anger

A Rocky, Stinky, Sweet State of Normal

Z. looking ahead, making my way, new way of life, Stages of grief, what I wish I knew , , , , , , , ,

My therapist told me to keep writing. I haven’t been faithful to that request. I have been doing a lot of stuff outside of the blog. I’ve been living. Living a new (another) life and finding what has proven to be a rocky state of normalcy for me. In hindsight, perhaps keeping up with the writing would make it feel less rocky.

I have started attending a divorce support group. Last year, I went to one meeting right after M left–it was the week they talked about anger.  I left that class and told the facilitator that it wasn’t the right time for me.  I didn’t “act” like what they showed angry to look like. I had anger in me and wrote about it, but I wasn’t fired-up angry, if that makes any sense. I certainly wanted with everything in me to hate M, to hate her and I didn’t, I couldn’t and I still don’t. I wondered and still do- what’s wrong with me that I don’t have any feelings of hate toward them? Wouldn’t THAT be normal? Don’t normal people lash out and break things and scream at  the top of their lungs until their face is red. Don’t they start fires and burn pictures of past memories and toss belongings onto the lawn, don’t they try to retaliate? And yet, I had none of those feelings. I would share that with folks and they told me I was numb, they told me it was because I understood the love of God for me and therefore could show compassion to those that hurt me. It didn’t make me feel normal to hear any of those things.

In one of my question and answer sessions with A, he came out and asked me one night, Do you blame God? I paused. I cried. I said yes.

I’m a “good, Christian girl” so of course I’m supposed to believe that nothing slips through the fingers of God without Him knowing or allowing. I’m to believe that God is sovereign and that nothing catches Him by surprise. And yet I couldn’t wrap my mind around how five years ago the Lord allowed me (and M) to lose our worldly belongings and have nothing but our family to cling to. Yes, my “family” was quirky but weird as it was to others, it was mine. It consisted of me, M, and our two dogs. Then in a matter of 13 months I lost one dog, then the other dog, and finally M. I lost all of “my” family. I remember saying to God, I don’t understand. What’s next? What else am I going to lose? What’s left to be taken from me?
I was scared to know the answer.

After a pause, A replied Yes, God allows everything but don’t confuse that with Him being the author of it.  And I realized that was an answer my soul could accept. I didn’t want to hear it but I needed to and I didn’t like hearing it anymore than I liked that M and her had an affair and continued to spread lies about me even after they got what they wanted.

I’ve realized I was angry but that my anger was misplaced and the reason it didn’t “look” like what anger should look like, is because how do you “show” anger at the Creator of the Universe when He is the one that I desperately needed comfort from? It’s like biting the hand that feeds you… you may not like what is being served for dinner, but if you’re hungry enough you will eat.  In all of this, I was still counting on the Lord to be my source of strength and to live up to the promises His Word says about having a hope and a plan for my future (Jer 29:11) and that I would have a table in the presence of my enemies and MY cup would overflow (Psalm 23:5).

In my support group, we are in week two of the “trifecta” (anger, depression, lonliness) and I realize that I’m never going to be able to slap or punch M, (and it’s not prudent to do that to her either) but I can be angry at M even though he isn’t here anymore. I have things I would like to say to him, things I want him to know but there are all sorts of ways to work through that. My display of anger isn’t so unusual–anger takes many different forms. Television’s depiction of anger in divorce was what was guiding me to believe I wasn’t handling this normally but I’m handling it as normally as I would handle things.

So my new sense of normal has currently got me in a raw state–like an onion–all my layers are being peeled back and I’m learning a lot about myself. I just hope that it’s not so stinky that I offend anyone, but rather, maybe I will be like a Vidalia onion… sweet and bloomin’!

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Angry is the New Black

Z. memories, new way of life, Stages of grief , , , , , ,

If angry is the new black, then today I am in style!

I went grocery shopping today for the first time since D-Day. It’s the first time I’ve felt like planning ahead. Each day until now, I’ve just gotten up and started my day hoping that it would be easier than the one before. Eating consisted of whatever I could stomach which wasn’t much.

I felt like I had a sign on my head that said “Broken-hearted person shopping” … I got three $1.99 frozen meals, one of those being a two pack of breakfast burritos and three bananas, three. I always tried to have bananas in the house, not only did I know you liked them but I knew they would be good for you and be a quick snack you could just grab and go.

Breakfast was always something I tried to make sure that you had. I was thankful when you said that you picked up a nighttime part-time job to help with our budget needs. On those nights when you had to work from midnight to 7 am; I got up early enough to make sure you had a breakfast sandwich or breakfast burrito waiting for you when you got home. I have to laugh at myself now, how many of those nights that you said you were working did you really work? I already know for sure about one shift that you had covered so that you could be with her. How many mornings did you let me look the fool having breakfast ready for you while you had been fooling around with her at night.

I remember watching you on Saturday, just 12 hours after you told me about the affair, watching you scarf down food from a fast food joint. It was the most aggressively I had seen you eat in awhile. I remember wondering how it was that you could eat. By this time, I had not eaten in 24 hours and just the thought of food was enough to make me sick to my stomach. I was still trying to wrap my mind around the events of the night before and you were already moving forward.

I wanted her to apologize. I wanted you to apologize. But neither of you did and neither of you have so far. Sure, you have told me that you are sorry that you couldn’t share your feelings in a way that I understood and that you are sorry that you let it get this far. But you should be sorry because what you did was WRONG! Not only WAS it wrong – it’s STILL wrong. You are living with her and have been living with her since the day you left the rental. Your new bank account has her address on file and her address is on your checks. Perhaps I should stop considering it just her address…since now, it’s clearly both of you.

At first, you used to tell me that you went from one friend’s home to another. You should know that I believed that about as much as I believed you were (and still are) sleeping on her couch. If you were really sorry for what happened, you would not have anything to do with her. Your stomach would be in knots, your conscience on overdrive because you would know that what you are doing is wrong. Your words to me are just chatter. They don’t align with your actions. And until the day that they ever do, I will over-analyze, I will over-think and I will question everything you tell me.

Yesterday, I saw you briefly to give you the keys to the rental so that you could start moving your stuff out. It was the second time I had seen you since you started your new job. It was also the second time I saw that you had a lovely sandwich made for you and when I asked you “oh, who made your lunch?” your response was delayed as you knew that I knew the answer. When you did reply, instead of being honest, you said that she gets these fancy rolls that were delicious and YOU made up some sandwiches for yourself. I don’t believe you.

It’s been 28 days since D-day and you seem to be moving on. You have a daily routine that includes her and her daily routine is now incorporated into yours. You say to me that you didn’t move on with your life and that you aren’t acting as if life was normal for you but you are wrong. Here is how I know…. you are living in the very neighborhood that you looked at buying a house with me, you are dating a girl that is also a brunette, wears glasses, was born in August, is going to college and you have the job that we prayed you would get. I almost feel badly that she is living my recycled life … almost.

Yes, I’m angry today. I’m angry that you don’t see just how wrong your actions were and are. I’m angry that you can’t even wait 45 days for our divorce to be final before moving in and on with her. I’m angry that you say things to me thinking that I want to hear them, I’m angry that I listen to what you have to say, I’m angry that I respond to your texts, I’m angry that I care so much about a marriage and a life that you so carelessly, casually, and thoughtfully threw away.

Yup, today I’m dressed to the nines.