"From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines, going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me."
Walt Whitman (1819-92)
"When I look back now over my life and call to mind what I might have had simply for taking and did not take, my heart is like to break."
Akhenaton (d. c.1354 BC)
And now, the current weather, from some random person we pulled off the street:
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
fault Function: noun Etymology: Middle English faute, from Middle French, from (assumed) Vulgar Latin fallita, from feminine of fallitus, past participle of Latin fallere to deceive, disappoint 1 a : WEAKNESS, FAILING; especially : a moral weakness less serious than a vice b : a physical or intellectual imperfection or impairment : DEFECT c : an error especially in service in a net or racket game 2 : a fracture in the crust of a planet 3 : not mine.
I wanted this entry to be about the time when my wife and I met, which is a good story.
But my last 30 or so hours were so far from a good story, and so unexpected, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I've had my own personal earthquake, and I'm still not sure if I survived or not.
In short, out of the blue, my wife told me yesterday that our marriage was over. The reason? The house was too cluttered. Yes, you read that exactly right.
Talk about unexpected.
I've invested over 20 years in this marriage and the relationship. We never argue. I have always treated her well. It's not two months since I surprised her with flowers. There's guys out there who abuse their wives and they get to stay married.
And here I am, a victim of a too cluttered spare guest room and the occasional load of laundry.
Frankly, I don't think I'm at fault. And that's what hurts.
The real problem here is far different. It's all about her and her pride and her refusal to get help when she needs it. She has been deteriorating for months since her hysterectomy both mentally and physically. She would not see a doctor, since she had concluded they would not know what was wrong with her. At least physically, since she would never admit the mood problems.
And add to this a very traumatic thing that happened about 15 years ago to her that really needed (and still desparately needs!) some intense therapy, and she refused it and carries the disfunction to this day.
Through it all, I've hung in there. The vow says "for better or for worse" and that's what the coach called me in to play.
When I pointed that out to her, her response was that "some vows need to be broken."
Many cruel and mean things were said. All by her. All atom bombs. And all meant to be.
I was a hair's breath from having to go back to the hospital during all of this, since as could be expected I had blown through all my meds.
Net result was that I got her to agree to go see a therapist. We'll see where it all goes.
That is, if I survive the trip.
In the last four years, I've lost my health, my job, and now may lose my family. I deserved not one iota of this. And I'm out of things to lose.
The name of Job comes to mind.
I am staggered. I keep thinking I will awaken from this. And I keep thinking that if this is the waking day, do I want to live in it? What steps are ahead from here?
A great marriage is not when the 'perfect couple' comes together. It is when an imperfect couple learns to enjoy their differences. --Dave Meurer, "Daze of Our Wives"