…you can trust me, baby…
The moon pulsed through a deep layer of marine mist that blanketed the Calmmune. It was after midnight. The casement window in my bedroom was wide open, a breeze cooled by the ocean drifted in. Our bodies pressed against each other, his arm protectively draped over my shoulder. His gentle breath warmed my ear. Then he started to breathe heavy, from the gut. I felt his grip tighten on my shoulder. The sound of the air being forced out of his mouth was dragging me from my dream. I smiled as I came to. And then, without a second to spare, I demonstrated cat-like reflexes, out of total necessity.
I was going up against a cat.
High Maintenance Kitty was half a hurl from throwing up all over my head.
With one arm, the one he was balancing on as I lay on my side, I threw him off the bed. A trail of half-digested cat food spewed from his mouth in a stream that missed my body but nailed the bed and two pairs of high heels on the floor.
I can see it now…having a romantic evening with HMK in the room is going to be like making out with your date while your little brother hangs over the back of the couch coughing up phlegm balls courtesy of the petri dish that is elementary school.
HMK thinks he owns me. Remember, he once attacked my former spouse just days after I learned of the extent of his affair. This cat is my bodyguard, and then some. I had a date last weekend. When he walked in the house HMK hunched his shoulders and stared him down. I saw his lip quiver in disgust. The idea of a blended family involving HMK would require a brave, brave man.
After cleaning up, I sketched out sliding barn door plans in my head as I drifted back to sleep. It’s time to have a door on my loft bedroom. Someday, there will be a need for it. I hope.
After acknowledging that I’d lost ground, allowing make believe conversations to swirl in my head, thoughts of heading to divorce court firing up my Ego and silencing my heart, I got back to basics. The hike to the meditation shelter on the edge of Bolinas, nestled within the grounds of Commonweal (among other things, a retreat for those dealing with terminal cancer) was stunning. Muted golds and sagey purples backlit the mist that cloaked the sand cliffs. Boats fishing for salmon bobbed offshore. I walked out to the edge of a point and stretched my arms to the sky, taking in deep breaths and loudly setting them free. Then my gaze settled on the waves coming to shore. They fell forward at the edge of the Duxbury reef. Closer to land a swimming hole was created by the retreating tide. And within that hole thirty seals dove and coiled around each other, breaking off into pairs, swimming away, coming back together. They floated on their backs and then rolled over and ducked under water, eventually emerging with their noses turned up to the sky. It was as if I stumbled upon a nudist colony taking a midday swim – they frolicked in their private, albeit chilly, oasis.
Slowly, I was able to free myself from bits of the tangled mesh of Ego driven emotions that were born out of events over which I had no control. It was labor. And I was only partly succeeding.
I climbed down a small ravine and made my way up the other side. Pt. Reyes burst off the coast, out into the ocean. A gust of wind blew my hair across my face, obscuring my view, and cooling my hot flash. I turned my back to the water and ventured inland to find the shelter.
The door was open to the small building that appears as a miniature one-room schoolhouse. I could see white lilies in a vase on the floor against the back wall. I ducked inside. A small window faces the ocean. To the left is a low table covered with rocks and seashells, many inscribed with messages to those who have ascended, leaving the planet behind. The floor is covered with a woven sand-colored rug. Light comes through the open door, the window and the small, horizontal spaces that exist between each plank of wood stacked one above another to create the walls that hold the roof. Pieces of sea glass are wedged in between the planks here and there. The vase of flowers is surrounded by written messages of love, sadness, gratitude.
I sat facing the ocean, legs crossed, and began to breathe. To each thought that came about something over which I had no control I expressed that I would be of no help. They drifted on. I called in my Mom. And for the first time since she died I asked for her help.
She never stopped being a Mom, even when filled to the brim with cancer. Even to those who were well beyond needing maternal guidance and were not her children, she would dish out her wisdom. We often laughed at the continuous flow of suggestions she would provide, along with restructuring our spoken sentences so that they were grammatically correct.
Oh my goodness, I miss her. She always knew the right (morally, spiritually, emotionally) thing to say.
I need your help, Mom. I need you pulling for me so that I make the right choices. Say the right words.
The scent of lilies filled my nose as I pulled in each breath. With eyelids closed, I turned my eyes to the sky, looked through my third eye and saw her face – her smile so big and broad, her eyes like upside down crescent moons; I smelled her.
And then something fell. The sound of rock on glass startled me. My eyes popped open. I looked to the vase surrounded by rocks and sea shells for the source of the sound. It all looked as it did before. My eyes scanned the back wall as they went up to the ceiling. There were rocks and sea glass placed here and there, none precariously so.
I looked to the left, out the door. And there, sitting twenty feet away, was a Steller Jay, a bird as blue as the waters that wrap around a tropical island. She was framed by the door, backed by cliffs and coastal evergreens that seem to have inspired Dr. Seuss. She looked at me, I at her.
Thank you, I whispered.
She turned and bounced along the ground before flying up and out of sight.
I didn’t feel alone.
There are a thousand reasons to be happy for my Mom. I’ve used those as an excuse to refuse to acknowledge my own sadness. I don’t have parents here anymore. And I don’t have a partner to help me mourn the loss or make me feel safe when I feel alone.
Feel safe. I need to feel safe.
I felt safe with my Mom just a phone call away. If she was alive when my former spouse filed to take me to court she would have flown out on a private hospital plane if need be to sit there in the court room and give him the Nana look. The Nana look could stop WWIII. He’d be so upended his voice would sound like it did before puberty.
Alas, and I’m grateful for this, she was not here to learn of his choice. She didn’t need to feel any more anger as a result of his behavior, his choices.
Had she been here to read the email sent to me recently by his affair partner she would have said three words: Consider the source.
(I’ll give you a moment to peel yourself off the ceiling at the revelation that she sent me an email. To scold me. More on that shortly. But I’ll tell you this much: I read it twice, laughed at the bad grammar and went to bed. Then, the next day, I sent it to Ms. Pulitzer. Her reply is worthy of being permanently displayed in The Museum of Infidelity.)
And when my former spouse made thinly veiled accusations designed to make me look bad in front of The Dudes she would have said: Pray for him.
Well, get this!
He’s praying for me! He let me know in an email, the one where he denied saying anything negative about me in front of The Dudes EVER, that he prays for me every day. He prays that I’ll find love and peace.
There isn’t a crock big enough…
He also said he’s a great Dad. And I’m a good Mom. Now, I can assure you that he would say he meant NOTHING by using great to describe him and good to describe me, but that’s bulls…tuff. Because he also said in that email that he chooses his words with extraordinary care.
In the grand scheme of all things an adulterous spouse can do to hurt his former wife, this stuff doesn’t really rank. It hurt…but then I got it all back into perspective with three simple words: Consider the source.
I know who he is. I was married to him for 15 years. No one knows him better. As my Mom would also say, Nothing he does should surprise you, honey.
My anger raged after the Tall Dude expressed his sadness about Daddy saying mean things about me. With Carrie Underwood blaring all the way to Truckee (The Dudes LOVE her…I covet her legs. Not in THAT way, silly. In the I want those muscles way.) I dug deep. Every five miles I had to remind myself – THIS IS NOT ABOUT HIM. I create my reality so I can get to the heart of issues I need to address in this lifetime.
What’s brewing here?
I couldn’t trust my former spouse in any way while married to him. Remember, he cheated on me in the first year. And lied about it. I shouldn’t have trusted Mr. Perfect Timing – it was all too Lifetime Movie. I’ve always felt more relaxed alone, because I wouldn’t have to trust someone. When I assess the risk of trusting someone now it just doesn’t seem worth it. Sure, it would be great to have a companion, to feel safe with a man. To be able to count on him. Believe him when he says, I’ve got your back. Trust that he won’t lie to me. That he’ll be honest with himself and me. But…
How can I trust someone I don’t know? After all that I’ve experienced it would seem to be lunacy to think I could feel safe in a relationship again. Screw that. I’m no fool. Date? Sure. Have deep conversations? Yep. Get intimate? Why not? Enter into a committed relationship?
I’d rather grow a third nipple.
On my forehead.
It took until Day four of the camping trip to get the message I needed.
I sat in the clearing surrounded by a guard of redwood trees. Their tops glistened in the moonlight. The massive orb had just peeked over the mountain. The Dudes turned in early after a long day of kayaking and fishing and playing with their new campground friends. I loved knowing they were snuggled up in a tent just over there. Behind me the campfire crackled. All was silent, except…
I listened for it. Still there. The second night in Plumas Eureka I picked up on a not so faint hum that vibrated in my ears. It felt like I had been to a too-loud concert. This night, on the night of the full moon, the low hum made my feet buzz, my fingers tingle. I wished someone was with me so I could say, Do you feel that? Do you hear that?
I pulled the energy up from the Earth, the hum grew louder.
And then like a friend shaking me out of a fit of self-pity I heard this:
Why don’t you trust yourself!? Huh?
I didn’t get the connection until I woke the next morning and remembered what had happened to me during the night. A shaking unlike any I’ve ever had. The Earth moved and took me with it.
Love yourself,
Cleo
I think the fact that you have to deal with your ex frequently because you have young kids, sets you back in your ability to heal and trust. You can’t just shut the door and move on. It seems as though he is the who wants to keep the drama going by badmouthing you, taking you to court to change your financial arrangement, pulling the typical narcissitic/passive aggressive bullshit so many phoney-baloney cheaters pull….he’s pryaing for you, you kept him and your mom apart, he is a GREAT DAD! He has turned himself into the REAL victim in this soap opera. Now that the affair partner has inserted herself (once again!) into a situation that is none of her business, I expect things will escalate even more. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I really think your kids need to hear at least some of the truth. They need to have a parent they can trust. If they realize that the affair is what ended the marriage, they will be more likely to take the negative things their father says about you with a grain of salt. If they can see that he isn’t the pillar of virtue he is pretending to be, he will have less power over their young minds. You can tell the truth in a gentle way that will not make them love their dad any less. Good luck in court and I can’t wait to read what the ballsy interloper had to say!
M, I am giving serious thought to your words. I hope others weigh in with their experiences. My guiding principle has been to allow The Dudes time to be children without having to deal with adult stuff. Taking that stance does make it really hard for me, while my former spouse can, as you so perfectly put it, is the pillar of virtue. This week I MUST get to the right place because I refuse to be treated this way any longer. Yet, he’s going to continue to be who he is. So it is up to me to create boundaries or some sort of block to his ability to affect me. I’ve got some plans percolating. But would LOVE guidance from the kittens. I’m done being pushed around. And he has made it such that we will never have any kind of relationship. I can’t even coparent with him anymore. He makes unilateral decisions and then notifies me of them. That’s not coparenting. So, I take that as a sign that our ‘relationship’ has been forever severed. I’ll be posting Wednesday. Thank you for taking the time to comment, M. I truly appreciate your words. Love yourself,
Cleo
He’s praying for you?? I LOVE how people who commit adultery play the “praying for you” card. My question for these folks, my former spouse included, is – how many commandments can you break and still expect to go to heaven? Having such dedicated faith does NOT seem to prevent many such folk from committing adultery, lying and stealing. Hypocrites. Revising history is part and parcel of thier MO, too. How else can they live with what they have done?. Cleo, you often talk about how people who commit adultery should not be given a pass and how it is NOT ok! That resonates with me so much. I get sickened by the deeply personal betrayal and how blase the adulterer is about x amount of years of someone’s life they have robbed. Asking for what is fair from these folks is impossible. It is a chess game, sadly, but, keep your head high. You can do this! Oh, and negotiate in this current agreement on the table that contact from the other woman is not allowed and they will be in breach if it happens. “Ain’t nobody got time for that.”
B, Exactly. He’s praying for me? First, it’s such an insulting, demeaning, condescending statement. And hugely ignorant! Not to mention bull. He’s not praying for me. His only interest in my well-being is if it improves his situation. Period. I’m FINALLY seeing this all clearly. There can be no relationship with my former spouse. What he did to me, to us, was WRONG. So I’m not going to act as if it’s all okay. That sends the message that cheating does not have consequences. I don’t want The Dudes to EVER think that’s the case. Thank you for taking the time to comment and for being here. Love yourself, Cleo
I think kids have the right to grow up with a truthful narrative of their family life. Secrets always come out, even without blogs and the internet. Cousins, friends, finding a diary, just putting 2 and 2 together….your sons will know someday. There is a decent chance they will be angry that they were left in the dark, especially since other people knew. They may be like my friend’s daughter who became close to her father’s ow and now says if she had known what an immoral woman she was, she would never have bonded with her or looked up to her as a role model. She barely speaks to her father at this point. She says finding out he wasn’t the honest, good man she thought he was is the hardest thing she has ever gone through. My friend thinks if she had been honest in an age appropriate way, things would have been different. Maybe her daughter would have worked throught the anger and disappointment over time instead of it becoming a huge drama in her teen years. If I had younger kids who didn’t alreay know, I would probably tell them that when 2 people are married they make important promises to each other, including only dating and kissing each other. When dad met ow, he decided to date her and kiss her and not tell me. I found out by accident and it really hurt me. That’s why sometimes it seems like dad and I don’t get along. I would emphasize that you both love them very much and that you will ask their father to not say mean things about you and you will not say anything about him either. I’m a big believer in people having the right to their own history. Your kids will respect you for being honest, and you will avoid future drama.
My, oh my, this post, the comment, and your Facebook questions incited strong feelings in me –
Amongst the many problems with no-fault divorce is that it allows people who have made the choice to be unfaithful and abandon their families to carry on as though their actions were not actually responsible for the demise of their marriage. In examining the history of no-fault divorce, it becomes apparent that it relieves lawyers and judges from the burden of attempting to discern what occurred to end a marriage, when previously, if a person committed adultery, it was made plain. There was a public understanding and record of the event, and while it did not exactly provide justice, it did provide a public acknowledgement of wrongdoing on behalf of the spouse who did not make that choice. As betrayed spouses, we are no longer granted this basic acknowledgement. And while it may be painful for children to hear that one parent has done this to another, I personally believe that it’s worse for children to not be granted the framework of basic human values of honesty and integrity. It’s not that I am living with my head in the sand – I know affairs happen all the time – but my contention is that, like you’ve articulated before, it’s the betrayal of the marital agreement which is the issue. If my former spouse had chosen to deal with me before beginning a relationship with another woman, that would have demonstrated a common level of respect which is never present when someone chooses an affair.
I was recently listening to a podcast of Sonia Choquette leading an event, and I was struck by her statement that a life of awareness and empowerment means “I decide.” And what that means to me is that despite what the family court counselors say, despite what lawyers and judges say, despite what the internets say, despite what my friends and family say, I decide what is right or wrong for me, and that includes how I deal with my own children though a divorce. I know I am a person of integrity, and I know that I have never said anything to my children out of spite or resentment toward my former spouse, but I was not willing to devalue myself or my relationships with them when it felt that not being open with them did that. I need to be able to be genuine in dealing with my children including when talking about their father. I’m aware this doesn’t actually answer your question about what and when to tell the Dudes, but what I’m trying to convey is that I’ve tried to be guided by what I felt in my heart was the appropriate information to share and the appropriate time to share it. I know that the common directive is to never say anything negative about the other parent, but in a co-parenting relationship with a narcissist, it becomes about lunacy and lies. My own therapist suggested that when my kids were told things that confused or bothered them by their dad, I say things like, “I’m sorry that you were told that and it sounds like it doesn’t feel good,” validating their feelings without defending myself, but when things progressed further and my former spouse became more abusive, it didn’t serve their needs not to call it what it is – it would have become tacit approval of unacceptable behavior. She also helped me to understand that sometimes allowing my genuine feelings to be expressed in the presence of my kids, like anger or grief or frustration, is actually extremely helpful for them by modeling how to move through difficult emotions. Your situation simply calls for you to say to your boys whatever your spirit tells you is right for you and trying to be in tune with what that is. I will also say that I’m sure I’ve made mistakes along the way in terms of what or how I’ve said things to them, but I know I’ve tried to do my best in a difficult situation – and there’s no manual. I parallel parent with my former spouse because that is what I can manage. I want the lowest conflict relationship with him as possible and that means no contact other than email or text, and although he still manages to be abusive, I choose to give only emotionally neutral responses. I’m aware that it would be better for my kids to have friendly co-parents, but that’s not possible with someone who continues to be dishonest, disrespectful, and abusive. It’s like the oxygen mask on an airplane – in order to be the best parent I can be to my kids, I must take care of myself by setting firm boundaries with their dad, in order for me to live my healthiest and happiest life.
So much love and thanks to you for all you’ve shared that has helped me move through challenge and create love in its place. I will be forever grateful. <3
L, Thank you, love you, owe you. Your words are pitch perfect. The answer lies in the midst of all the guidance we receive; the place where we take that wisdom and mold it to our personal situation. What seems to make the most sense is to do what feels right in my core. I’m not out to hurt my former spouse or in any way tarnish him in the eyes of The Dudes. But I’m not going to meekly fake a relationship that can only exist with SOME degree of trust and respect, when he is not worthy of ANY degree of trust and respect. And I, too, am unwilling to give the impression of “…tacit approval of unacceptable behavior” by acting as if everything is cool. It’s not cool. He and his affair partner betrayed our family. And his behavior since that time continues to be emotionally abusive.
These two quotes of yours are very important for us all to internalize: “Amongst the many problems with no-fault divorce is that it allows people who have made the choice to be unfaithful and abandon their families to carry on as though their actions were not actually responsible for the demise of their marriage.” “…while it may be painful for children to hear that one parent has done this to another, I personally believe that it’s worse for children to not be granted the framework of basic human values of honesty and integrity.” Honesty and integrity. The Dudes will embrace those values. And we will continue to have an open and honest, age-appropriate discourse about life. They expect that from me and it is the only way I can operate. I am so grateful you took the time to share these important thoughts with us. Love yourself, Cleo
Do not respond to the HDC email. Never acknowledge her.
Block her email for the future!
E, I’m with you. I have no intention of responding to her email. I’d block her if her words affected me. But they don’t. She has never had an impact on me. But her words do give me an opportunity to see inside the mind of an adulterer. A mistress. That is important so I can share with those who have to deal with their spouse’s affair partner. Her words also shed light on why my former spouse and I are not together. Thank you for taking the time to comment. Grateful you are here. Love yourself, Cleo