Silent Rage

It's always lurking just below the surface. His rage is in his eyes, in how he carries himself, in how he speaks. Maybe I'm just imagining it, but I don't think so. He is in so much pain and it comes out in anger - or "frustration" as he calls it. Like a different label makes it less destructive somehow.

It doesn't take much to prick the surface of his rage these days. His new religion gives him a bigger platform to hand out his judgements. And those new judgements are so harsh, so unbending and cut to the core of everything I hold dear. My faith in Jesus is my all. He has rejected so much of what was once our shared faith.

He gets so "frustrated" when I go into my self-protective funk when we argue. I just shut down and won't answer him or respond truthfully. I feed back what he wants so we can end the "discussion". And that funk comes on much quicker these days. I feel so bruised and fragile. I told him at the end of the last argument that I am soooo afraid of him, and soooo very tired of being afraid of him. It's more than walking on egg shells, it's like walking on shards of glass all the time.

It's ironic that he is trying so hard to be quiet right now. But I still feel the rage. It's right there, in his eyes along with the pain and worry. Damn, he means well. He's so sincere, but he won't accept my viewpoint. He thinks I shouldn't be afraid, so there is no other solution allowed but that I stop being afraid.

I remember a news story a few months back. A man had murdered his girl friend. He was so sorry. He just lost his temper and went too far. He wished he could take it all back.

Sounds like our arguments these last couple of years. He is so sorry for what he says, how he beats me up with his words. There has never been any hint of physical violence, but it lurk in the air. He was violent with our daughter. I don't know why he has never applied it to me.

That's part of what I'm grappling with. He is capable of hurting when he looses his temper. Or even more frightening, when he thinks it's for a "good cause". He used that excuse when he physically held and restrained Grace... which always turned into a physical fight. And his police training always gave him the upper hand.

Grace recently recalled one really bad fight. She broke his glasses and he bruised her. I don't recall the fight. She says I was at work and refused to come home when she called for help. I think it was one of the times my husband had decided we needed to confront Grace on something and wanted me out of the picture so I wouldn't interfere.

I agreed with him at the time - I would have stepped in and stopped him when it got physical. I really believed his approach that I leave was best. I NEVER should have allowed him to go so far. Grace now bears the scars of my fear of confrontation, my inability to face my husband.

That's the rage he keeps silent within himself. It's still there, lurking, waiting to be pricked and spill over...

Two Journeys - One Woman

I started this blog with as much anonymity as I could. I need to be free to write about all of my journey without friends and family reading who may be offended or upset with my words. But I have another blog where I've been writing about my journey as the mother of a heroin addict. Today was a big day for my daughter and grand-daughter. I think it is fitting to tie the two blogs together today. I wrote this first entry in July on A Mother's Journey, and followed it up with today's entry below.
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July 13, 2011

So, besides the daily struggles to keep up with life (and never finding that combination of time and energy to blog here), I am wondering today how much of my current struggles are real and how much of them are alive only in my mind? How much of what I'm seeing in my family is due to the reasons I think and how much could just be me putting a negative spin on something neutral?

I've spent so much of my life doing "damage control" - or rather "pre-damage control" - trying to anticipate the hurts before they come so I can prepare for them. But in the process, I'm always assuming the worst. That leaves me angry or sad or upset with those around me even if nothing is going on. And my actions and attitude will influence how they respond to me. It can be a vicious circle that starts in my fear and escalates into reality.

For instance, hubby has been very distant and non-communicative for several weeks. I assumed it was because he was mad at me based on our last in-depth conversation. Turns out he's been fighting migraine headaches for 6 weeks now. The new medicine is working wonders in his attitude - and my assumptions.

Maybe all his silence is not directly related to me... Maybe the world does not revolve around me... Maybe this family has motivations and reasons for how it functions that are not directly under my control... I know that in my head, but my heart wants it to be different. If I'm at the center then I'm in control. If I'm in control then I can ensure I won't get hurt or have to see others hurt. The problem is no human gets a painless life...

I think its part of getting real, of learning to see things as they really are. Living in denial is more than just seeing everything as "nice" and "ok" with no problems; sometimes its seeing everything as crisis or bad or ugly when its not. Most of the time its some combination. Today's challenge is figuring out where that balance is.
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October 19, 2011

Funny, reading through that last post highlights my confusion these days. See, my husband was indeed VERY angry with me. He was a little more talkative for a few days once his headaches eased, but it was short-lived. He continued in the silent treatment until another big explosion (or at least it felt like an explosion to me). I even moved my things into the spare bedroom while he was a church that night after the argument, but he came home remorseful and repentant. To his credit, he's been trying harder since then. But he still gets angry and says things that hurt me. And I'm so bruised it doesn't take much to make me bleed right now.

But all that is secondary to today's big milestone. Grace was officially "awarded" custody of Melody today. What a concept, like a prize in a contest. Hummm, kinda was in some respects. But Grace has made so much progress and everyone agreed it's time. We all cried in relief, even Grace.

On a side note, Grace pricked a memory in me tonight. She was complaining about how my husband and I hijacked her Facebook page when she disappeared after leaving treatment. We had promised we would have her arrested for the theft of my jewelery if she left treatment so she ran, leaving Melody with us. We were panicked, wanting to know she was ok. She rightfully resents having her privacy invaded that way and how we announced her drug use to all her friends and former co-workers. There are a thousand arguments for and against what we did, none of which I want to explore tonight.

But she said tonight in her bitterness that we didn't care about her welfare at the time. She has no concept... one of my most vivid memories at the time was getting the dentist's phone number ready in case we needed her dental records. We were prepared to identify her body if needed. How does a mother weigh these preparations against her daughter's right to privacy on Facebook?

Yet the bigger picture tonight is that Melody is officially under Grace's control again. I am jubilant - such a positive step. Grace has beat the odds already. She and Melody are relating so much better than I've ever seen them do. They love each other so much and deserve this.

It's so strange to feel this joy along with the deepest terror I've ever experienced in my life. It's not so much a fear that Grace will return to heroin (although that is a frightening possibility), or even the fear from loosing control over Melody (I can't protect her anymore)... I am deathly afraid of being alone...

They love each other and don't need me anymore. That was the whole point of this, right? But I have built my life on them, they give me meaning and purpose. I am nothing without them. They are all that is good in my life. Not only were they my distraction from all that is lacking in my marriage, they are the very essence of who I am. I cannot fathom a future where they function independently without me.

Weird. I've been telling Grace for decades now that she has to figure out how to function on her own. One of these days we won't be there to take care of her, to rescue her. Now she's fought her way to that reality all on her own. And I'm the one in a panic. I have no idea how to live like this...

Your Life Is An Occasion: Rise To It

Mr. Magoirum's final words to his protege; "Your life is an occasion, rise to it". In some sense, my life is finally a blank canvas at 54 years old. I really think my marriage is over. I can't sort out how much of it is my fault right now, although I know a great deal is from my own hand. But the bigger challenge right now is not to take all the blame, not to assume that this is in my control.

I am so afraid of my husband; and so tired of being afraid. I can't talk to him, I can't be honest with him. I'm teaching my grand-daughter to lie to him in our common fear of his anger and disapproval. I can't go on. I keep waiting for the next explosion, but it may come too late for my soul. My innards may be dead by then.

How do I walk away, 54 years old, likely unemployed in a few months, penniless. Yet how to do I stay, knowing he thinks I am cursed because I won't submit to him and his religion? How do I respond when I know he's hinting for sex and his last angry outburst is ringing in my ears? How do I connect to someone who is so disconnected from me and all I hold dear?

Even with all our differences, its how we relate that is the bottom line. We could follow two very different faiths as we do now, but we need to be free to choose individually. I can think he's wrong and still treat him kindly and with respect. Somehow in his woundedness, he only sees contempt in my disagreement. And he responds in anger, beats me down emotionally.

I could list the many abusive things he's said trying to gain my compliance to his viewpoint, but I don't know if that really matters. What matters is that he beats me with his words. What matters is that he explodes on me. What matters is that I am not allowed to think or say or do anything he does not approve of.

I have such a hard time understanding what goes on inside me. I think the main reason I'm still here is for my grand-daughter. My daughter should have custody back soon. That's when the canvas gets really white, open for new color. Will I rise to the occasion? How do I walk in the meantime? I think I need to be honest about a couple of things, but I know he'll be angry. It's what he does with that anger that scares me. And I'm so exhausted from the fear.

Please help me, Father. Help me rise to the occasion, to the life You designed me for. I know what I have right now is not the life, not the me You intended. Nor is it for my husband. What is the next step, when do I take it?