my experiences throughout my parents’ divorce.  Like Gina, I was also told of my father’s departure while on my way to what was supposed to be a fun summer vacation.

Unlike Gina, I knew it was coming.  After my parents decided to separate, they were honest with me about the Uncertainty Of The Rest Of Our Lives.  I remember going for a walk with my dad, and he told me that he didn’t know what was going to happen… but he assured me, one way or another, everything would be OK.

From what I’ve read, it’s not just me:  Uncertainty doesn’t sit well with kids.  In an effort to assuage my anxiety, I formulated a fantasy.  My plan made perfect sense:  my dad made more money, so naturally he would keep the house.  I was old enough to choose where I’d live, and I was determined to stay with my dad because, at the time, I liked him more.  My sister was young and therefore she’d move out with my mom.  They’d have to leave, but they wouldn’t go far— there were some reasonably-priced townhouses for rent just up the street from my house and so I assumed they’d move there, making it easy for me to visit anytime.  My plan came together easily— in fact, I had all the details worked out as I was preparing for bed in the hours following the conversation with my father.  I thought it made perfect sense, and I recalled it whenever I felt nervous about What Would Happen Next.  Even as I overheard conversations which should’ve caused me to reconsider, I continued to cling to that dream because it seemed the most practical and preferable to me.

Two months later, I was shocked to learn, as Gina did, that my dad would be gone when I returned from my vacation.  I wasn’t invited to go with him, and I wouldn’t be there to witness his departure.  After months of silently adding details to my Perfect Plan (my dad would get rid of the white ruffly curtains in the dining room and we’d hang unruffled blue ones instead), the fantasy was shattered in a few simple words.  Suddenly, on my way to the beach, there was much cause for grief.

I’m sharing this story, as I’ve shared all of my/Gina’s stories, to illustrate the different world that children live in.  Given their limited knowledge, their reality and conclusions are vastly different from those of Mom and Dad.  As a nuclear family begins to progress towards bi-nuclear status, it’s especially important to keep an open dialog with the children.  Give them as many answers as possible about what they can expect to happen next.  If answers aren’t immediately available, provide regular updates and scheduled family meetings to discuss any questions that might come up along the way.

It’s human nature to tell ourselves stories in an effort to exert control over uncertainty, and kids are well-equipped with vivid imaginations.  If left unattended, those imaginations can create a world of false security (expectations to be denied at a later time) or outright pain for children to exist in on a daily basis.  It’s important for Mom and Dad to check in and make sure the whole family is on the same page.

I recently had the pleasure of reading Ennis Pepper’s In Defense of Divorce:  Why a Marriage Should Never Be Saved at the Expense of a Life (available in eBook format only).  What I discovered was a series of thoughtful arguments to challenge the traditional Christian doctrine that says “divorce is forbidden.”

“Divorce is a solution, not a sin.”

The introduction relates a sad and complicated tale of a woman who sought Ennis Pepper’s assistance after her home church denied her both a divorce and a remarriage.  From this real-life example, Pepper launches into many issues, including our blind adherence to traditions that don’t serve us, the relationship (or lack thereof) between marriage and church, biblical references to divorce (and adultery) and appropriate help for those who are suffering.

This easy read employs both a practical and scholarly approach to the defense of divorce.  Conflicted Christians can find comfort in the ancient cited text which does not directly condemn the actions of modern-day couples.  Throughout the book, we are reminded that marriage was created in a perfect environment, for perfect people.  This is no longer the case, as imperfections abound on all levels in our society- therefore it’s necessary to reconsider the assumptions and rigid rules we’ve made along the way.

Through this text, Pepper provides an appropriate assessment of how the Christian attitude toward divorce has evolved.  He also raises important questions to challenge the notions that some conservatives hold dear.  And he reminds us to hold individuals in a higher regard than a marriage, not the other way around.

My relationship with Ex-BF was, I thought, the best one I’d ever had.  From the beginning, we pledged (on a bench, in the woods, beside a pond) that “love is not enough.”  We agreed that we’d have to respect each other for as long as we were going to stay together.  Many of our “l love yous” were followed by “I respect you.”  We spent the majority of our free time together.  Being with him was like being home.  He was my best friend and I couldn’t imagine my life without him.  (He has that effect on women.)

The end of our relationship came as quite a surprise to me.  I had suspicions about the Other Woman, but I had no idea she was so actively plotting to acquire my position in our home.  What followed our separation was months of talking, shouting, crying, propositioning, accusing, apologizing, etc.  He blamed me for our breakup, angrily insisting that he never wanted to be with her.  He claimed that he felt trapped into taking her in.  I agonized over my own actions, constantly questioning whether I did/said the right thing.  I felt sorry for Ex-BF, as he was suddenly struggling with a very difficult situation and no easy way out.  I rationalized much of his behavior.  I blamed the OW for intentionally orchestrating our scenario in order to meet her own selfish desires.  I faulted the circumstances under which she originally coerced (so he claimed) his compliance in their covert copulations.

“He’s a playboy,” one of our mutual friends mentioned, quite matter-of-factly, about a month after my life exploded.  I winced as the words caused me physical pain.

No! I thought.  [Our friend] doesn’t know Ex-BF like I do.  These scenarios make it easy to pass judgment and assign labels, but that’s not what happened here.  Ex-BF is a loving soul who was momentarily misguided.  He’s suffering through this transition just like I am.

I didn’t want to be a victim or a fool or a raging manhater.  I wanted peace and closure, and I worked for it.  Hard.  I struggled to stay in the present moment when my mind started spinning stories. I leaned into relationships with people who supported my growth through the experience.  I cultivated compassion for those who hurt me.  And I amassed enough gratitude to fund a bouquet of organic roses.

And that was all well and good.  I’m a better person for it.  But, I think I left something out of my process.

I recently discovered the web site, Chump Lady.  And I must say I’ve developed quite an affection for it… not just because of the profanity and witty writing, but because I recognized my own story within the pages.  From the time I started reading, that whispering wisdom inside my head began to chatter endlessly.

“Remember back in 2009, when you knew they were up to something?  Remember how you were worried about the state of your relationship, and he said you were acting insecure?  Remember the therapist and your determination to work through everything as long as he swore he was innocent?”  The little voice begged.  …Ah, yes.  That was me eating the “shit sandwich”.

“Remember when he said your emotions were your own problem and he refused to empathize, even though you were clearly hurting?”  …Yep, that was a classic case of “it’s not that they don’t see, it’s that they disagree.”

“Remember his apparent need for relationships with other women?  All those emotionally wounded ‘friends’ that he developed over the years?”   …Uh huh, those were ego kibbles.

“Remember when he suggested you should’ve tried to physically fight her off?”  …Ugh, he just wanted to witness the Humiliating Dance Of “Pick Me!”

“Remember when he suggested it would be funny if he cheated on her with you?”   …Right, that was all about him getting more cake.

Jeff Brown once said, “You have to acknowledge yourself as a victim before you recognize the karmic choices you (may have) made to become one. The lesson- if there is one- begins with a self-dignifying recognition of the wrong that was committed. Let’s begin there, and know that truth deeply, before inviting people to jump to ‘karmic contract’ and ‘lesson’ and ‘It was a blessing in disguise’. First, it was an abuse. Let’s heal that first.”

So, here goes, the grand admission:  I’m a chump.  I was the victim of an ego-centric serial cheater.  I was manipulated into questioning my gut instincts and blaming myself for the erosion of trust in our relationship.  He knew how deep his betrayal cut me and he simply didn’t care enough to do anything respectable about it.  He willingly committed various acts of emotional and psychological abuse.

There, I said it!  (I know some of you have been waiting a long time for that one) Now, all that being said… the nice thing about going backwards in this process is that I’ve no desire to identify with that story.  There’s some dignity to be regained by saying, “I was a victim.”  But I’m not that victim anymore, and telling myself that saga doesn’t soothe any of the scars.  It’s quite liberating to stop protecting him, yet I don’t want to keep blaming him.  Again, still, I choose compassion and forgiveness (at least, most of the time).  And boundaries.  Really firm boundaries

Warning:  I’m about to out myself regarding a controversial topic.

My Facebook Feed turned red this week, and for good reason.  I was happy to see so many of my friends show support for marriage equality by changing their avatars to various renditions of the HRC logo.  Among the textual blurbs:  “love is never wrong”,” anger leads to hate, hate leads to The Dark Side” and my personal favorite, “dogs don’t discriminate, neither should humans.”  These are all wonderful messages, and it fills me with joy to see so much support of equal rights for all who want to get married (and, if necessary, divorced).

So… why can’t this attitude persist through the divorce process?  If “love is never wrong,” then why do we fight it so hard after the romantic relationship is over?  Why do we feel compelled to despise The Ex’s new flame?  Why are children trained to disparage the “bad parent”?  Why are friendships and familial relationships dissolved simply because of what “side” someone is (or is supposed to be) on?  And why-oh-why do we allow these “sides” to form in the first place?

(I know the reality.  I know the humanity.  I know the answers.  That doesn’t mean we should stop questioning our protocol.)

Do we not realize the hypocrisy?  The discrimination?  The blatant disregard for fellow human beings?

Breakups suck.  And evolution is never easy.  But, shouldn’t we start taking our own advice?  If everyone has the right to love and be loved, shouldn’t that include exes too?