Well, after a bumpy start, Mark and I have begun cooperating on the divorce. He’s still in the thick of his family situation, but we seem to have agreed on a plan that will allow this to go as quickly and smoothly as possible. I’m seeing a stark difference in how we communicated with each other a year ago and how we’re communicating now. As hard as it is to admit this, through using my program tools now, I’m seeing how incredibly nasty and disrespectful I was to him in the past. I was in a different place at the time, being rocked and knocked about by the thunderstorm of emotions over his betrayal, so I’m trying not to beat myself up over a natural reaction to deep, legitimate hurt. But now that a lot of that sadness and anger has been processed, I feel like I’m at a place where I can interact with him in a much more sane, detached way. And he seems to be following suit by treating me respectfully.
In some ways, even though I’m relieved, it’s kind of sad. It’s sad that it’s only now, when we’re divorcing, that we can finally get along. But I would rather exit the relationship with the two of us making some living amends to each other and offering each other a degree of resolution than ending the relationship fighting and racking up even more resentments to work through. Still, this tiny crumb of resolution is hard for me, especially because it taps into some family of origin issues. I’ve never gotten a formal amends from my father and, though the living amends Mark is offering me through his cooperation is more than my father has ever given me, the lack of a real, substantial, meaty apology and resolution is kind of painful. I sometimes still resent having to be so fully responsible for my own healing, or, when I'm looking at it more rationally, I resent that I can heal but that some of my most important relationships can't, not right now and not to the degree I want them to. I realize, though, that it's all about managing my expectations and being mindful of what people are realistically capable of giving at any point in time. And, if I'm honest, I'm not ready to give anything besides a living amends to Mark or my father either.
However, something really strange but wonderful happened last night that did offer a greater degree of resolution in a roundabout sort of way. A total stranger who’s a sex addict found my blog and left a comment on a post I had written back when I was still living with Mark. In this post he came across, I describe in excruciating detail the depth of the pain I’m feeling. It’s really raw and so close up you can see the pores. It was hard even for me to read it again, so I can’t imagine it being easy for a stranger to read it and not turn away, wincing in a mixture of panic and horror over the seeming bottomlessness of it all. But this man read the entire thing, and then wrote this:
I'm a sex addict myself and my best friend whom I live with is the one who sent me this link... I'm sorry, I'm really sorry to all the people that I've hurt, but also I'm sorry to know that you are this situation. I've been trying to clean up my act, because I can see the things you mentioned...
Yet I'm so detached from any emotions...
I'm sorry...
When I read it, something in me broke loose and I just cried—sloppy, heaving, cleansing sobs. And when I was done, I felt like I could breathe just a little bit easier than I have for the past few years. It’s moments like these that make me believe in a Higher Power and allow me to readily see the connection between all human beings. I needed to hear “I’m sorry,” someone else needed to say it, and we, two complete strangers stumbling across each other in the blogosphere, both got some of what we needed.
In some ways, even though I’m relieved, it’s kind of sad. It’s sad that it’s only now, when we’re divorcing, that we can finally get along. But I would rather exit the relationship with the two of us making some living amends to each other and offering each other a degree of resolution than ending the relationship fighting and racking up even more resentments to work through. Still, this tiny crumb of resolution is hard for me, especially because it taps into some family of origin issues. I’ve never gotten a formal amends from my father and, though the living amends Mark is offering me through his cooperation is more than my father has ever given me, the lack of a real, substantial, meaty apology and resolution is kind of painful. I sometimes still resent having to be so fully responsible for my own healing, or, when I'm looking at it more rationally, I resent that I can heal but that some of my most important relationships can't, not right now and not to the degree I want them to. I realize, though, that it's all about managing my expectations and being mindful of what people are realistically capable of giving at any point in time. And, if I'm honest, I'm not ready to give anything besides a living amends to Mark or my father either.
However, something really strange but wonderful happened last night that did offer a greater degree of resolution in a roundabout sort of way. A total stranger who’s a sex addict found my blog and left a comment on a post I had written back when I was still living with Mark. In this post he came across, I describe in excruciating detail the depth of the pain I’m feeling. It’s really raw and so close up you can see the pores. It was hard even for me to read it again, so I can’t imagine it being easy for a stranger to read it and not turn away, wincing in a mixture of panic and horror over the seeming bottomlessness of it all. But this man read the entire thing, and then wrote this:
I'm a sex addict myself and my best friend whom I live with is the one who sent me this link... I'm sorry, I'm really sorry to all the people that I've hurt, but also I'm sorry to know that you are this situation. I've been trying to clean up my act, because I can see the things you mentioned...
Yet I'm so detached from any emotions...
I'm sorry...
When I read it, something in me broke loose and I just cried—sloppy, heaving, cleansing sobs. And when I was done, I felt like I could breathe just a little bit easier than I have for the past few years. It’s moments like these that make me believe in a Higher Power and allow me to readily see the connection between all human beings. I needed to hear “I’m sorry,” someone else needed to say it, and we, two complete strangers stumbling across each other in the blogosphere, both got some of what we needed.
7 comments:
It is telling to read what your commenter wrote about being so detached from any emotions. That is what I think happens in addiction of any kind. Very sad indeed.
Margaux,
that is amazing. I couldn't agree more-- I think you needed to hear it and someone needed to say it.
I also don't think there are any coincidences, and the timing of this random blog run-in is pretty amazing. You are cared for, M. Know that.
I'm also glad to hear about Mark cooperating with you for the divorce. And yes, ouch to that. My husband has been exceedingly kind about all of our business dealings too, and in some way that's even more painful for me, because it brings up some of the things you mentioned, like being sad that you couldn't have interacted this way before. However, I would encourage you to remember, it's not just your awesome self-care and boundaries. Mark also had a stake in this, and I would bet is showing you he still cares through whatever way he can. It reminds me of my husband-- like he knows he's no good for me, but he's letting me go quietly and kindly. That's almost worse to me then arguing and cruelty, some days.
Hang in there.
Bernadine--Yeah, I often find that those moments come at times when I'm feeling a little confused and disconnected from my HP and feeling like I have to figure it out or make it happen all by myself. It's one of those reminders of powerlessness that's actually comforting.
You're also really right about Mark having a stake in it. It takes two to tango, and I can take only 50 percent of the credit for the past few interractions going smoothly. I do know that we both care for each other a lot, and that's a really sad realization to have in the midst of divorce, because I know that caring isn't enough to heal everything in the way I'd like it to.
Margaux,
It's been a long and winding road for you both.
Much peace to you both.
K-
Katrina--Yes, it certainly has. And even though I'm sad, I'm also relieved. It's good to be finally putting a lot of this behind me.
I'm still terribly saddened by the news of your divorce :( I know this is you life, and not mines, but I feel so very connected to your story,especially since our lives paralleled each other for awhile. When I read about your divorce, part of me feels like that could've been me & ML had things gone differently. I'm glad you're at least cooperating on the proceedings - that's one less thing you have to worry about!
I know I rarely comment on your blog these days, but I still think of you & miss you dearly. I'm glad you're finally getting some closure with this stuff.
((HUGS))
Hey Enigma, thanks for dropping by. I've missed you! I think we can all find connections between our stories and others', no matter how different they might seem. All of us partners in recovery have the same things to work through, no matter if we've stayed with our SAs or not. I hope you'll still be blogging once in a while--I miss your writing and the connections it gives me to my situation!
xo.
M
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