a wretch like me

I Love My Cubcle.

2010-09-07T08:26:00.004-04:00

It's all I could think about yesterday, while I stood in the bathroom, shaking. I was physically shaking, but I could also feel myself shaken at the core.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked me. "Stop worrying. I'm here. It's fine."

It's true, in ways. It was fine, but it also wasn't fine at all. It was the opposite of fine.

It's like a war veteran, I guess. You're home in your recliner, and maybe you hear a big noise like an explosion, and suddenly, even though you can tell you're just sitting in your recliner, your whole body feels like it's at war. Your blood is boiling, and you are trembling, and your life is in danger, even though it isn't.

Or maybe that's not quite right. Maybe it's like a war veteran who is sitting home in his recliner, and he hears a big noise. And he's scared, more scared than the average Joe who hears a big noise because of that time he spent being in a war. But then, he realizes OH SHIT THAT'S A MOTHERFUCKING BOMB THAT JUST WENT OFF IN MY BACKYARD AND THIS IS NOT JUST TRAUMA, THIS IS REAL, AND I'M NOT SAFE, AND I NEED MY GUN AND MY FLACK HELMET AND MY BULLET PROOF VEST.

But now, I'm in my cubicle at work. Nobody really knows me. I have pictures I like on the wall and a Jesus candle. There's a picture of my husband, but I could take that down if it bothered me too much. There's a picture of my dogs. There are things to do, and when there isn't anything to do, I can read the internet. I have a little cabinet I can lock when I walk away, but I don't think anybody would steal anything, even if I didn't lock it.

But I'm still going to lock it.

My eyes hurt. I keep thinking I must be sleepy, but actually, I've just cried a lot. I don't want to be back in this boiling lava hot life. I want my husband back, and safety.

There are all these ways I could explain that I know more lies he told me, but they are stupid. This explanation involves scissors and a marker. I looked at the scissors and the marker and thought, "These are out of place," but I didn't recognize that it had any import until I saw the syringe and the spoon in the place where the scissors and the marker used to live. And even then, it didn't occur to me that he'd been telling a lie and that I could prove it by the misplaced scissors and marker until much later.

"I'm a liar. You married a liar. If you can't deal with that, then you should just fucking leave," he said.

What does one do in this instance?

See, I did marry a liar in that I married a man who sometimes tells lies - great big whopping lies. But I didn't marry a liar. Not at his core. At his core, I married a smart, kind, compassionate, funny, fantastically creative and talented man. I married a man who is a survivor, who is brave, and who is seeking after God. I married a man who makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

I wish I could see where it went wrong. For so long, it seemed like we might be on the other side of the worst of it, and now, here we are again, with the syringe, the spoon, and the shaking on my insides.

I wish I could stay in my cubicle forever.

I found it.

2010-09-06T23:03:00.005-04:00

First, I found a _____ when I was looking for a _____. I carried it around for a while. I even took a picture of it. I emailed it to my friend.

Next, I found some ____ on the _____. I couldn't hold it in anymore, so I asked him about it.

"That's old!" he said.

I knew he would.

Today, though, I found a _____, the Queen Mother of all _____. It was like finding a live snake. It was like waking up, and there's a live snake in the bed.

And then, I showed it to him, and he told me some lies. I know that they are lies.

I thought this part was done, with the heroin and the lying.

Hi God. It's me.

I'm going to need some help with this stuff. I'm so injured in this area that it feels kind of impossible to move around with the wound reopened. I know you can make me stronger, though. I am so afraid for my husband, for my marriage, for myself. I have this good new job now. I don't want to mess it up. I don't want it all to fall apart. Please, send the comforter to me tonight. Show me what you'd have me do, even if it's hard, I'll do it.

Amen

Who Does That?

2010-08-28T00:21:00.003-04:00

I was 21 years old, and it was time to graduate from college and decide what was happening next. I thought I should move to New York.

Somewhere, I'd heard it said that all writers must move to New York for a season. It seemed to make perfect sense to me. I mean, there were some obstacles: I had a huge amount of student loan debt. I knew no one in New York. I had no money. I had no prospects for a job. The housing was outrageously expensive. I'd only been to New York City one time, for a few hours.

What could go wrong, though? I was smart and pretty. I needed to get away from my cocaine habit and my lover, who just couldn't seem to be on the same page as me. As long as I was in the same town as him, I couldn't get him out of my blood. I could feel his skin all over my body. I was going to have to run away.

I applied to every graduate program in creative writing in New York City, and I got in. I moved in August of 2001, right before September of 2001, when the clouds obscured the sun, and never quite cleared.

I keep listening to that Augustana song, "Boston," where the girl is young and going to run away:

She said I think I'll go to Boston
Think I'll start a new life
I think I'll start it over
Where no one knows my name
I'll get out of California
I'm tired of the weather
Think I'll get a lover
And fly him out to Spain
I think I'll go to Boston
I think that I'm just tired
I think I need a new town
To leave this all behind
I think I need a sunrise
I'm tired of Sunset
I hear it's nice in the summer
Some snow would be nice
Oh yeah

Conversation with an Old Friend.

2010-08-23T17:49:00.001-04:00

me: i missed you the other day!

Tia: hi
how are you?

me: i am ok! how are you?

Tia: good, well tired right now
I just got back from brooklyn, a two hour train ride

me: yuck.

Tia: what's going on with you? what are you doing?

me: i just got a new job. i am married to a recovering heroin addict who is the handsomest man in the whole world. i want to have a baby. what are you doing? where are you living?

Tia: I'm getting an MA in Philosophy
i'm single. it's ok. the thing i'm more excited about right now is that i've been working on a novel over the summer

me: academia is hard.
i'm almost glad these days that i could never quite get comfortable there.

Tia: yea and annoying
i think that's probably a good thing

me: a novel is exciting!

Tia: what's your new job?

me: it is a very exciting, grown-up job
it’s at a corporate headquarters
it's the first time ever that i will be making really good money
i mean, it's the first time ever that i'll be making even decent money
it's kind of strange

Tia: why's it strange

me: i'm jumping from broke to fairly well paid.

Tia: congratulations by the way

me: like not rich, but really, really comfortable.

Tia: what are you going to buy
what treats?

me: well, first, i have to clean up some financial messes.
so first, i'm going to buy away my debts.

Tia: freedom, that's a good purchase

me: then, i'm going to help my husband get his business going.
and i need some grown-up clothes
and my house needs some work.
next, i'll buy a helicopter
and i'll fly it to visit you all.
and buy shoes.

Tia: yay
we have good shoes

me: yes.
how is your whole family?

Tia: good

me: i feel like i miss your mother even though i never met her
because i always heard stories about her.

Tia: that's amazing
I'm sure in a way she misses you too
my brother just moved to LA
my sister is going to start work in october
my little brother's still in college

me: college!
he was a baby when i was there. i guess it's been a million years

Tia: oh, no i think it has
it feels like a long time ago
on a different note, i just finished dubliners tonight
it was so so so good
I just wanted to say that outloud
or in writing

me: yes. dubliners was good.
i should read it again.
i think i haven't read it since high school or college
and i probably didn't understand it right.

Tia: i'm sure i didn't understand all the stories, or at least i wasn't blown away by all of them
but i read the last one in one sitting, on the ride home
and it's incredible

me: i like the love parts
like the sailor
isn't there a sailor?

Tia: maybe, i read it over a really long period so i don't remember all of it
so, tell me more about your life
do you like the job itself?

me: i don't know yet. it starts soon.
i think i like it, though.
it is writing, and i like that

Tia: what are you doing until your work starts?

me: i am also teaching
and enjoying not working a bajillion hours
i was working a bajillion hours for a long time

Tia: what are you teaching?

me: writing

Tia: that sounds like fun

me: it is. i like teaching.
my students are getting so young, though.

Tia: really, as they progress?
like a benjamin button thing?

me: no. i get older, and get further and further away from 20
like when i was with you guys, you seemed younger than me, but just by a hair
now they seem like they shouldn't be out in the world yet
like infants
driving cars and having sex and thinking about adult stuff.
they shouldn't be doing those things.
they are children.

Tia: i know what you mean
my little brother is older than we were then but i can't believe that
but on the flip side, when i think of my mother having three kids by the time she was my age
i feel like she was much younger than i realized as a kid

me: yes. that is crazy.
three kids at your age is nuts.
oh, i also got all religious. that was interesting.

Tia: that is interesting
christian?

me: yes. i found jesus, like they say.

Tia: very interesting

me: i had no idea.

Tia: are you a specific kind of christian?

me: i was so upset with myself when it happened.

Tia: i can imagine

me: i went looking for god, and i was pretty sure i'd accept anybody BUT jesus.
and there, at the top of the god mountain
jesus.

Tia: how does that work

me: well, my husband was doing all this heroin

Tia: how is jesus different than god in general

me: and life got really, really hard

and so i started going to 12 step meetings and trying to find answers and stuff
and so i decided that i'd let god exist
just a little
just in case
and i tried all kinds of different gods.
i was meditating with a hindu guru for a while
i had buddha books
i was doing yoga
everything
except
jesus
damnit
but my husband started making gestures at getting clean
and he wanted to go to church
so i was willing to go with him
because i wanted something or somebody to fix him
and we went to this wonderful little church
and i just kind of fell in love with the people
and the pastor
and eventually, jesus
well, that's part of the story
the other part of the story is about how i got my car broken into
so i had this GPS thingy
and somebody broke my car window to steal it
and see, during the addiction time
my husband pawned all my electronics
like everything
computers full of poetry
cameras
everything
so getting my electronics stolen is this sore point
so i got my gps stolen, and i was crying
and i was kind of praying about it
and kind of thinking about karma
because that was where i'd landed on the spiritual map
eastern religion
and i was thinking about how i'd done lots of bad things
and so lots of bad things were going to keep happening to me
and i was feeling really hopeless about being stuck in that cycle
and here's where jesus comes in
or where jesus is different from god
i swear
and i'm not lying
i heard, in a voice that was not my own, "Ask me to forgive you, and I will."

Tia: i'm still here

me: and it freaked me out
but i couldn't deny it
so that is when i became a jesus freak.

Tia: what kind of voice was it?

me: calm, still, quiet, clear

Tia: a man's?

me: i'm not sure.

Tia: so you still go to church every sunday?

me: i totally do.

Tia: what else do you do?

me: i'm going in the morning.
and i pray all the time
it's a pentecostal church
and people put their hands in the air

Tia: wow
that sounds like fun
is your husband still as in to it as you?

me: he goes back and forth
at first, it was totally his thing
i was just hanging out with him
and then, he relapsed
and he had an affair with an awful woman
and so he kind of dropped off the map
and i got WAY MORE BIG into it
and then, he was done with that
and came back home and was sorry
so he was WAY BIG into it

Tia: how do you keep forgiving him

me: and now, we're both kind of steady, but he's still in early recovery and kind of crazy, so he sometimes is back and forth
i don't know.
i think i've been given a measure of grace to allow him to get through this first few years of recovery.
that or i'm insane.
or both.
or neither and it's something else.
he's very handsome.
maybe that's it.

Tia: you've mentioned that
i have a jesus question

me: i might be able to answer it!

Tia: when you say you believe in jesus what does that mean
like do you believe in the whole story of the virgin birth and the cruxifiction and the resurrection

me: i believe in god the father, creator of heaven and earth
and in jesus christ, his only son, our lord
who was conceived of the holy spirit
born of the virgin mary
suffered under pontius pilate
was crucified, died, and was buried
he descended into hell
on the third day, he arose again
etc.
the whole thing.

Tia: so... what about the part about the jews killing jesus
are you mad at us?

me: if nobody had killed jesus, then the whole jesus story couldn't have happened.
it had to happen just like it did.
and, if you're buying the jesus narrative, (which i am)
you are buying that whole jewish story, too
you are just seeing it through a different lens

Tia: ha, you probably believe in more of the bible than i do

me: maybe so, right now. it's all new and shiny to me.
i learned a lot about god from you ladies.
i've been learning a lot about god from everybody except christians for a long time.

Tia: were you raised christian?

me: being around you all taught me that there can be a lot of freedom in restriction.
i was raised in church
but kind of haphazardly
sometimes in, sometimes not
and it was like cultural, i guess
not spiritual
and everything i learned about god from my parents' church made me run.
tell me about you and boys and god.

Tia: sadly not very much right now
i was dating one guy for my last two years of college
and then we broke up but it was still kind of...
there were still a lot of emotions there and i dated a couple other people but i was still thinking about him
but now i feel really ready for someone new
i just don't like anyone
or they don't like me

me: i hate that way someone can get all in your blood.

Tia: or we don't know each other
oh, it's awful
i'm glad i had it though
it was fun to be in love

me: yes.
and it gives you things to write about.

Tia: i'm just worried that part of me is shutting down

me: no way.

Tia: i also don't really know where to look for guys

i'm in a weird place religiously, like right on the left fringe of the orthodox world
so i want someone who's interested in religion, or at least in the questions religion presents

me: that makes things so complicated for you guys.

Tia: but i don't want someone who's in the community

me: i'm glad i was already married before i had to figure out god.

Tia: yea, i could see that

me: i didn't have to try not to have sex or find somebody on the same page or anything.

Tia: but you're lucky he's open to it

me: yes.
he opened me to it.

Tia: right
so it could be something that brings you together where otherwise it could have brought you apart

me: yes.
we have these friends in their twenties

Tia: ohhh

me: i love them dearly
they just got engaged
and they aren't having sex
and i find them to be fascinating
with their not-sex-having

Tia: they're christians?

me: yes
but they don't have sex.
it's like living with unicorns.

Tia: unicorns?

me: well, i just never knew anybody who was doing that
i knew you guys, but you guys were like unicorns, too
like mythical creatures from another world.

Tia: oh

me: i've never ever tried not to have sex with anyone in my whole life.
i just did it if i wanted to.

Tia: i read about this thing called sex fasting
which is totally secular
it's just to re-invigorate a relationship the people don't have sex for a while
then jump on each other

me: when i got married the first time, we didn't have sex the two weeks before we got married
so i guess i did try not to have sex
just to make it funner on the wedding night

Tia: yea, that's the one benefit i see to it, that first night has crazy passion

me: yes.

Tia: or crazy awkwardness because you don't know what you're doing
did it work?

me: or both.

Tia: was the wedding night better?

me: i don't really remember.
we were so tired.
and i was thinking a lot about death and life and the other man who i was in love with
and family and children and past and present and future and all that.
it wasn't a very sexy occasion

Tia: it sounds poignant though

me: one thing that made me appreciate marital purity stuff is that affair my husband had.
i wish he'd never seen another woman naked except me.
and i wish i'd never been with anybody but him.
i want that area to be sacred between us
and i never saw that before he broke our marriage vows

Tia: have you been able to make it sacred despite the affair? do you think it's fixable?

me: we are working on it.
it is getting better.
but there's still some brokenness.
mostly, it's me.
it's like there are layers of grief that i haven't tapped yet
and then, i'll find one
and have to mourn it for a few days
and then, i'll be fine again

Tia: his he supportive through the process?

me: as much as he can be.
so yes and no
sometimes, really really supportive

Tia: so he has a lot to work through also
were they together for a while?

me: it was a month
he kind of ran away from home
i think it was fun for him to be around somebody who didn't understand all the addiction
he could paint himself to be somebody who hadn't done all that bad stuff

Tia: yea, an escape

me: all the stealing and lying and all the disappointment. he said that every time he looked in my eyes,
he could see everything he’d ever done wrong.

Tia: did you think during that time about being with anyone else?

me: never.
i don't want anybody else.

Tia: it's incredible how much you love him

me: maybe.
it's not like it's something i'm doing, though.
i wish i could make it stop.
i mean, not today
today it's good
but when it's been bad, i've wished i could just cut him loose

Tia: yea, well, i don't know if i mean incredible in a moral sense, as good or bad, but just in a life sense
it's not lukewarm

me: no. it's not.
it's for sure married, too.
there is nobody else on my radar, ever.
i don't even see handsome men
i might notice a handsome man if he kind of looks like my husband.
like i'll appreciate his handsomeness as a reflection of my husband’s

Tia: i have to see a picture of this guy
so how do you decide what you take literally in the bible and what's figurative
because i think it says tattoos aren't allowed, but obviously that's not someting christians take literally

me: i have a relationship with god, and i feel a check in my spirit when something isn't right for me.
for me, it's all about the relationship
it's not about the rules.

Tia: but what then do the rules mean to you
why are they there?

me: the old rules were there to show us how very far we were from perfection

Tia: oh, interesting

me: and that no amount of rule following would make you right
so there's paul in the jesus part of the bible
and he was a super-jew right after jesus
like killing christians as heretics
and he has this dramatic conversion
and part of his thing was about how following the law to the letter had turned him into kind of a monster
he says that he was blameless as far as following the law was concerned
but that he'd been killing people
and that was fucked up.
that is my translation of one of the pauline epistles.

Tia: i've read a little paul, but not much
and none of the rest of the new testement

me: jesus has this thing in the sermon on the mount where you are supposed to gouge out your eyes and chop off your hands and all that.

Tia: although i did just buy one
that sounds bloody

me: and he didn't mean for-real-go-do-it
or at least that's how i understand it
i read that passage as teaching me to read the bible literarily
not literally

Tia: but some of it is literal, like the not killing people
not stealing?
me: yeah.
but even that gets fuzzy
like jesus and the disciples take some grain on the sabbath because they are hungry

Tia: so, it seems like christians don't really hav ea good argument to be anti-gay

me: and so to me, the only hard and fast rule is that i have to have a relationship
i have to fast and pray and study to seek answers
and i have to work out my own salvation with fear and trembling
yes. the anti-gay thing is wack.
the church is a dirty rotten beautiful whore
it's like a whore who is really beautiful if she washes off her perfume and makeup

Tia: i really like the way you write

me: why thank you.
i mean, maybe god doesn't want people to be gay.
i don't know, really.
what i do know is that god wants me to love people well
i know i'm not gay.
i'm glad i don't have inclinations in that way. it would be really confusing.

Tia: yea, me too
it does make things easier
and i like men
so i like liking them

me: but if anybody ever asked me about it, like what god thought about being gay, i'd tell them to go work out their salvation with fear and trembling.

Tia: yea, i like that answer

me: i'd also tell them that i think a lot of what paul is talking about in the new testament is ritualized homosexual child rape in worship of baal
and i can totally get behind that being messed up.

Tia: me too
i think we agree on that

me: ritualized male-on-male child rape is totally wrong.
i agree that it should be banned.

Tia: i'm actually against all child rape

me: i'd vote with the republicans on that one.
yes. i will extend the ban to all child rape, in worship of pagan gods or not.

Tia: ritualized, homosexual or hetrosexual

me: actually, i'm against all rape.

Tia: you know, once we're getting fanatical i'm going to say
me too
that's what i was going to say
rape is bad

me: rape is totally immoral.
god hates rape.
i am sure of that.
i consulted the bible and the holy spirit
and i got a clear answer.

Tia: what about rapists?

me: god hates rape.
damn it.

Tia: do you think god hates rapists?

me: no.
god loves rapists.
that is terrible.
that is why i don't get to be god.

What it Was Like.

2010-08-16T01:03:00.003-04:00

I didn't like him the first time I saw him. He was far too handsome to be safe, and he thought he knew everything. My first husband thought he was great. They became fast friends.

I thought someone should be sleeping with him. He was far too handsome to be wasted on his girlfriend only. I didn't want to sign up for the job, but I'd recommend him to my girlfriends. "He's hot. He thinks he knows everything, but he's hot."

When my ex-husband said he was thinking of living with him during our senior year of college, I said I thought it was a bad idea. There was something about him that was just maddening, and I thought it would be a distraction. My ex was partying too much, and I thought it might be wiser to live with other students. He didn't take my advice, and they moved into a 3 bedroom apartment together.

My ex had to be out of town one weekend to visit his father, and there was going to be a big party in the building where he lived. My girlfriend and I were going to attend the party, and we'd gotten some X to enhance the celebration.

I was wearing a pair of camel brown boots and a short skirt. He and my ex had found a credit card at the bar where they worked, and they went on a shopping spree. The boots came from the shopping spree. It was the first time I'd worn them, and I felt really sexy. In fact, I felt far too sexy to be all out in the building where the party was happening. I hid out with my girlfriend in my ex's room. He'd left earlier that day, so I helped myself to his liquor. We laid on the bed and felt the waves of adrenaline wash over us. The X was excellent.

He came to find me. I don't know what he had on his mind. I don't know what I had on my mind. He took one of my feet and removed the boot. He held my foot in his hand and rubbed it, up and down, with his fingers. He had a steak knife, inexplicably, and he stroked the bottom of my foot with its tip. He lifted my foot to his mouth, held my toes right in front of his lips, and laughed. I could feel his hot breath on my feet.

I realized I was wearing white granny panties, and giggled. I'd not expected to be showing them to anyone, as my ex was out of town. I realized he'd been able to look up my skirt all night. He took off my other boot.

My friend said she wanted to go home, and I had to drive her to her car. I told him I'd be right back.

As we walked out the door, she said, "You're going to sleep with him!"

I said, "I know!"

It seemed funny. It seemed fun. It seemed like something to do, nothing bigger than the pills or the liquor - just kicks. Just bullshit. Just whatever. I had no idea that I was signing on for life.

I came back after I dropped off my friend, and nobody was home. We sat on the couch. He got very, very close to me, and I laughed. I don't remember how we started kissing, but we did. We kissed and kissed, and somehow, we were talking while we were kissing. I couldn't figure it out - like maybe we were thinking the words. Our clothes dropped off like petals, as if it we'd always been naked together. The crook of my back fit the fold of his stomach. My lips fit his eye socket. Our mouths were intersections, and everything was possible.

He wanted to make love in my boyfriend's bed. I told him to come to my house instead.

We made love, and we slept folded into each other. I woke up to his mouth on the back of my knee, his eyelashes fluttering my thigh, working his way up. I didn't know it was all orchestrated. I didn't know I was falling into something I couldn't climb back out of. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, he was inside of me.

We stayed in bed for several days. We didn't answer our phones. Nobody could find us. We were off the map. I thought I was having a good time, until it was time for him to go back to his girlfriend, time for my boyfriend to come back home. I found I didn't want him to leave.

When he told me he loved me for the first time, he said he's been thinking about it all day, rehearsing the words and how he'd say it. I don't think I'd thought about it yet, but as soon as I saw the words in his mouth, I knew they were written on my insides. I knew I loved him from the inside out. I knew I hadn't known what it meant to love a man before, that I'd been playing at it all along.

I married him right then. I mean, I didn't marry him. In fact, I married another guy in the meantime. We both worked through the ins and outs of our early twenties. I got clean, and he got addicted. I got married and divorced. He slept with scores of women. Always, though, he was with me. Always, he was the core, and always, always, always, we returned to one another, filled our mouths with each other and talked, talked, talked. Always, I loved him, and waited for him to tell me he was ready.

Zombie Honeymoon.

2010-08-15T20:39:00.001-04:00

It's the best movie of all time. They get married, and he gets zombie bitten on their honeymoon. She goes into denial and tries really hard to "make it work." It ends with Tammy Wynette's "Stand By Your Man."

Watch it right now: Zombie Honeymoon

No Matter.

2010-08-13T20:26:00.002-04:00

It doesn't matter how I rearrange the furniture, it still happened. It doesn't matter how much I don't talk about it, it still happened. It doesn't matter how much I pray, how much I forgive, or how much i try to push it far, far back in the furthest corner, it still happened, and right now, the violation is as fresh as on the first day.

2.

2010-08-05T01:34:00.000-04:00

No. Please. Don't. Stop.

Oh. You're a shitty guy.

2010-08-03T11:32:00.002-04:00

Sometimes, I'll have this feeling in my gut. Someone will say something that seems not quite right. I won't be able to put my finger on it, but there will be some certainty, deep inside of me, that things aren't as they seem. That the situation isn't quite right.

I'll dismiss the feeling. I'll excuse and explain it. I'll tell myself I'm being unfair, judgmental, unkind, cruel. I'll tell myself that I'm not a very nice person to think that someone, who appears to be in all sincerity telling the truth or treating me fairly or representing reality as it truly is, might be deceiving me. And I'll shove that little thought way, way down into the file where I store such things. I'll flag it, file, it, and do my best to forget about it.

But inevitably, that little flag will wave around, furiously, demanding my attention. I'll look away - but out of the corner of my eye, there it is. And invariably, as I pull at the situation a little, it quickly, clearly comes all unraveled.

I realize that the sense I had of being deceived is, in fact, appropriate - as I am being deceived. I'll realize that the niggling suspicion I had that this person does not value me or my contributions is, in fact, true. I'll find that my seemingly unfair assessment of a person as being a shitty guy is, in fact, accurate.

This tendency to deny what my guts are telling me to be true helped my husband keep using for a really, really long time. I had to face that I'd contributed, through my denial and enabling, to allowing him to hurt me financially and to paint himself into a corner in his addiction. My refusal to see that his sickness was spiraling out of control just contributed to the growing sickness in our home. We seem to be on the upswing from that most difficult place, but I can't shake this tendency to believe that things and people who seem too good to be true are, in fact, too good to be true.

1.

2010-07-24T00:18:00.001-04:00

I put the words in your mouth.
You put the mouth in my words.

Maybe.

2010-07-20T23:14:00.002-04:00

Maybe I should take a lover,
make a baby with him,
run away.
Maybe I should drink
a thousand bottles of wine
and drown.
Drown.
Drown.
Maybe there's a place
where I could go
where it would just be fine.
Maybe I could get another job.
Maybe I could drive a forklift.
Maybe I could sell a hamburger.
Maybe, maybe, maybe I could run away
somewhere far
or warm
or cold
or busy.
Maybe I could cut this life wide open,
spill the guts all over.
Maybe I could search
the internet.
Maybe I could call a friend
or take a bath
or write a poem
or play a game.
Maybe I could make something.
Maybe I could write a letter to my mother.
Maybe I could read a book
or the Bible.
Maybe I could look at her picture,
see if she's beautiful yet.
Maybe I could live in a trailer,
push a vacuum cleaner, nurse a child,
tie a dog to a tree in the yard.
Maybe I could spend some money at the mall.
Maybe I could buy a car.
Maybe I could buy a new suitcase,
red,
and pack it for a ride on a train.
Maybe I'll go to New York,
where the writers go when they want to write.
Maybe I could twist it wrong
and make it right. Maybe I could.
Maybe, there's a way to fit it in,
or in between,
or underneath.
Maybe there's a way.
Maybe I should find God.
Maybe I should join a cult.
Maybe I should drink the Kool-Aid.
Maybe I should hitch a ride on a space ship to a saving star.
Maybe I should go to the fair by the sea
and ride a ferris wheel.
Maybe I could get a new tattoo.
Maybe a mermaid.
Maybe I should sell my soul. Maybe I should speak to a stranger.
Maybe I should get on stage.
Maybe I am an actrss.
Maybe I should go to him and rest my head on his chest, breathing
together.
Maybe it's enough tonight.

Well.

2010-07-19T00:34:00.002-04:00

Every moment is an ambush,
a giant with a head enormous
as eternity.
Every morning, there is a rush,
a crash,
a swallow.
Its long throat, gaping,
at the bottom, nothing
but dark, dank, dead.
What has happened
has happened,
and in the intoxicating presence
it never matters anyway.
Lie down, face down.
Submit to it. It's better this way.
Don't get your feet wet in the river,
don't think too hard,
don't burn your hands,
don't bruise. Don't let go.
Don't learn.
Leave. Leave. Leave, woman,
leave that ever-looming ledge,
that teetering boulder thing,
the hanging by a string.
There could be others,
there could be,
and yet, there never could,
and the detox so interminable -
the chills, the fascination.
The you. You. The object,
the target of the darts and the bow
stretched back,
the blowing, arching back.

Hi Blog.

2010-07-11T03:21:00.001-04:00

I'm still awake. It's almost 4 AM. My husband is working. He's in his very own, for-real place of business. It's happening. It's great. I'm exhausted, but it's great.

Scrambling.

2010-07-03T12:55:00.003-04:00

Things are awfully scary at my house these days. My husband is at a crossroads. He is maybe about to see one of his dreams come true, and he's having to press hard to make it happen. He's not accustomed to having to push for anything, as much of his life, his charm has gotten him everything he needed. He doesn't seem to be taking it very well, and I am afraid.

I am afraid to be hopeful for him. Every time in the past that I've thought there was some change, just around the bend, that would make it all ok, there was actually some crisis looming...some dark secret waiting to emerge. I don't want another one. I don't know if I've got it in me.

I see him making mistakes and panicking and scrambling, and I am afraid.

God, please help me to trust you in this next push for change. Help me to release my husband into your care. Help me to find balance between using wisdom to protect myself from the fallout of any bad decisions he might make while being willing to make a faith leap with him. Help me to trust in your love for me and your protection over me and my husband. I am so afraid that he's going to do something destructive to our marriage because of his anxiety. Please comfort me and comfort him. I trust you. I want to trust you.

Amen.

Ache.

2010-06-19T21:21:00.003-04:00

I went with friends last night to a popular music venue in our town. As I sat down at a table, I remembered that my husband had told me at one point that this was the first place he'd gone out with the other woman.

He'd stayed with her until the bar closed, and then, when she offered to let him come back to her place, he'd gone.

I looked at the exposed brick in the wall, the bar and the blue paint...the shine of the bottles. The pretty girls and handsome men. I listened to the music, the drums' suggestive beat. I imagined him there with her, and me at home, heartbroken. I imagined it all unfolding.

And then, I started to pray. I prayed for that place to be redeemed. I prayed for it to be made holy. I prayed for God to move in there in such a way that another husband would not be lead astray. I prayed that women would have the self-respect not to invite strange men back to their homes. I prayed that wives at home would be comforted. I prayed that not one more marriage would be lost in that place.

I wish I'd had a stone to leave to mark the moment.

30.

2010-06-15T16:38:00.003-04:00

Our homework from our pastor for this week was to make a list of 30 things we're grateful for and to pray over that list until it turns our heart to praise. Here's mine:

Thank you, God, for hunting me down. Thank you for not letting me escape your grasp. I wish it could have been easier, but I know I wouldn't have submitted any other way.
Thank you for my church family. Thank you for the way those people have loved me and embraced me.
Thank you for bringing my husband back home to me. I prayed so fervently while he was gone that he would come back to me, and you were faithful to bring him home.
Thank you for the work you are doing in his life, for being faithful to finish the good work you have started in him.
Thank you for my dear friends .
Thank you for my pastor, for his intelligence and sound teaching.
Thank you for my house.
Thank you for my new car.
Thank you for my crazy dogs.
Thank you for my sweet cats.
Thank you for our roommate and his wonderful girlfriend.
Thank you for my mother and father. Thank you for giving me a family that I can trust will always love me, no matter what.
Thank you for my sister and the sweetness that she has added to my life.
Thank you for my wonderful little niece. Thank you for the joy that she has brought to my family.
Thank you for my community life groups from church and the families that I've become a part of through them.
Thank you for my jobs. Thank you for allowing me to earn my living doing something I love to do.
Thank you for providing for my husband and me while he has been unemployed through my work. Thank you for always allowing us to make ends meet, somehow.
Thank you for yoga. Thank you for my yoga teacher and for my wonderful yoga school and for the day and way you reassured me that it was all ok.
Thank you for my Nar-Anon family. Thank you for those women and men who understand the deepest parts of me.
Thank you for the 12 steps. Thank you for introducing yourself to me through them.
Thank you for my students, and especially those that have become my friends. Thank you for giving me a skill that can empower other people, and for using me as a vessel for their benefit. Thank you for that little bit of your goodness that sticks to my insides when you use me in this way.
Thank you for visiting my planet.
Thank you for the girls I sponsor and the ways I get to watch them grow.
Thank you for 24-7.
Thank you for my iPhone and the music that's in it.
Thank you for the poetry classes I had in college and graduate school and the friends I made there. Thank you for giving my that outlet. Maybe one day, I could have it again.
Thank you for making my husband so beautiful. There's nothing in the whole world better to look at.
Thank you for the way that almonds taste.
Thank you for my in-laws, and especially my sister-in-law.
Thank you for my bath tub. I love it so very much.

Help.

2010-06-01T16:40:00.002-04:00

My church is moving. I went with my husband and a band of young men from our church who were going to play basketball in the new gym, and the pastor's wife was there as well. Instead of watching the boys as I'd planned, I sat in the pastor's new office as she busily arranged his books. I worked on my computer a bit, chatted with her some, and thought and thought and thought.

She had organized his books by color on the shelves, which looked quite nice, but she was afraid it might not be the most effective way for him to be able to find what he needed. She talked through countless organizational schemes, and she generally busied herself making his office as appealing and functional as she possibly could for him. While he played basketball with the boys, she did her best to serve him. It was sweet to watch a wife's love for her husband in action.

It was different from how my own love looks, or at least, it is different from how my loving has looked since addiction touched our home. I have forgotten how to help without becoming a hindrance. I have lost the art of serving my husband in these practical, hands-on ways in the battle not to do things for him that he can do for himself.

Within the next few weeks, my husband will be moving into his own new working space. I remember a time when I would have been excited to help him...to watch him move his things in and to help him organize and decorate. Before addiction, I would have been as excited about his new office space as he is. I'd have ordered him business cards and picked out material to make him curtains. I'd have gone through his art supplied and organized them for him. I would have done it from the deepest place in my heart - from an earnest desire to serve him lovingly, to help him to the best of my ability, and to make his new working space as comfortable and desirable as possible.

Today, though, I still feel that I have to keep my hands off. I have to keep my heart detached, as I am unwilling to be disappointed again. I have to keep my finances separate, as I don't want to spend my money on another fruitless project. I have to keep my clear boundaries for myself so that I do not stand in the way of my husband finding his own success and investing himself in his own business.

I hope, though, that one day, I'll be able to love him so tangibly again. I hope that the cloud of sickness that has been hovering over our relationship will continue its dissipation, and the murky lines between help and harm will become clear again.

Hi God.

2010-05-30T00:17:00.004-04:00

It's me.

I need to talk to you about something. It's my husband. He's wonderful. He's kind. He's honest. He's even more honest than I can really handle about some things. He makes me feel like he's cherishing me. It's everything I wanted all along. It's how I hoped it would be - that on the other side of this mountain we've been climbing together, there would be this intimacy that we never could have known without the rough ascent. It's still coming, too. I know it's not as good as it's going to get.

And I am terrified. Sometimes, I feel like I'm being set up. And I realize lately, the more time I spend with You, the more I tend to feel like You are the one setting me up.

Now, I know it isn't true. I can look at the lives of others who have experienced much bigger hurts, much more painful experiences, and I know you didn't set them up...but I can't shake this suspicion that You are out to get me.

It doesn't make any sense, either. I'm living out, every day, everything I wanted. You have blessed me and blessed me, but I can't quite trust that there isn't a trapdoor in here somewhere that I'm about to crash through.

I wanted to know if You could continue to help me with this problem. I need You to help me figure it out, to help me find the places in my mind or my heart that are hard. I need Your perspective - I need to feel it in my heart that You love me...just like You love all the other people. Help me to trust You, to put my whole life in Your hands without suspicion.

Amen.

Why?

2010-05-27T22:34:00.004-04:00

Sometimes, when I get overworked and under-rested for long enough, I turn into this puddle. Tonight, I was a puddle. I saw my father today, and my husband and I had some hard conversations, and I'm teaching too much and feeling behind all over - and just kind of coming apart at the seams.

A friend mentioned recently that she was a "foul weather friend." I am a "foul weather blogger."

So tonight, I was sitting in my exhaustion puddle, and one of the things I do best in that head state is feel really sorry for myself. I wonder why God would let bad things happen to me, and then, I run the gamut of bad things that have happened to me in my life from infancy until the last 24 hours, and I resent each and every one. I ignore my blessings. I am ungrateful and bratty and whiny (and weirdly, sometimes, this petulant behavior works. God meets me in these times, even if it's for some correction.)

Tonight, God asked me why He'd let bad things happen to a new friend of mine. She was one of my students, and she and I have been talking about some of her junk lately. Some of her junk overlaps with my own - so it's easy to talk and understand.

"Why would I let bad things happen to her?" He asked me.

I had so many answers, so quickly. He will use those bad things that happened to her. She is a powerful woman with a strong voice. She was strong enough to survive those things and know that the way through her pain was to seek Him. He will use those bad experiences to set her up, to give her an ability to serve other women and children who have suffered as she has. He is outraged at her pain, and He will do everything He can to redeem it - to make those weak and broken places into her strengths. He told me that we are blessed when people insult us , persecute us and falsely say all kinds of evil against us because of Him; that we should rejoice and be glad, because great is our reward in heaven.

Yep.

Reliable.

2010-05-03T10:18:00.004-04:00

I am having transportation troubles. The transmission has died on my old truck, and probably, I'm going to be laying it to rest. There is a chance that someone from within my church community will be able to fix it for me; however, if they can't, I'm going to be on the hunt for a new car.

I had thought about buying another very old car that I could get for a few hundred dollars, and I still may do that. We have a few friends and family members who have some old cars around that they are willing to let me take for very good prices.

However, the more I think about it and pray about it, the more I think I might buy something new. Love yourself well, I keep hearing. Expect to be blessed. You are a daughter of the Most High God. Trust.

I don't have a lot of money, but I do have a little extra after I pay the bills every month for the first time in years. Maybe I'll get a brand new little car that's very fuel efficient, that has a warranty, and that I can trust will get me where I need to go. Maybe I will.

My husband at first was really hostile to the idea. Part of his hostility is based in fear - he relies on me for his food, shelter - for everything. He is afraid that my buying a new car will affect him negatively. He gave me a long lecture when I first mentioned the idea of buying a new car, and it hurt my feelings. Also, it made me angry. The money that I'd considered using to buy a new car is my spending money. We recently came to some agreements about our finances, and we agreed that we would each have a percentage of our income that is ours to do with as we please - a percentage that he could blow on whatever he wanted. I expected that he would respect my spending money the same way, and it was frustrating when he didn't.

We talked about it last night though, and here is what he said:

I trust you. I prayed about it, and I trust that you will make the right decision about the car. I trust that you are better at making those kinds of decisions than I am, and you will do what is right. I know that in the last few years, you haven't had anything in your life that you could rely on except for God and yourself, and that's terrible for a person - especially a person who is married. I don't know anybody else who deserves more than you to have something beautiful and reliable. If you decide to buy a new car, I'll support you. If you buy it and in six months you lose your job and can't pay the bills, I'll still support you, and we'll make it work. And, I'm going to use this to remind me that I need to be more reliable for you - I'm going to become a rock in your life so that you won't ever feel afraid.

What a gift!

Psalm 119

2010-04-29T00:16:00.003-04:00

Argue my case; take my side!
Protect me as You promised.

Break away from me, evil minded people,
for I intend to obey the commands of my God.

Continually, I am overwhelmed
with a desire for Your laws.

Don't let them scorn and insult me,
for I have obeyed Your decrees.

Even princes sit and speak against me,
but I meditate on Your principles.

Falling into the deep pits my enemies dug for me
is impossible when I walk on Your straight paths.

Guide my steps by Your word,
that I may not be overcome with any evil.

Health and joy I had lost, but Your Love restored them to me.
How could I forget Your commandments now?

I cry out to You, "Save me!
That I may carry out Your decrees!"

Justice is eternal in You.
You give me back my life.

Keep me from the mercy of my enemies,
for I have done what is just and right.

Look down on me with love.
Teach me all Your principles.

My life constantly hangs in the balance,
but I will not turn from Your commandments.

Now give me the sense to follow Your commands;
You know what I need to learn.

Open my eyes to see
the wonderful truths in Your law.

Principles You give me are the music of my life,
accompanying my pilgrimage.

Quiet my cries, oh Lord;
give me the discerning mind You promised.

Revive me by Your word
when I lie in dust, completely discouraged.

Sustain me with the joy of Your law;
I would have died in my misery without You.

Though the wicked hide along the way to kill me,
I will quietly keep my mind on Your law.

Unfailing Lover of my soul, spare my life!
Then I can continue to obey Your decrees.

Venom came from the mouths of my enemies,
but I would not turn from Your way.

Where will I go without Your word?
It is a lamp for my feet, a light for my path.

Xeric lands surrounded me,
but Your decrees were water.

Your laws remain true today,
for everything serves Your plans.

Zion will praise you, oh Lord,
for You have taught her Your salvation.

Pets. Ants. God.

2010-04-26T23:11:00.004-04:00

I'd been feeling a little stupid over the last few weeks about hanging out with God. God is awfully big. As I'd think of approaching Him, I'd picture myself running up and only being able to see this tiny portion of a very, very big toe. I mean, I can't even see the toenail! If I look up, all I see is huge and far away. What good might it do to approach Someone so infinite? And wouldn't I run the risk of being accidentally squished by some divine misstep?

It was an image that was amusing, but also somewhat paralyzing. In bad times, I don't have trouble reaching out to God, to friends, to anyone. I'd rather be squished than left to my own devices...but when things are going well, it just seemed all too risky.

I've been praying about it, though, and talking to folks, and making an effort to set aside some genuine God time, in spite of myself. So often, my desires follow my actions. I've seen how well discipline works in my marriage, in recovery, and in all kinds of other relationships.

When I pray in my home, I'm never far away from an animal. There are four animals living in a house with three people. Frequently, as I'm sitting and listening, a cat will come and paw at my face. A dog will collapse its head into my lap with a big sigh, lick my hand in absent-minded adoration, and wait until I can pet it with my full attention.

I have this marvelous orange cat. I've had her for about a year and a half. I found her, a tiny kitten, in a gutter when my husband and I had separated because I'd reached a breaking point around his drug use. I was sad, but firm in my boundaries, and the kitten was a great comfort to me during the month that my husband didn't live at home with me. I'd find myself weeping, and the kitten would come to sit on my chest and stare at me. I'd giggle. It was as if God were saying, "I know you're sad, but here: look at this kitten." It worked, at least in the moment, to help me get through the grief.

This orange cat, though, has a huge mean streak. She might be in your lap, purring luxuriously one minute, and the next, she'll screech in your direction and slap you in the face. It's completely unpredictable. She's a testy, strange cat who grew up in a home with a pit bull, an absentee father, and a neurotic mother. She probably needs Al-Anon.

Sometimes, when I pray with her in my lap, and I stroke her soft fur and admire her pink nose and think of how wonderful it is to have her in my house, what a pleasure it is to feed her and give her water and small treats and toys, I wonder if God feels something like what I feel for her when He looks at me. When she scratches my face and runs away to hide under the stairs, imagining that I can't see her, and only comes back out hours later to twist around my ankles when she is hungry, I am pretty sure that she is teaching me how it feels to be God in this relationship we're having.

I think, too, of how I've always loved ants. My whole life, I've had an abundant empathy for animals and bugs and plants and every creature. It has lead to a life of vegetarianism and marrying addicts and alcoholics. "Every single being is sacred and deserves a chance at life!" screams my heart. So I trap spiders in coffee cups and toss them outside where they can be free to be creepy off my turf. I redirect ants out the door when they attempt to colonize my cupboards with a trail of honey or raw sugar. I beg my husband not to kill roaches, and I bring home every stray animal I find. In Christianese, I might say, "I have a heart" for animals.

If I, then, who am evil, know how to give the good gift of life to ants and cockroaches and caterpillars...if I will stoop to set them free, to appreciate their meager desire to go about their business...how much more must the Creator of the Universe care for me! How much more must He want to scoop me up and set me free!

Here's What I Learned.

2010-04-21T17:56:00.004-04:00

I took a lot of time today to fast and pray about why I enjoy working for God and talking about God and advising other people about their relationships with God so much, but I have a hard time spending time with Him on my own. I didn't find much clarity about what keeps me from Him, but I did get some clarity about what the consequences of failing to show up for my side of the relationship.

Here's what I heard:

Your relationship with me is like an ATM. You can only take out what you put into your account.

Well, then.

I wonder will time.

2010-04-15T23:41:00.003-04:00

I wonder will time close the wound. Time is my enemy lately. Tonight, we went to an A.A. meeting. Around this time last year, my husband said he'd never go to another A.A. meeting.

He'd started going, full of hope and promises and early sobriety and love, and he did really well for several months. He got a sponsor and worked the first three steps. He got to the fourth step, and he made it so far as to write a list of the people he resented and the things they'd done to him. Then, he stopped. His sponsor moved away. He got angry - not at his sponsor. At himself, or God, or me.

It was Spring and there were flowers everywhere. I thought the worst was over.

He told me he wasn't going back to A.A. anymore. He said it wasn't right for him. Perhaps it's not right. Within a few weeks, he was sleeping with another woman.

I'd thought the worst was over, and it wasn't.

This thought is what keeps me restless lately. My husband is lovely. He is growing in so many ways. We are growing together. I have hope. I feel like the worst might be over. It is Spring. There are flowers everywhere. It is so familiar I can smell it, and I become paralyzed with fear.

I do not trust my husband. I become silly, and I do not trust God. I am afraid. I wonder will every Spring be so bittersweet, or if there will be healing. I don't want to feel unsteady when I smell wisteria. I don't want to be struck by each passing day, marking every time my husband touches me as a portent of something painful that is coming, sensing the sensuality in the air as a threat.

We took a walk together tonight as the sun was setting, and we passed a dead bird on the sidewalk, its folded wings stained with pollen. There were purple flower petals all around it, where the wisteria is falling off the vine. Last year, my husband had built me a swing. He was working in the garden. He'd planted a wisteria vine on the arbor over the swing. He knew I love that flower.

He brought home orchids, and then, one day, they disappeared. He'd given them to another girl. These nights are like cut diamonds, a different sheen on every facet. I feel small and tossed about. Running into the presence of a God so big seems strange and far away.

It didn't on those nights, though, last May, when I clung to my God like the last leaf on the branch. I fit so much better in a crisis, like old shoes.

Precious Harvest.

2010-04-15T00:22:00.003-04:00

"Consider the farmers who eagerly look for the rains in the fall and in the spring. They patiently wait for the precious harvest to ripen."

-James 5:8

We learn this waiting on God business in recovery. It's a maddening thing to have to learn. It would be much easier if God's timeline would speed up a bit. The precious harvest of a sober, gainfully employed, affectionate husband has been awfully slow to ripen, and it has taken some time to become patient.

I have become more patient, though, and I've felt the rough edges of myself being softened in the experience. If I am honest with myself, too, I can recognize that there isn't much else in the world that could have taught me patience. My love for my husband has been a force that has carried me places against my will, and nothing else in my life has been able to stand up to my will.

My whole life, if there's been a thing I wanted, I'd get that thing. I'd work harder and do better until I accomplished whatever goal I'd set for myself. This husband business has been the first thing I couldn't do on my own, and it was the first thing that broke me down enough to learn to look outside of myself for help.

What a relief it was, too! Even in the first days of recovery, when I realized that it was not my responsibility to fix my husband! I was still impatient that this Higher Power I was meant to trust with my husband and my will and my life would get to work a bit quicker, but from the first time I heard the language of the first three of the twelve steps, I felt the first stirrings of peace in my soul:

Admitted we were powerless over the addict, and our lives had become unmanageable.
Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

Somebody else was in charge! Hallelujah! I didn't know who it was yet, but I knew it didn't have to be me. I wasn't yet sure that it couldn't be me, but I was certainly relieved that it didn't have to be.

My God is a gentleman. He moves slowly and surely, and He is careful to do things the right way. If I look at my life from the big picture, though, my husband's recovery and the restoration of our marriage has been miraculously quick. We've only been married four years, and the falling apart and subsequent rebuilding has taken place in that short time.

(And the hopeful tenor of those last few sentences scares me...What if now is the next before time? What if the very next painful thing is coming?)

No matter what, though, I am learning to look eagerly for the rains in the fall and in the spring. I am learning to wait patiently for the precious harvest to ripen in God's time. I am learning to get out of the way so that God can do His work.