I spoke to David yesterday about my decision to file for divorce. We are approaching our 34th wedding anniversary. The conversation went as expected, for the most part, David agreed that, all things considered, it is in my best interest to divorce him and marry Jim. We both agreed that the legalities do not change feelings of the heart; we still love each other and always will. But, the way life has unfolded, living together as a married couple is not an option. We did not get along, living together, because we both triggered in each other unresolved childhood issues that resulted in both of us always acting as the hurt, wounded children. I played the victim and David played the victimizer. While we may have matured since then, there are now additional factors to consider. It would be wrong to hurt Leah and Jim; they are both undeserving of the heartache it would cause if we left them. But most importantly, it is vital that I stay here with Damien and Ada. I do that for them and I do that for Christina. It is not so much an obligation as it is a commitment of the heart. It is what I MUST do.
And so, somewhat tearfully, we agreed that although I do not want to divorce him, and he does not want to divorce me, divorce appears to be the most logical option. I need to think of my future since it is statistically likely that I will out-live both David and Jim. By marrying Jim, I will be entitled to Survivor Benefits from him, but having been married for more than 10 years to David, I will be entitled to HIS survivor benefits as well.
We talked, David and I, about the potential our relationship had. We agonized over the mistakes we made, wishing with all of our heart and soul that we could go back in time, knowing what we now know, so that we could make better decisions. We were so young. And so many times, we settled. And we failed to put the kids' needs ahead of our own.
If only I had been back then who I am today. If only. And now, because of the mistakes we made, I must file for divorce. Because it doesn't look like I'm going to get my Master's degree as planned, I must formulate a Survival Plan B. I'm not getting any younger. Truly, my life has fallen apart (perhaps that happened a long, long time ago); and now I must live among the shattered and tattered pieces...the remnants of a life.
What Jim does for me - the extent of his provisions - is more than I've ever had and I don't want to dare minimize what he has done for me and mine. I love him enough to be his wife. But there is no head-over-heels feeling of "I can't live without him." There is no sparkle in my eyes because of him. I love him more as a companion than as a lover. But I DO love him. And he treats me and mine better than I have ever been treated in terms of provisions and in terms of emotional and intellectual respect. He doesn't degrade me. We don't fight or argue. And if I want or need something, I get it. For all of that, I am truly grateful.
I hold two rather large grudges against Jim, but because they go back to when we were first together, I remind myself that he was in a different place. I try to forgive and I will certainly never forget. The first grudge involves the date rape that he orchestrated. I believe I was drugged in addition to being intoxicated. I believe his friend stole my turquoise ring. But even worse, I know I was raped - and Jim orchestrated it and he watched. Christina never forgave him for that. Nor have I. The other grudge involves the car accident; it nearly killed me. Christina never forgave him for that either - and neither have I. But it brought that whole lifestyle to a halt. And it gave me leverage. It put us in a better place, in my opinion, because sitting in bars is no longer an option. It just won't ever happen again.
Anyway, David and I resolved to move ahead with the divorce, knowing that it will not change matters of the heart. I will always love him and he will always love me. And we both agreed that I need to be here for Damien and Ada. And, therefore, this is how it will be. But we agreed that our love will survive, til death do we part.
Wednesday, April 26, 2017
Monday, April 24, 2017
I Do, Again
It's been eleven years since I walked out on my marriage and then subsequently became involved with Jim. Eleven years. And still, I am Mrs. Stone.
I've often been questioned why I've not filed for a divorce, especially recently. My rationale has not been fully accepted by those who have questioned me.
First of all, I tell them, I am divorced from the marriage emotionally and have been for a very long time. I do not need a legal decree to tell me the marriage is over. You can be married long before you ever say "I Do" and you can be divorced long before you ever even consult with a divorce lawyer.
But, then in a somewhat contradictory rationale, I explain that I do not want to divorce David simply because I believe it is my right to remain Mrs. Stone. I put my heart and soul into that marriage. It's mine. Four of my kids were brought into this world through that marriage. And at first, there was love. I loved David with my whole heart and I believe he loved me too. And yet, even from the very start of our relationship, our personalities - our hurt, wounded, traumatized Children Within - mixed and mingled to create the Perfect Storm: his warm front and my cold front. Two opposing forces doomed to catastrophe.
Together, we did so much damage: to each other and to our children. I'm trying so hard to forgive. Most of the time, I am able to say that I have forgiven David; but sometimes, when I think back to some of the shit he did, I still get really pissed off and realize I still hold a grudge. I have not forgiven him completely for "those things he did." I understand them intellectually - that he was just the sum of his parts and could do or be nothing different that who he was. I get that. But the effect it had on me and the kids - I guess I have not completely forgiven him.
I also explain that I cannot divorce David because I still love him and believe I always will. But then I quickly point out that my love for him is not romantic; instead, I think of him as family - like a sibling, perhaps. We spent so many years together and there is no one on this planet that I feel more comfortable with. He is the only other person around whom I can let my hair down, show my true colors, and simply be me.
And in spite of that, we've been apart for eleven years now.
And in spite of that or perhaps because of all that, I am now looking for a divorce lawyer and have told Jim that yes, I will marry him.
There were so many reasons why I did not want to marry Jim. Yes, I love him, but I did not want to marry him. First of all, he has always pushed me to marry him so that, when he dies, I will get his social security survivor benefits. Well, that is not a reason to marry. Or is it? It's practical, for sure. But I did not want to marry him on those terms or it could be forever held over my head that I married him just for the financial benefits. And besides, I did not earn his money; I earned David's money and want those survivor benefits. Yet, both David and Jim say that is not practical and that I would get more from Jim than David simply because Jim's earnings were greater. But, as I understand it, that is not quite how Social Security works these days. That's a gripe for another day.
I did not want to marry Jim because I always believed that he belongs first and foremost to Cheryl. Therefore, as a decision of respect for Cheryl, I believed that she should be the only Mrs. James Grutzius. But Jim says they discussed that long before she died and they both agreed that, should one of them die, the other should move forward, find happiness, and remarry if they should find love again. Although I did not know Cheryl, I have to trust that she would've said this. She knew Jim. She knew he would need to be married to survive.
I also have hesitated to marry Jim because of his drinking. Yes, alcoholic drinking. Daily drinking. He is a functional alcoholic. That will not change. My tolerance for it is virtually non-existent but I was duly warned from the start. Still, it is because I know the real Jim, the Jim who exists beneath the alcoholism, I know that he is a genuinely good, loving person who always means well and just wants to be loved - and because of knowing that part of him, I love him and I love him enough to marry him.
I guess one other reason I did not want to marry Jim is because I like my name! I like being Ruth Stone better than Ruth Grutzius. People don't know how to pronounce Grutzius and I prefer a simple, easy to read, spell, and pronounce kind of name. I like that my name is the same as four of my kids. And all my records are in the Stone name. I do not want any other name. I want to remain Ruth Stone. I might have to hyphenate...
So I told Jim "yes." I told him I would file for divorce and marry him. It's been eleven years. The marriage will change virtually nothing. My feelings - for David and for Jim - will remain what they are now. I will marry Jim because it is important to him; he will feel a greater sense of security. I get that. And he deserves that. And I love him enough to marry him. In that regard, saying "I do" changes nothing. Nothing at all.
I've often been questioned why I've not filed for a divorce, especially recently. My rationale has not been fully accepted by those who have questioned me.
First of all, I tell them, I am divorced from the marriage emotionally and have been for a very long time. I do not need a legal decree to tell me the marriage is over. You can be married long before you ever say "I Do" and you can be divorced long before you ever even consult with a divorce lawyer.
But, then in a somewhat contradictory rationale, I explain that I do not want to divorce David simply because I believe it is my right to remain Mrs. Stone. I put my heart and soul into that marriage. It's mine. Four of my kids were brought into this world through that marriage. And at first, there was love. I loved David with my whole heart and I believe he loved me too. And yet, even from the very start of our relationship, our personalities - our hurt, wounded, traumatized Children Within - mixed and mingled to create the Perfect Storm: his warm front and my cold front. Two opposing forces doomed to catastrophe.
Together, we did so much damage: to each other and to our children. I'm trying so hard to forgive. Most of the time, I am able to say that I have forgiven David; but sometimes, when I think back to some of the shit he did, I still get really pissed off and realize I still hold a grudge. I have not forgiven him completely for "those things he did." I understand them intellectually - that he was just the sum of his parts and could do or be nothing different that who he was. I get that. But the effect it had on me and the kids - I guess I have not completely forgiven him.
I also explain that I cannot divorce David because I still love him and believe I always will. But then I quickly point out that my love for him is not romantic; instead, I think of him as family - like a sibling, perhaps. We spent so many years together and there is no one on this planet that I feel more comfortable with. He is the only other person around whom I can let my hair down, show my true colors, and simply be me.
And in spite of that, we've been apart for eleven years now.
And in spite of that or perhaps because of all that, I am now looking for a divorce lawyer and have told Jim that yes, I will marry him.
There were so many reasons why I did not want to marry Jim. Yes, I love him, but I did not want to marry him. First of all, he has always pushed me to marry him so that, when he dies, I will get his social security survivor benefits. Well, that is not a reason to marry. Or is it? It's practical, for sure. But I did not want to marry him on those terms or it could be forever held over my head that I married him just for the financial benefits. And besides, I did not earn his money; I earned David's money and want those survivor benefits. Yet, both David and Jim say that is not practical and that I would get more from Jim than David simply because Jim's earnings were greater. But, as I understand it, that is not quite how Social Security works these days. That's a gripe for another day.
I did not want to marry Jim because I always believed that he belongs first and foremost to Cheryl. Therefore, as a decision of respect for Cheryl, I believed that she should be the only Mrs. James Grutzius. But Jim says they discussed that long before she died and they both agreed that, should one of them die, the other should move forward, find happiness, and remarry if they should find love again. Although I did not know Cheryl, I have to trust that she would've said this. She knew Jim. She knew he would need to be married to survive.
I also have hesitated to marry Jim because of his drinking. Yes, alcoholic drinking. Daily drinking. He is a functional alcoholic. That will not change. My tolerance for it is virtually non-existent but I was duly warned from the start. Still, it is because I know the real Jim, the Jim who exists beneath the alcoholism, I know that he is a genuinely good, loving person who always means well and just wants to be loved - and because of knowing that part of him, I love him and I love him enough to marry him.
I guess one other reason I did not want to marry Jim is because I like my name! I like being Ruth Stone better than Ruth Grutzius. People don't know how to pronounce Grutzius and I prefer a simple, easy to read, spell, and pronounce kind of name. I like that my name is the same as four of my kids. And all my records are in the Stone name. I do not want any other name. I want to remain Ruth Stone. I might have to hyphenate...
So I told Jim "yes." I told him I would file for divorce and marry him. It's been eleven years. The marriage will change virtually nothing. My feelings - for David and for Jim - will remain what they are now. I will marry Jim because it is important to him; he will feel a greater sense of security. I get that. And he deserves that. And I love him enough to marry him. In that regard, saying "I do" changes nothing. Nothing at all.
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Isolated Recluse
I was recently told by my therapist that I am too isolated and that I need to be more social. She thinks I need to have friends - not just family - with whom I spend time with. I told her that although I used to be very social and always had one or two close friends and then a myriad of social acquaintances, that I no longer do - and that I'm okay with that. I told her that socializing just doesn't seem to be worth the effort. I told her that I don't ever feel lonely or bored and that spending time, even with people I like, is both physically and emotionally draining.
I like people; I really do. And truth is, when I DO spend time with people, I enjoy it. I always walk away feeling happy, even though, paradoxically, it can also be draining. So while I may welcome an unexpected visit or a social event that I absolutely must attend, I do not make the effort to socialize. Not like when I was younger; and I suspect this change in my social efforts happened after Christina died. Maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe it is the result of her death. Either way, I just don't do it any more; and I'm okay with that.
Today was a perfect example of how I have changed, socially. Today I had to take to of my grand children to their gymnastics and ninja classes. While I was sitting in the balcony with all the other parents, a woman came in. A mom of one of the students. She immediately captured my attention because she dressed like me, right down to her jewelry, purse, and shoes. In fact, had it not been for the obvious difference in her dress size, I would say that it looked like she had gone through my closet, jewelry collection, shoes, and purses to put her outfit together. She wore a long black dress with a denim jacket. I wore the exact same outfit just a few days ago. She carried what I call a Boho bag for a purse, as did I.
Now, if I was today who I used to be years ago, I would have approached her, intrigued by our similarities. I would have been certain that because of our outward similarities, that we would likely share many other commonalities. We would likely be birds of a feather, members of the same tribe, on the same wavelength, sisters in spirit. But today, although captivated by our similarities, I declined the inclination to approach her with, "oh I love your purse...I have a few like that" or perhaps with "that necklace you're wearing is pretty and I have one that is similar" all with the hopes of triggering a conversation that would lead to disclosures that would confirm my suspicion that we had things in common. Today, I declined. Why? Why would that be?
I guess I felt like, what's the point? I felt like the effort would take more energy than I wanted to expend. I thought it could end with an inevitable request to share phone numbers which I do not want to do because then that involves commitment. It means it could lead to the kind of relationship that requires meeting for coffee, going shopping together, telling each other our life stories, and I just don't want to do all that. I'm content in my bubble with just me.
Pondering my reluctance to socialize, I also wondered about my inclination to befriend only those women who, on outward appearance, remind me of only myself. Do I do this because I'm looking for common traits between us? Or, am I a conceited narcissist who loves only myself? How healthy is that??
Yes, there was a time when I would've jumped at the opportunity to make a new friend. There was a time when I would have seen our outward similarities as a type of validation - that there really ARE others who are like me. But now, at this point in my life, I simply do not care; I no longer need the validation. I am who I am, like me or not; I care only that I like myself. And that I like my solitary bubble. Why? Why would that be?
I like people; I really do. And truth is, when I DO spend time with people, I enjoy it. I always walk away feeling happy, even though, paradoxically, it can also be draining. So while I may welcome an unexpected visit or a social event that I absolutely must attend, I do not make the effort to socialize. Not like when I was younger; and I suspect this change in my social efforts happened after Christina died. Maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe it is the result of her death. Either way, I just don't do it any more; and I'm okay with that.
Today was a perfect example of how I have changed, socially. Today I had to take to of my grand children to their gymnastics and ninja classes. While I was sitting in the balcony with all the other parents, a woman came in. A mom of one of the students. She immediately captured my attention because she dressed like me, right down to her jewelry, purse, and shoes. In fact, had it not been for the obvious difference in her dress size, I would say that it looked like she had gone through my closet, jewelry collection, shoes, and purses to put her outfit together. She wore a long black dress with a denim jacket. I wore the exact same outfit just a few days ago. She carried what I call a Boho bag for a purse, as did I.
Now, if I was today who I used to be years ago, I would have approached her, intrigued by our similarities. I would have been certain that because of our outward similarities, that we would likely share many other commonalities. We would likely be birds of a feather, members of the same tribe, on the same wavelength, sisters in spirit. But today, although captivated by our similarities, I declined the inclination to approach her with, "oh I love your purse...I have a few like that" or perhaps with "that necklace you're wearing is pretty and I have one that is similar" all with the hopes of triggering a conversation that would lead to disclosures that would confirm my suspicion that we had things in common. Today, I declined. Why? Why would that be?
I guess I felt like, what's the point? I felt like the effort would take more energy than I wanted to expend. I thought it could end with an inevitable request to share phone numbers which I do not want to do because then that involves commitment. It means it could lead to the kind of relationship that requires meeting for coffee, going shopping together, telling each other our life stories, and I just don't want to do all that. I'm content in my bubble with just me.
Pondering my reluctance to socialize, I also wondered about my inclination to befriend only those women who, on outward appearance, remind me of only myself. Do I do this because I'm looking for common traits between us? Or, am I a conceited narcissist who loves only myself? How healthy is that??
Yes, there was a time when I would've jumped at the opportunity to make a new friend. There was a time when I would have seen our outward similarities as a type of validation - that there really ARE others who are like me. But now, at this point in my life, I simply do not care; I no longer need the validation. I am who I am, like me or not; I care only that I like myself. And that I like my solitary bubble. Why? Why would that be?
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