Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it

A rainy Saturday morning and I'm frozen with the feeling of being overwhelmed. My home and life feel like such an enormous mess that I don't even know where to begin. There are mountains of paperwork and projects that need to be completed around the house. My children need and deserve some of my time as well. And then there's the subject of husband & marriage. Ugh. I just seem to wander from room to room picking up out of place objects and returning them to the place where they belong. Things are such a mess around here that simply putting things away could take days, maybe even months. I seem to sabotage myself by holding myself to a standard that is impossible to reach, i.e., not only do I have to sort all of my daughters important medical records into piles, I must hole punch and have color coordinated binders for them as well. It's absurd.

And all of this is just a ruse to distract myself from what's really bothering me. I have painted myself into a corner in my marriage. I have completely checked out of it. I went to speak to an attorney right before Christmas to get a professional opinion about the situation. The long and short of this conversation was that it would take time to craft a situation that was best for the kids. I agreed and accepted that it would take the better part of a year to position our lives in such a way to minimize the changes a divorce would bring for the kids. And I set my mind to the task at hand. I not only accepted the idea , I felt like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I had a plan and now, I just had to endure until I saw it through.

And now, every interaction I see between my children and their father pains me. I imagine their lives without him in it every day and I am so confused. Intellectually, I know that we are not teaching them to live in healthy, balanced ways. I know too that we are letting this legacy of codependancy and alcohol creep into one more generation. I am trying desparately to unravel my feelings of guilt and apply what I've learned. It seems that it would be easy for me to see that even though my father was under the same roof as me, it did not mean that he was a part of my life, or that he parented me. And I know too the damage it did to watch my parents lead separate lives under the same roof. Dear lord, it's painful for me to recognize that I have recreated, nearly lock, stock and barrel, my childhood. I want to break the cycle! But I don't want to just go to the other extreme, I want to do what is best for me and the kids. I know what that is for me, I just don't know what it is for them.

Congruency = Peace, Security & Happiness

While I've had the flu recently, I wake up at odd intervals and stumble out of bed and wander around the house looking for clues of what has transpired while I've been sleeping. The house is an absolute wreck. Now, granted, it usually is a mess, but it's one step closer to pandamonium now. I go to the refrigerator, open the freezer door, put a toaster waffle in the toaster and wait. When it's done, I butter it and gobble it down, go back to my room, take more meds and fall back into a coma-like sleep. This has been my routine for a few days now.

I wake up from time to time and read a few blogs. I read a post recently that really struck a chord, about needing time and space and just normality. I just want a little bit of peace, a tidy home, to not feel like I live in a powder keg. During my feverish sleep, I have been awakened by husband yelling at the kids, and then the kids running into my room to be comforted. My son ran in most recently to tell me that daddy had hurt his hand...indeed he had, it was red where he had grabbed his arm - and for what you might ask did this 3 year old do to deserve such treatment? He wouldn't answer his father when he asked where his milk cup was. Dad has a big booming voice and I doubt very much that my son even recalled where he had put said cup, but that didn't seem to be factored into husband's mind. I got out of bed and went to ask husband what had transpired, and it was clear that he felt justified in his actions. I asked him if he realized that he had hurt his son, and he actually said, "does he realize that he hurt me?"

Wow. I wanted to strangle him in the worst way right then. I wanted to tell him to get the f***out of the house, away from me and the kids. Forever. To quit poisoning them with his self-pity and immaturity. He's 47 years old for heaven's sake! What could a three year old possibly do to hurt him? He really, really doesn't get it. He is so busy stewing in his own pool of pity that he can't step up to the plate even for his own beautiful son. And to think that I had a hand in creating this awful situation for my children makes me weep. That in trying to fix within myself a need for love and acceptance born from my own father's neglect, I have put my children in very much the same situation.

I want peace, security & happiness. My husband says he wants these things but does not demonstrate behaviour congruent with that statement. He talks about it, as if he knows that those are the right things to say, but he does not live in a way that makes me believe him. He is still frozen in fear, just where I found him many years ago in his cave of an apartment when I met him. He may have stopped drinking, but he still refuses to get in the game of life. I have made it possible for him to stay on the sidelines. I don't want to do it anymore, but I have to dismantle this situation with care, it seems, for my children. There is no way to shield them from the hurt that will inevitably come, but I want them to have something real to look toward, and to fall back on...and the only way to do that is for to make my words congruent with my actions. That will create real security and peace and happiness.

Everywhere you go, there you are

I have avoided new posts the past week. I didn't really know why until today. The sadness deep in me is suddenly palpable; if I put it all down in black and white I think I've been afraid I might just lay down and cry. But I can't give in, can I? I fantasize about a vacation by myself where I could sleep and write and cry as needed. As the sole financial support for this family, a caregiver to my father, and chauffeur to daughter's speech therapy twice weekly with a one hour drive each way...it just seems irresponsible. Besides, as my mother so famously says, "Everywhere you go, there you are". Would a few days away by myself give me a break from my brain? Unfortunately not.

This past week husband has been so strange. I think he realizes how thin the ice he's skating truly is. This behaviour not only confuses me but makes me mad as hell. He hasn't been yelling at the kids, which is great. But then he wants to cut up and joke with me like nothing is wrong. He actually tried to kiss me as I pulled out of the driveway the other day...it felt so foreign, so wrong. We have not slept in the same room for the better part of a year. We hardly speak most of the time, and when we do it's about the kids. About once a week I try to "check in" with him to see where he is on finding a therapist or treatment or a job, but it always descends quickly into him being angry and defensive. So this last week or two makes me want to crawl out of my skin, but even more it makes me question myself, and that feels worse than anything!

I want a divorce. I just feel guilty for wanting it, like I haven't tried hard enough, or that I am not thinking of my kids enough. When I have some clarity, I can let go of those issues. But my head is so cloudy right now and I'm just really tired.