Tell Me How It Feels
So one of the characters in “Pilgrimage” is a woman who is suppressing herself, putting her life and dreams and ambitions and hopes and, self, essentially, on hold in favor of what she hopes is the greater good. She’s in a relationship that is impossible to be in and difficult to get out of. She forgets who she is, most of the time.
Here’s a difficult request, but one I’ll make anyway: women who read this blog, I’m interested in your input, your perspective, and your stories, if you’ve ever felt like this character or been in a similar situation. I’ve been there, and I’m not sure there’s a gender difference when it comes to emotional traps, but I don’t want to assume there isn’t, either. So I’d like the female perspective.
Use pseudonyms and be anonymous if you want. I really appreciate the help. I think the book will be better for it.
3 Responses to “Tell Me How It Feels”
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Obligation versus freedom - it can be an awkward mix. I know that I used to go overboard trying to help my family out, but I’ve found that standing back and letting nature take its course can sometimes be better. If all that you getting from your hard work is pain then it is time to step back and question why it is the outcome. You should see if the end goal is worth it.
I’ve seen my oldest sister get mentally abused by her husband while her hurt their oldest girl. She was eventually strong enough to end the relationship but the pain is still there. She made a choice to move away from a destructive relationship and is a stronger and happier woman because of it. I’m proud of her.
Yes, I’m a mother and so OF COURSE have suppressed myself. It sounds like the typical moan/groan of motherhood, but there is truth to it. Having been blessed with two sons that I *did not* plan for at the time of their conception, my life completely changed. Immediate sacrifice is necessary for their well-being in uterero, such as quitting smoking, caffeine, alcohol, hair dye, nail polish, and yes… even roller coasters (ZOMG!). Once you manage that initial sacrifice, you are on the road to further sacrifice. Giving up the dream of college and instead getting a paycheck. Hurrying down the aisle with someone you LOVE, but don’t know if the patterns of unreliability and wandering eye are something you would have considered as acceptable in a life mate if the baby weren’t beginning to show and Daddy wasn’t insistent on a marriage to legitimize his grandchild. And I’m talking the 1990’s, not the 1960’s by the way.
It was a happy marriage that I was committed to. We laughed a lot. My parents stayed together when they shouldn’t have for my benefit. How could I do less? So I overlooked the 20+ job changes he had over 9 years, the bankruptcy, the foreclosure, having to move in with my folks three times and his folks twice because all the job changes and instability made it tough to pay bills on time, as you can imagine, even with my salary.
Then the inevitable outlawing of alcohol for the admitted alcoholic. This was the day I came home from the hospital with my second child. He got so drunk in celebrating that he blacked out, doesn’t remember the rage that caused him to break a snow globe and a dresser door in the nursery. When he vowed to quit, I vowed to stay. Three years later, he walked out on us, and of course there was a case of beer in the back of his car as he did. (I always said the other woman he left us for was Coors Light.) Because my sons missed their daddy so much, I tried reconciling with him twice. Both times he tried in earnest until I relented, then … well, lets just say it failed. I had spent a good part of a decade twisting myself around to be all the things he said he *needed* to be happy in a marriage. I couldn’t even recognize myself by the end of it. I had been strong, bold, creative, confident.. no longer. It took my years to really find myself again and to have the confidence to reach out to another man, I was afraid to get lost again. I think the first step in finding myself again was in ME looking at my ex and knowing how toxic he was for me, trying to justify all the changes I would have to further make, including allowing the alcohol from a man that could not handle it, preparing to take a deep breath and submerge again to allow my kids to have their daddy back. All of a sudden I realized that just because he was their dad didn’t mean it was the best thing for them to have him live with us, the same things that made him a lousy husband also made him a lousy father. I decided to end the reconciliation based on the realization and have never regretted that decision. It is six years later now, and I’ve tried to figure out why I compromised so much to keep it together. He wasn’t cruel in the classic sense, no beatings or anything like that. In a very subtle fashion, probably without realizing they were doing it, I spend all those years being told by his family that I wasn’t good enough for them (his dad was a Lt. Col, my dad was a sergeant), and I knew they were wrong, but I started to believe it anyways. So what’s a little sacrifice? Besides, after awhile you don’t even know you are doing it. It takes perspective and distance to see that you are lost, it’s not something you just know in your day-to-day, in my experience. You don’t think to yourself, “Today I’ve got to bundle up the kids and run errands, do some laundry, have sex with husband who doesn’t talk to you and smells of alcohol because you are scared he will leave you and the kids, drive by the college that you aren’t going to but don’t look at it and it won’t bug you.” No, you don’t see it then. You see it later. When you are packing up your things and look around and see hardly anything that reflects who you are, and realize you don’t want most of the things in the house, they aren’t things you’d pick out for yourself. Little things, like a comforter you can’t stand or the jewelery box given by your ex’s mother. They don’t know you, so how could it be something you like?
The biggest sacrifice I make is now extremely clear to me. My ex and I have both remarried, and he has had two additional children. He can’t afford any of them, not even mine. I mean that literally, not sarcastically by the way. He calls once a month or so to assert his ownership of the boys over my VERY understanding husband. The boys visit him twice a year, and he makes it the very cliche “fun” time that non-custodial parents are prone to. In spite of his behavior, lack of interest in the kids, selfishness, and immaturity, I have never said a bad word to the boys about their father. I am the one that reassures them that he loves them, and in spite of how I feel about him and his parenting, it rolls off the tongue without hesitation or thought because that is what my kids need: to be loved by both of their parents. I do this in spite of what he says to them about me and my husband. He is very bitter that my husband picks up the slack for his failure to pay child support for the last two years. He is even MORE bitter that I am finally attending college, and that we are doing so well as his marriage falls apart. He is a bitter and selfish man, small in his thinking and in his execution of parenthood. I don’t let me kids suffer for my bad decision making skills at the age of 20. I do whatever it takes to make it right for them. My oldest son has already learned a good portion about his dad, and now knows what kind of man he is. I let him find that out for himself, as I will let my younger son discover through no word or action of mine. They deserve to come to that conclusion when they can noodle through it for themselves. In the meantime, we send cards and pictures, and I accommodate his horrible family in their requests to see the kids. I do it all for my kids, but I don’t think I’m lost anymore. I know exactly what I’m suppressing for the greater good. My ability to never speak to those horrible and insulting people ever again vs. having my kids receive love from the entire family, not just my side. It’s an easy choice really, to allow your kids to be surrounded in love. No big deal really, to deal with their barbs and innuendos, although it does get me really upset sometimes, it’s a price worth paying.
So that is the (possibly) relevant overview of my story. In actually writing this much down, I have to think that it was not just sacrifice for my kids that made me swallow so much of myself and hide it away. It was also wanting to be accepted by people that thought they were better than me. And probably fear of being alone mixed in for good measure. But I have to stress.. I didn’t KNOW I was doing it, it was small little things one after another, and before I knew it, I was gone.
My husband sent me this link, I’ve not read any of your writings, but he enjoys your work. Best of luck with Pilgrimage. It’s fascinating to me that a man would write on such a subject, and I wish you well.
You know my story. It is as the person before me wrote…’little by little until I disappeared’. One thing different, I NEVER felt that I was sacrificing myself for my children. They were and continue to be the greatest gift life has given to me! I find it very interesting that you are writing about a woman who represents so many millions of women; so many generations of women. If you want more detail please email me as I can’t seem to post it all here. I think it is wonderful that you are working on Pilgrimage…you know I am and always have been your biggest fan.