This Endless Circle of a Rut

Today my entry is a bit on the serious side, and it will probably take more than one entry. First some background.

Before I met DH I dated a man I'll call DB (Dear Boyfriend). I don't know that he was dear, but I loved him. A lot. We were together, on and off, for 7 years. DB had a rough childhood. He was the youngest of 4 children. His mother died when he was a baby, and he and his siblings were separated and put into foster care for about 12 - 14 years. A fall from a tree when he was 6, a compound fracture in his right leg, and lack of medical care for a week, led to a near fatal infection, many years of hospitalization, wheelchairs, and one leg 3 inches shorter and a foot 3 sizes smaller than the other. He literally didn't walk unhindered until he was 15, when all the children were returned back to their father.

I met him when he was 19 and I was 20. He was, to me, gorgeous. His mother was Cajun, and he inherited her coloring, curly hair, brown eyes and fiery personality. He was what many would call a "bad boy". And we hit it off immediately. It was love at first sight.

The problem was he was addicted. To alcohol and drugs. At first it was the garden variety of drugs. And gradually his addictions grew more intense and more desperate until he was a hard-core junkie. I was addicted, though. To him.

It took a 3,000 mile move on my part, a major culture shock, and my finding out how extensive his web of lies was, and how lethal and damaging. And to save my own sanity, I cut all ties. It was one of the most heartrending decisions I made in my life. I was alone, 3,000 miles from my family and friends, and what friends I had left weren't talking to me. It sucked.

Enter my coworkers and friends J & J & R. They helped pull me out of my shell. We went to lunch, dinner, parties, shows. We took day trips and had adventures. Six months after I'd broken off all contact with DB I felt normal. And I was happy. And then one auspicious night, when we were at a nightclub, I met DH.

He was different. Fun. Gentlemanly. We started dating immediately. I accompanied him to his softball and basketball games. We played gin and backgammon and went to his out-of-town tournaments. We went to parties together and had our own adventures. We had our ups and downs; trust issues, emotional issues (primarily on my part). But he was a good man. And considering the previous 7 years, I wanted a good man. Needed one.

And here is the next twist. Years before I moved to Florida and met DH, my paternal grandmother and I had  what we would call date nights. I would go over to her apartment, we would do a thorough cleaning, visit with her friends, order pizza, watch C-SPAN (her favorite channel), read through her correspondence with her extended family, and talk. Some nights she would share stories about her childhood. Others about married life and life with dad and his brother. We both looked forward to these visits. It brought us closer. And she would share words of wisdom and advice. One of the last times I visited before I moved she shared some advice that I vividly remember to this day. "Don't be afraid to say 'No' just because you may hurt some one's feelings."

Now back to Florida and DH-to-be. A few months after we started dating our respective living situations changed, so we decided to move in together. We had virtually nothing. We each earned hardly anything and we were still paying off our own massive bills. But we had fun. We would have parties, go to parties, talk all night, go to games and tournaments, talk all day. Yes, we had our fights. But we always made up before going to sleep. Then I got pregnant with DD and everything changed.

We were both excited. I was a bit more terrified, but DH viewed it as an adventure. And then we started talking about marriage. DH is a staunch Catholic. Me? Southern Baptist. A lax Southern Baptist. Long story short, we were going to get married before DD was born, but DD decided to come roughly a month early. So, instead we married a year later when I was 4 months pregnant with DOS. We married in a Catholic church after I converted to Catholicism. And life was good.

Through the years, DH and I have had our disagreements. But more fundamental, we have found we have different philosophies; in child-rearing, finances, life in general. Sometimes our differences are minuscule. Other times, I don't know. They seem like the elephant in the room.

I have always been independent. I am also very strong-willed. Almost too much so. DH is more traditional. And he is also very laid-back. Put the two of us together, and there are times it is not a pretty picture.

There are times I get the impression DH feels emasculated. And I get the distinct impression that though he says he is responsible for not 'having what he deserves', he blames me. It is like he believes he is entitled to all that he thinks he should have at his age. And he's right when he says I don't understand. Because I don't. I mean, we have our children, a beautiful house, transportation, good jobs, etc. We may not have the funds to go on trips across the country or around the world. We may have a high bill ratio. And we may not be able to blow hundreds of dollars when we want. But we are healthy. We can pay our bills, and they will eventually get paid off. And life, in general, is good. To me, life is a journey. And who knows? As I always say, Hope Springs Eternal.

But DH. Here are some of the phrases I hear: "That is my karma." "That is my life goes." "I never get what I deserve." "No one listens to/understands/hears me." "My children don't care about me." "Nothing I say makes any difference." "I have a lot of good ideas but no one wants to hear them." "After all these years you still don't know me." "It's my fault no one takes me seriously." And I could go on.

And he's right. I don't understand him. I try, but try as I might I don't get it. No one is entitled. And so what if we owe more than we probably should? The situation may not be ideal, but we are still moving forward. And appearances can be deceiving. I recently found out a coworker/friend of mine has been divorced for several years, had her house foreclosed on and is in bankruptcy. By all appearances she is very well off. And other peers with two incomes, well, they are earning roughly the same incomes. Whereas, ours is lopsided, and that can and does affect expenses.

So, to what does he feel entitled? To retire at 62 and not have to work another day in his life? That is his goal. But it's not mine. Yes, it would be nice. More than nice. But realistically, we either downsize or keep working to stay in the house we are in.

Do you know what he would say to all of this? "You still don't understand what I'm trying to say. I deserve more respect. I deserve to be listened to. I deserve..." And again, I don't understand. I do respect him. I listen to him (though hearing the same diatribe time and time again does get old - and he certainly knows how to preach!). And I try to make him content if not happy. But it's just not enough. And that is when I ask myself - Is it me? To which he would say - "It's not all about you."

Then what is it? Because this - all this - sometimes I know this is not what I signed up for. I try but I can't make him happy. And I don't like the feeling that somehow I'm to blame. And all this energy - it could be redirected to truly doing something. Making a difference. But it's zapped because we are stuck in this endless circle of a rut. And I think back on my grandmother's advice and I wonder; did we get married because we didn't want to hurt the other person's feelings? I don't know. I just don't know.

On Being A Parent I

This is a subject that has been weighing on my mind for a while now. I have three children. The eldest is DD (Dear Daughter). And the middle and youngest are sons (DOS - Dear Older Son and DYS - Dear Younger Son). My husband and I have very different upbringings and thus have very different philosophies on child-rearing. It has been a continuous source of friction through our children's lives.

Me being more of the Type A and DH (Dear Husband) being definitely Type C, we can guess who got their way most of the time. Which has contributed to communications mishaps between DH and I and the children.

I love my children unconditionally. They are the lights of my life. And I know DH also loves our children. There are times, though, when our children's choices make it difficult for DH to comprehend them...as do I.  And that does not change how I feel one whit. My children are my miracles. I love them so much.

Now that I've been a parent for a few years, and my eldest is nearing 20, suffice it to say that I heartily regret some (many) interactions I had with my parents when I was between the ages of 15 and 26. Let's just say I made it difficult for my parents to...like me, let alone love me. I rebelled, as do we all. I'm not sure, though, that my parents were ready for me to rebel so...dramatically. Mom and dad became parents young (at least young for everyone in my age group), and I hit 15 when mom was 34 and dad was 36. They were both fairly young in their careers. My sister (smart girl), learned what not to do through my mistakes. Or rather, she learned better rebelling skills.

So, like I said, my eldest is nearing 20. And the last 5 years have been, hmmmm, tumultuous. I think that is a fairly tactful way of saying the first 3 years were horrible. Terrible. Wow. I'm surprised we all survived. In the last 2 years we've seen a leveling off. Not that the crazy years are over, but now that DD has been living on her own for about a year now, it's been relatively peaceful.

I think what has been a real maturing opportunity on DH and my part has been that DD came out as a lesbian when she was still in high school. She first indicated she was bisexual, but it soon became apparent she preferred female relationships. As for me. It was difficult to accept. The primary reason being that I had to face the very real possibility/probability that my daughter would not have biological children of her own. And that was tough. But what I realized very quickly was that DD is my daughter regardless. Regardless. And to be involved in her life meant loving all of her. Which, actually, was and is very easy. She has good taste in her significant others. And her GF's have always been fun, nice, pretty, and just enjoyable to be with.

To keep in DD's life, I try to spend quality time with her. It isn't always easy given our work schedules, but I try to make it work. DD and I have much the same taste in movies and books, so movies is fun and easy. Sometimes I take DD grocery shopping. And whenever I go on a trip I always bring something back for her. I do that for all my children. It's something my parents did for my sister and I, and it's tradition. I also make myself available to DD. I call and talk to her at least 2 times a week. Or at least I try; sometimes I have to leave texts and voicemails. And sometimes I bring little treats to her at work.

For DH, though, his acceptance that his daughter is a lesbian is a continuing struggle. He loves his daughter, but (and this is my opinion only) I think his religious upbringing makes it very difficult to get past DD's sexual orientation. When she spends the night (which happens occasionally when we need her  to watch DYS in early mornings), he really doesn't want her GF to stay too. (They sleep on the foldaway bed in the living room so ain't nothing gonna happen!) And many times he and I have heated discussions about what we and will not allow in the house. But I am happy to say that whenever she calls with a need he is right there ready to go to her aid.

What's ironic is that, to me, DD and DH are very much alike; stoic, keeps their feelings in, ready to help anyone in need, and most of all "I'm going to wait till he/she approaches me first before we talk." I think that with the passing of time, we may grow closer. I hope so. I am very close to my parents now, and I really want to have a close relationship with DD. There is so much I want to do with and for her. But it's not my place. Not until she asks and/or readily accepts.

I sometimes think it's easier for me because it seems as though I've always had gay friends - male and female. High school, college, work, roommates, church. It's sort of like how I have felt colorblind. I think every school I went to in my life was multi-cultural. Skin color was like hair color or clothes. I learned early what was important to me - a person's mind, sense of humor, ability to grow and learn. The fact that my children are multi-racial reminds me that color is but one part that makes the whole.

Anyhoo, there is no real conclusion to this entry. I just wanted to share some of what was on my mind. More will come. My children are each very much their own individuals and sharing their strengths and how I learn from them is important to me.

Night all!