We need to teach our daughters to distinguish between a man who flatters her and a man who compliments her ~ a man who spends money on her and a man who invests in her ~ a man who views her as property and a man who views her properly ~ a man who lusts after her and a man who loves her ~ a man who believes he is God’s gift to women and a man who remembers a woman was God’s gift to man.
– Unknown
*Thank you, Kate.
Posts Tagged: marriage
20
Sep 11
Settle Down
She came home from work with a story to share. She was animated and expressive. Her emotions were out in full force. She was starring in her own one-act play about an event from her day. She couldn’t wait to share it with him.
She’d always loved when he shared his stories. She knew he would give her his full attention.
She never could talk without moving her hands, and as she got wound up with the telling of the details, she was gesturing and demonstrating and waving and pointing and gasping for breaths.
He looked up from the newspaper and said,”Whoa, girl, settle down!” Continue reading →
6
Sep 11
It Takes a Good Leavin’ Alone
When he sends the epically long email explaining that he hasn’t introduced the kids to his girlfriend because they don’t show that they care about his life, they never come over anyway, and he really didn’t think it was any of their business…
When they question your choices, make sarcastic comments about your lifestyle and complain about how stressed and over-worked they are…
When you’ve seen that they can make healthy choices without you having to hover, lecture, or demand…
When he’s never shown any interest in what you have to say, yet you think he will this time… Continue reading →
26
Aug 11
Secret Makings of a Happy Ending
The pile of clean folded clothes was a prop. The pile sat on the counter waiting for its cue. The cue was the sound of the garage door opening.
__________
She wrote detailed plans for her new future. She’d live in a house where she could take deep breaths – a house where she didn’t walk on eggshells.
She wouldn’t have to ask permission to faux-paint the bathroom walls. She’d cook what she liked at whatever time of the day she pleased.
She’d sweep the floor when she felt it needed it. Continue reading →
15
Aug 11
Walls, Fences and Structures
An excerpt from Seeing My Path.
… I remind myself that all the structures in my life have been created by me.
The structures are determined by my relationships and my role in those relationships. The structures dictate where I go.
I think of the structures as guard rails that keep me on the path I’m traveling.
. . .
The structure prevented me from moving closer to who I was supposed to be.
On this plateau, with the sun warming my face, I can see – far down below – a maze of high walls. The walls are the structure I thought I needed to guarantee love and acceptance. They funneled me in the direction of pleasing others, helping others, and putting myself last.
What if I made the decision to raze those walls and create a new structure?
What if I trusted that love would come to me if I allowed myself to follow a path that didn’t put everyone else first?
Could it be that each step in the direction of my true self might bring me more strength and more love?
Then I heard myself having a conversation with… well… myself.
*To read more about how my choices and structures led to my marrying a narcissist, how I lost myself, changed course and finally got headed in my right direction check out Seeing My Path – In and Out of a Relationship With a Narcissist.
It’s a good story with a happy ending… so far. ;)
13
Jul 11
Waiting
When her babies were small, she had an urge to knit tiny striped mittens with pink and green and purple fuzzy yarns. Now her kids wouldn’t be caught dead wearing handmade mittens. Friends were having babies who needed their precious hands protected from the harsh winter winds. She could make mittens for those babies.
She was waiting for her mom to teach her to knit.
He often found himself at a friend’s house on Saturday afternoons, and after swilling a couple beers, someone would suggest playing a pickup game of basketball. He’d laugh and say, “I’ll sit this one out. I’m lousy at basketball.”
He was waiting for his dad to teach him how to play basketball.
He’d read all he could find on SEO, blog traffic, building customer loyalty and what the experts had to say about making money on the internet. He’d finished his most recent course, made some progress and signed up for the next impressive looking webinar that would surely push his project over the edge. He lacked the confidence to believe that he had the skills and knowledge that would make his project a success. Continue reading →
26
Jun 11
The Last Straw – An Excerpt from Seeing My Path
… I reflect on the events that happened right before I decided to leave my marriage. Obviously, as in any marriage that is on the verge of crumbling, there were many issues. Everyone has their own last straw. Mine will not be yours. Your last straw will look completely different from another person’s last straw.
In fact, I’m convinced that we don’t know when that last straw is approaching. We get so busy putting up and shutting up, that we don’t see that the scale has been tipped.
The scale was off balance long ago and we are so busy keeping the peace, scrubbing the floors, making the apologies and hiding the toys, that we don’t notice that nothing more can be added to the scale.
That’s why the last straw is often infinitesimally small. The last straw could be a sideways glance, a pair of dirty socks left on the bedroom floor, or an off-handed comment about the way the chicken was prepared for last night’s dinner.
I didn’t see my last straw coming.
To this day, I marvel at the smallness of the infraction.
But, take many small infractions over years of disappointment and resentment and failed expectations and bars raised too high, and suddenly I met my last straw.
We were sitting at the dinner table with Will and Jenny and my husband’s older kids from his previous marriage. Over messy burgers, fruit salad, Domestic Beers and spilled Kool-Aid we had the disjointed kind of conversation that families have – the kind where you laugh and try to interject something and miss the beat and it just doesn’t matter because after dinner you’ll go outside and eat popsicles and play Bocce Ball.
Somewhere during that conversation, the patriarch – the man of the house, the provider, the role model, the man whose job it is to make us feel loved and welcomed and safe – got up from the table, mid-bite, and walked upstairs.
(He later told me he was tired of the conversation. He was sick of the boring exchange. We simply no longer interested him.)
His oldest son glanced at me with a look that said, “What did I say that he didn’t like?” Later, when we cleaned the kitchen together, the oldest told me his father often did that – left the dinner table – when he and his brother lived with Mark. I thought he only did that with his new family.
I came up with a feeble excuse about how dad is tired from work, or dad isn’t feeling well.
But that night, his getting up and leaving his family sitting at the table, still eating their dinners, was my last straw.
After years of seeing the lack of spirit, the inability to make a decision, and the fear of disappointing their father – in these two older children – I realized that by staying in this marriage, I would be letting history repeat itself.
I couldn’t save his oldest kids.
I could try to save mine.
Seeing My Path is an ebook that tells the ongoing conversation I’ve been having with myself, and the questions I ask. It’s a look at how I ended up marrying a narcissist, how I got out of the marriage, and what I’m doing to try to get back on my own path.
23
Jun 11
On Reframing
When he told her he liked her hair longer and that her face looked too full with a shorter cut, she got up the courage to tell him that his comment had hurt her feelings.
He reframed the incident by gently reminding her that she was far to0 sensitive and that he was just trying to help.
When he got home from work and commented that she must have had one crazy day since she hadn’t found time to clean the floors, she tried to defend herself. She explained that she’d been folding clothes, changing diapers, feeding children and preparing dinner and that she hadn’t found the time to get to the floors.
He reframed the conversation and pointed out that dinner would be more enjoyable if the floors were clean. Continue reading →
4
May 11
Three Candles
They’d been walking hand-in-hand down the sunny side of Main Street. She stopped in front of a window displaying candles, flower arrangements, leather-bound journals, potpourri sachets and tiny jars of hand creams. Just then the door opened and they were enveloped by floral and citrus scents, sandalwood and patchouli.
Against his resistance, she pulled him inside the boutique. She’d eyed these tiny clear blue votive holders. They spoke to her of honesty, purity, timelessness, commitment and truth – all the things she believed she felt in this relationship with this man holding her hand. They were a symbol of this new life full of promise and light.
She had to have them.
She could see herself – at the end of a day – lighting these candles to remind her of how lucky they were to find each other. These candles would bring them close together at those times when life would get in the way and try to drag them apart. These lit candles would be the glue that held them together.
She was sure that some nights he would light the candles for her or, at the very least, he’d light them with her. Continue reading →
25
Apr 11
I Hate Holidays
As I walked through Target looking for something to get the kids for Easter, I passed the poofy, over-the-top Easter Dresses. I remember getting a couple Easter Dresses for Jenny.
She didn’t wear them to church.
She wore them in the garden while digging for worms.
She didn’t really need an Easter Dress. I needed to be able to buy her one. I needed to be able to take a picture of my little girl in a frilly, crinoline-stuffed, white dress, with a pink satin ribbon tied at her tiny waist.
That dress and the picture were on my list – the long, guilt-driven, impossible-to-achieve list of All Things Moms Do. Continue reading →
16
Apr 11
Playing For Keeps
“There’s no such thing as certainty.”
“Take it one day at a time.”
“People grow and change.”
“Forever is for Twinkies and the winter of 2010-2011.”
“There are no guarantees in life.” Continue reading →
17
Mar 11
homekeeping 7
Will is still struggling with images of ghosts entering his mind every night at bedtime. Jenny just cut five inches off her long blond hair.
I’ve been mopping up the mess as best I can.
I’m providing them with lots of distractions – there’s packing to do, new books to check out, sketch books and art supplies to gather and journals to fill.
We are leaving town in search of Spring and a new perspective.
I’m hoping some sun will warm our winter-weary bones, and heal our bruised psyches. Continue reading →
15
Mar 11
Ships Have Only One Rudder
Will is a compassionate fellow with a tender, sensitive side and a fearless streak that makes him charge down ski hills at a speed that launches him into powder and shrubs and stuff that he can’t see. Occasionally he checks out the landing before he jumps, but not always.
He’s like a lot of twelve year old boys in that he’s fascinated with the unknown, the risky, the adventurous and the slightly scary. Kids thrive within the safety of boundaries – set rules of behavior, established bed times, and defined expectations. That’s why they find it exciting to step just beyond those boundaries once in awhile. It’s thrilling to tempt fate, stay up late, skip school one day or ski out of bounds and brag to your friends.
When a child has a parent who doesn’t stand firm on boundaries, that child will have a tendency to feel untethered. There will be a need to talk about boundaries. He’ll have to ask and be reassured that the boundaries haven’t changed. That kid’s foundation is tilted. They don’t have a secure knowledge that they truly know where the lines are drawn.
It’s okay to discuss the latest slasher film on the chairlift with a buddy, when at the end of the day, that kid goes home with a parent who reassures him that he is safe and protected, and that the doors are locked and the bad guys can’t get him.
It is not okay to have your dad tell horror stories in the car as the day comes to a close on the way home, only to drop you off and say, “Hey, Buddy, I’ll tell you more scary stories next time.” Continue reading →
21
Feb 11
Army of Love
“Mom, will you help me make a bunch of paper airplanes? I’m making an Army of Love.” Jenny showed me how to fold the paper, told me the color order and where the gas tank went, and we made 13 paper jets. As we were folding and coloring and giggling and talking of paper cuts, I asked her how she came up with the idea. “I dunno,” she said. “It’s a good idea. I think they should fly over the world dropping candy hearts, like little love bombs.”
While my daughter might have a fine imagination, she also knows of the practicality of forming an Army of Love. I don’t need to spoil the fun by saying, “Come on, Jen, do you really think there’d ever be such a thing? Wouldn’t it really be an Air Force of Love, even if it could be real?”
She’s exploring possibility through art and writing. She’s gotten a taste of the more unpleasant aspects of life. It’s good to balance that with the freedom to try, to imagine, to pretend.
It’s good to be free to wonder.
It’s good to be allowed to try, with the belief that anything is possible. Continue reading →
16
Jan 11
Cowboy Up
His Wranglers and Tony Lamas were broken in to that soft, but not too-distressed phase. He walked with a purpose – chest puffed out, arms swinging, head held high.
Even though it was only 4 degrees outside, he didn’t bother with zipping his ranch coat. There was no need for gloves.
He strutted back and forth in front of my vehicle. He was confident and independent.
