Before I resume writing the next entries, I want to share where I am at as I go through this process of digging up my past.
For sure, none of this has been easy. But, in speaking with a friend over coffee this morning, then reading an article that I quote from below, some things came clear to me about why I am glad to be doing this.
Read the rest of this entry »For this entry, I will let the words of my journal from that time and observations from now tell the story.
September 5, 1995
We had been seeing a counselor for some time….my husband and I were locked into a struggle we didn’t understand. We sensed there was something going on underneath the obvious issues, but it was elusive and hard to see…
In looking back, the biggest place of conflict usually came up around sex. I wanted it, he didn’t. Which isn’t totally true. I suspect that in most couples, there is no doubt one who is more interested than the other, and they work it out.
But at that point, I just couldn’t understand that. Men were always supposed to want it. After all, looking back, my father was always after me. Here we were, husband and wife, in a healthy place for sex, and yet my husband WASN’T pursuing me. What was wrong? If he didn’t, then that meant he didn’t love me. And by extension, I was no good. So I tried more creative approaches, more focus on methods…everything, and all it did was polarize us more.
What I can understand now is that sex wasn’t the problem. It was the symptom of something else driving it all, and actually driving us apart.
Read the rest of this entry »Is it possible to go from an abusive household with no role modeling for healthy relationship skills and have a successful marriage?
I can’t answer for anyone else. I can only say, for us, it was not a given, no matter how much we loved each other.
What do you say about the issues in your early years of marriage, when you are writing about them from 40+ years out? From having navigated struggles and joys, successes, near-death episodes, and all that life can throw at you? When I think of who we were back then compared to now, we were almost more like strangers.
So does it even feel relevant to look back?
Read the rest of this entry »“He looks like he’s reading!”
It was a comment from the lady sitting next to my son and me on the plane. She was not pleased to be seated next to an 18-month-old.
I wanted to say, “Oh, but he can!” But no, my son didn’t read yet. But at least he was sitting quietly with the in-flight magazine, intently studying the pictures and slowly turning each page as if he were reading every word.
Read the rest of this entry »
For any successful team to operate, there must be an agreed-upon set of rules and priorities. And Ed and I were a team. So, during this “adult” phase, we had five priorities:
Read the rest of this entry »I call this next set of pieces “The Warrior Years.” It was the main part of adulthood and child-rearing, the years when so many things were operating at once.
It was a complicated, stressful set of years: A time I felt vulnerable, uncertain, emotionally scared, and scarred. Yet I was also physically and ethically strong and determined to break the patterns and cycles of my father’s “Family System Rules.”
I wanted our son to be free of that past and its influences to give him a better, healthier life. While it wasn’t always done smoothly, it was always done with great care and love.
To write these well, I need to reflect on the main themes of this period. These will be the pieces for this phase, defining the challenges, the efforts, and the insights:
Read the rest of this entry »Sitting at the dining room table, I stared across the room and studied my husband’s face. He was seated at the desk in the living room, speaking on the phone. I watched every expression for a hint as to the “bottom line” of this call. The conversation seemed pleasant. The call was brief.
Hanging up the phone (Yes, this is before cell phones), Ed turned to me and said,
“Well, the job in North Carolina is ours if we want it….Do we want it?”
Never has there been more of a pregnant pause between us…not even the time I called him when I was actually pregnant….
Read the rest of this entry »With the arrival of my son, a whole new phase of my life was ushered in – The Warrior Years. I will talk about those in upcoming pieces. But first, there was the “minor thing” of giving birth, and “finding my footing” as a new mother.
However easy the pregnancy was, that next year or two was the “Baptism of Fire,” the crucible that would initiate me into motherhood. It would transform me from a young woman managing my own life, needs, and work to heal, to the nurturer and guardian of a whole other life. And even as I would need to keep working on myself, my son and his care would, rightly so, take precedence over my needs for a good many years.
The birth was difficult – I had to be induced. Hours and hours of transition-level labor. The biggest concern came late in the process, when the baby seemed to be trying to exit out of my hip and was starting to show drops in oxygen levels. The doctor decided we’d give it one last try, and if it didn’t work, then it was a C-section.
Read the rest of this entry »Just a reminder. As I noted at the beginning of this memoir series, I will not speak about my siblings. Only my parents, myself, and Ed.
The doctor was late for the appointment. Our meeting was being held after regular hours, so the office was locked. We stood crowded into a side waiting room, Ed and I at one end, my family across from us.
My father stood silent and clutching his bible. Ed remembers that Dad’s hands were shaking. I don’t. I was eight months pregnant and in full “battle mode,” totally focused on what I was about to do. There was no turning back now. Lives beyond my own depended on this.
Why my father actually came to this appointment, I am not sure. He had to know what I was about to do. But maybe it was still a control thing. Even if his secret was about to be ripped open, maybe he figured he could control the fallout? I don’t know. And, I don’t care.
The second hand on the wall clock was as loud as a drum, and the minutes ticked by like hours. But finally, a car raced into the parking lot. The doctor burst through the back door, offering rushed greetings and apologies for being late.
The doctor had already arranged chairs in a side area of his office. We sat in a circle, with the doctor just slightly behind Ed and me. From there, the doctor could observe and manage the conversation if needed.
I don’t remember my exact words, only that I got right to the point, “This is about incest. About Dad sexually abusing me all through my life.”
Read the rest of this entry »It was a relaxing time on the cruise…at least until our return. Ed switched jobs not long after our return in the hopes that the stress level would drop. But given his career as a computer systems administrator, all you could say was that the job stress “changed.” It didn’t drop.
And three months into our marriage, it would really ramp up.
Soul Mosaic 