I love you. I have waited for you for all of my life. And when I found you, I was stunned that we had been near each other off and on all of our lives and probably even crossed paths a time or two.
I know these past few months have been hell for you. They have not been a walk in the park for any of us. We are all sad, angry, depressed, frustrated. We feel let down by those paid to be our advocate. We feel lied to and deceived.
You are allowed your feelings. You are allowed to be depressed and pissed as hell.
But you need to remember that I love you. That, throughout this entire mess, I have tried my damnedest to be there when you need me. I know my EAP recomendations are batting .500, good therapist, not so good lawyer. But at least we had that to help us navigate this mess.
Please stop pushing me away when you need me most. I am fighting like hell for us. I need to know that you are fighting too. Because, I cannot do it alone. I need you. Just as we both need our Sue.
I love you with all my heart.
Mores and Mores,
t
12/31/2010
T's Version of Thursday
For several weeks, we have been holding our collective breath over December 3oth and the potential outcome. Tom has been positive he was returning to jail without warm clothing, appropriate medical attention, appropriate diet for his gastric needs. Sue and I have held onto the hope that he would be coming home with us, with some sort of probation deal.
Before leaving for court, Tom removed all of his jewelry so it would not be taken at jail. He had his hair and nails trimmed because he didn't expect to have these things done for him in the jail.
When we arrived at court, we met with our lawyer who told us that there was a visiting judge and a substitute prosecutor in court and that he had a good feeling about things. He felt the one charge was going to be dropped and that the inciting panic charge could be plead down to probation. We all took a breath. Tom was smiling, Tom was chatting as if things were going to improve.
Sue and I were required to sit on the opposite side of the courtroom from Tom and his lawyer. We held hands and breath as Tom was called before the judge. The prosecutor asked to approach the Judge and Tom's lawyer joined them. The deal was made. The deal was then explained to Tom and Tom agreed. Sue and I exhaled in tandem. The deal I HEARD included 84 days in jail with a $250 fine, the jail time was dropped pending 6 months non-monitoring probation. We were told that non-monitoring was just that.....non-monitoring. When we exited the court, we thanked the lawyer and he left us to complete documents and pay the fine and court costs. Tom signed the document presented to him by the bailiff. Then saw it said nothing about non-monitoring probation. It spoke of monitoring probation. Tom immediately called the lawyer's cell and was told not to worry about that, it was stated in court non-monitoring, so all was fine. But when we were paying our $250 plus court costs, we were told the cost also included monitoring probation. We were stunned. We were told to wait to speak with a probation officer and so we did. Tom spent about 30 minutes with his new probation officer. Learning what he would need to do for the next 6 months. We left there to have the ankle monitor removed and base unit returned to the other probation location. On the drive, Tom tried to call the lawyer again, and got voicemail, leaving a message of his concerns. Sue and I waited in the car as Tom had the monitor removed and documents signed.
Tom seemed relieved during the drive to have the monitor removed. He was happy to not be going to jail. He exited the probation without the monitor or monitoring device and was smiling. As we drove home, I suggested we try one of the Indian restaurants he and Sue had previously spoken of. He suddenly was depressed and said he didn't care what we did. I thought a celebration was in order. He was home with us and not chained to the monitor. He could power walk outside without the device going off every time he passed the front door. He could have meals with us that were healthy for him and have his medications appropriately. He could sleep in his own bed. He could have interactions with his son, and not have to be embarrassed by having to explain the situation. He had previously spoke of a conversation with his therapist about not drinking for a year, so the probation would be over before that time-frame. And most of all, we would have him home with us.,,,,,safe.
But he told me that he was hoping for a real celebration of a nice dinner and a glass of wine. But that was all ruined because everyone lied.
We ended up going out for Indian food. I drove and turned in the restaurant of Tom's choice. It was an odd little place. Food on paper plates and Styrofoam, served with plastic ware. The food was tasty and everyone seemed to enjoy it.
I went to bed early. It had been an exhausting day and I spent too much time sitting in bad chairs with no way to elevate my leg occasionally. We still had not heard back from the lawyer and it seems, we might not hear from him.
I am still trying to hold my family together. This was a better outcome that Tom expected but not everything we were told to expect by the lawyer, prosecutor and judge. So we have 6 months of sporadic drug/alcohol testing. And if we can believe what was said, could call on 12/30/11 and start the paperwork to get this expunged from his record.
But Tom is home with us. He is free to do just about anything he wants (except drink). He is not required to attend AA meetings. He does not have to continue therapy (although, I hope he will because the therapist has been good with him and he respects her). He can go out of state. He can see his physicians and not have to fulfill paperwork for the probation department. He will be here when I have situations with Mom and need his support.
I was thrilled there was a visiting judge and prosecutor, because I honestly do not feel we would have had as good of an outcome with the usual pair. They have a history of being less than willing to work with defendants, even ones without any record of any kind.
I love you, Tom. I am glad you are home and if I could change anything I would. I would be happy to fax a letter to the lawyer from you, along with a copy of the documents we received from the court. Maybe he will respond and if there is something he can do to rectify, what we feel is an error, he will.
T
Before leaving for court, Tom removed all of his jewelry so it would not be taken at jail. He had his hair and nails trimmed because he didn't expect to have these things done for him in the jail.
When we arrived at court, we met with our lawyer who told us that there was a visiting judge and a substitute prosecutor in court and that he had a good feeling about things. He felt the one charge was going to be dropped and that the inciting panic charge could be plead down to probation. We all took a breath. Tom was smiling, Tom was chatting as if things were going to improve.
Sue and I were required to sit on the opposite side of the courtroom from Tom and his lawyer. We held hands and breath as Tom was called before the judge. The prosecutor asked to approach the Judge and Tom's lawyer joined them. The deal was made. The deal was then explained to Tom and Tom agreed. Sue and I exhaled in tandem. The deal I HEARD included 84 days in jail with a $250 fine, the jail time was dropped pending 6 months non-monitoring probation. We were told that non-monitoring was just that.....non-monitoring. When we exited the court, we thanked the lawyer and he left us to complete documents and pay the fine and court costs. Tom signed the document presented to him by the bailiff. Then saw it said nothing about non-monitoring probation. It spoke of monitoring probation. Tom immediately called the lawyer's cell and was told not to worry about that, it was stated in court non-monitoring, so all was fine. But when we were paying our $250 plus court costs, we were told the cost also included monitoring probation. We were stunned. We were told to wait to speak with a probation officer and so we did. Tom spent about 30 minutes with his new probation officer. Learning what he would need to do for the next 6 months. We left there to have the ankle monitor removed and base unit returned to the other probation location. On the drive, Tom tried to call the lawyer again, and got voicemail, leaving a message of his concerns. Sue and I waited in the car as Tom had the monitor removed and documents signed.
Tom seemed relieved during the drive to have the monitor removed. He was happy to not be going to jail. He exited the probation without the monitor or monitoring device and was smiling. As we drove home, I suggested we try one of the Indian restaurants he and Sue had previously spoken of. He suddenly was depressed and said he didn't care what we did. I thought a celebration was in order. He was home with us and not chained to the monitor. He could power walk outside without the device going off every time he passed the front door. He could have meals with us that were healthy for him and have his medications appropriately. He could sleep in his own bed. He could have interactions with his son, and not have to be embarrassed by having to explain the situation. He had previously spoke of a conversation with his therapist about not drinking for a year, so the probation would be over before that time-frame. And most of all, we would have him home with us.,,,,,safe.
But he told me that he was hoping for a real celebration of a nice dinner and a glass of wine. But that was all ruined because everyone lied.
We ended up going out for Indian food. I drove and turned in the restaurant of Tom's choice. It was an odd little place. Food on paper plates and Styrofoam, served with plastic ware. The food was tasty and everyone seemed to enjoy it.
I went to bed early. It had been an exhausting day and I spent too much time sitting in bad chairs with no way to elevate my leg occasionally. We still had not heard back from the lawyer and it seems, we might not hear from him.
I am still trying to hold my family together. This was a better outcome that Tom expected but not everything we were told to expect by the lawyer, prosecutor and judge. So we have 6 months of sporadic drug/alcohol testing. And if we can believe what was said, could call on 12/30/11 and start the paperwork to get this expunged from his record.
But Tom is home with us. He is free to do just about anything he wants (except drink). He is not required to attend AA meetings. He does not have to continue therapy (although, I hope he will because the therapist has been good with him and he respects her). He can go out of state. He can see his physicians and not have to fulfill paperwork for the probation department. He will be here when I have situations with Mom and need his support.
I was thrilled there was a visiting judge and prosecutor, because I honestly do not feel we would have had as good of an outcome with the usual pair. They have a history of being less than willing to work with defendants, even ones without any record of any kind.
I love you, Tom. I am glad you are home and if I could change anything I would. I would be happy to fax a letter to the lawyer from you, along with a copy of the documents we received from the court. Maybe he will respond and if there is something he can do to rectify, what we feel is an error, he will.
T
Court II.....My Version
Swan's account of our trip to court yesterday (contained in post following this entitled "Court") bears little resemblance to mine. It is difficult to imagine she sat in the same court room and participated in the same meetings with my attorney (the lying pig we paid $5000.00 to) along with t and I. She failed to mention that I was convicted of the second offense after entering my no contest plea and that I was sentenced to 90 days in jail plus a $250.00 fine and costs (an additional $300.00) I was given credit for the 4 days in jail I've already served, but here is the hook. My attorney told me/us the plea bargain was that if I plead guilty (well "no contest" actually) to the second charge of "inducing panic," I would have six months of "non-reporting" probation. Then my sentence would be vacated and we could have my offense expunged from my record in a year. He told me this meant that all I had to do was continue my therapy and have no legal offenses for 6 months. If I simply continued my therapy, and had no other legal offenses for 6 months, I was to be home free. I've had no previous legal offenses in over 61 and a half years, so that doesn't sound too difficult. So yes, I agreed.
I accepted that "deal" as it was portrayed to me. After the fact, it turned out this was not the arrangement at all.
Then the attorney left (smart pig), and after we paid $550.00 more in fines and court costs and fees (we'd just paid $204.00 in probation fees yesterday to the probation authority that was performing my "pre-trial supervision") I was ushered in to meet my new probation officer. It turns out that the agreement was not at all as I was informed by my attorney. In actuality I must undergo random drug and alcohol testing for the next 6 months ($25.00 per test, plus $41.66 per month for the privilege of being on probation) as often as they determine I should undergo testing (at least once each month and likely more often). Should I ever test positive for alcohol, I will immediately serve my remaining 86 day sentence. There is no concern whether I continue my psychotherapy at all. I am sure this is because there is no way for the court to collect a fee from my therapy, in that it is being provided by private practicing psychologist.
So having had the reality of the "actual deal" I had agreed to under false pretenses explained to me, I felt devastated once again.
swan and t, however, felt absolutely thrilled that I wasn't going back to jail (at least not today..........Since everyone in the process has lied to me to get me to accept this "deal," it is not difficult to imagine they will likely at some point lie again to violate my probation, and then have me serve the 86 day sentence......Jail time in my county generates really big fees.)
I, on the other hand, felt (and feel) absolutely bereft and betrayed once again.
After our business with the court, we went on to the pre-trial probation agency in another town a few miles away, and they removed my electronic monitoring device from my ankle. (Perhaps now the diabetic neuropathy that has turned both my feet and ankles numb from wearing the damned thing will subside or heal.) When I got back out to the car, t and swan were all grins and talking about how they couldn't wait to go to a local Indian restaurant we had noticed recently to celebrate.
Oh boy what a celebration, food I don't understand, served with only water, in a dump....this is what our "celebrations" have become. They seemed perplexed and confused that I was depressed, unhappy, angry, and frustrated. I was quiet and near tears going home. I told them if they wanted to go out, I would do whatever they wanted.
We got into the condo and sue began screaming at me that I was just angry because "I couldn't go out and get drunk and get drunk every night. I shouldn't worry I'd be able to do that again next July." I was dumb-founded and asked her what I had done to deserve that. She clearly didn't want to hear anything from me, had no concern or respect for my feelings, and was furious that I was feeling as I was, and am. I'd had no desire to get drunk, and certainly no intention of going on nightly binges. When I had been drinking for the the four weeks before she called 911 because of my comment to her in an IM chat back in October kicking all this off, I hadn't been getting drunk nightly. Who knows what set that off....or why....for god sake I had just been restricted from drinking at all for the next 6 months, or go to jail for three months!! I certainly was not about to get drunk.
Beyond the PTSD feelings I had being back in that court, being conned into accepting a plea agreement under false pretenses, being convicted of a crime for the first time in my life and sentenced to 90 days in jail, and then told I was going to be subject to random drug and alcohol checks for the next 180 days pending incarceration for 86 days (after being told explicitly by my attorney that was not going to happen), and paying out another huge finaincial hit, I find myself again in the position where events that absolutely devastate me emotionally, physically, and (all of us) financially make t and swan positivley ecstatic and gleeful. This added twist of the screw really leaves me feeling destroyed.
So, as swan put it, we are on to the next chapter. I am suicidal feeling, once again, and as bad or worse an emotional wreck as I was when I was jailed, or when I first was released from jail. It is clear that my feelings have no validity in my own home, and that my "loves" celebrate the things that hurt me the most deeply. We did go out to the Indian restaurant so they could celebrate "their victory."
To add to it, it is New Years Eve, and I want to die before I drink another god damend glass of Crystal Light or tea...the only things, along with coffee, I am able to drink between the gastric bypass surgery and my "new" probation.
I want to die. I would give anything to have the balls to kill myself.
Tom
I accepted that "deal" as it was portrayed to me. After the fact, it turned out this was not the arrangement at all.
Then the attorney left (smart pig), and after we paid $550.00 more in fines and court costs and fees (we'd just paid $204.00 in probation fees yesterday to the probation authority that was performing my "pre-trial supervision") I was ushered in to meet my new probation officer. It turns out that the agreement was not at all as I was informed by my attorney. In actuality I must undergo random drug and alcohol testing for the next 6 months ($25.00 per test, plus $41.66 per month for the privilege of being on probation) as often as they determine I should undergo testing (at least once each month and likely more often). Should I ever test positive for alcohol, I will immediately serve my remaining 86 day sentence. There is no concern whether I continue my psychotherapy at all. I am sure this is because there is no way for the court to collect a fee from my therapy, in that it is being provided by private practicing psychologist.
So having had the reality of the "actual deal" I had agreed to under false pretenses explained to me, I felt devastated once again.
swan and t, however, felt absolutely thrilled that I wasn't going back to jail (at least not today..........Since everyone in the process has lied to me to get me to accept this "deal," it is not difficult to imagine they will likely at some point lie again to violate my probation, and then have me serve the 86 day sentence......Jail time in my county generates really big fees.)
I, on the other hand, felt (and feel) absolutely bereft and betrayed once again.
After our business with the court, we went on to the pre-trial probation agency in another town a few miles away, and they removed my electronic monitoring device from my ankle. (Perhaps now the diabetic neuropathy that has turned both my feet and ankles numb from wearing the damned thing will subside or heal.) When I got back out to the car, t and swan were all grins and talking about how they couldn't wait to go to a local Indian restaurant we had noticed recently to celebrate.
Oh boy what a celebration, food I don't understand, served with only water, in a dump....this is what our "celebrations" have become. They seemed perplexed and confused that I was depressed, unhappy, angry, and frustrated. I was quiet and near tears going home. I told them if they wanted to go out, I would do whatever they wanted.
We got into the condo and sue began screaming at me that I was just angry because "I couldn't go out and get drunk and get drunk every night. I shouldn't worry I'd be able to do that again next July." I was dumb-founded and asked her what I had done to deserve that. She clearly didn't want to hear anything from me, had no concern or respect for my feelings, and was furious that I was feeling as I was, and am. I'd had no desire to get drunk, and certainly no intention of going on nightly binges. When I had been drinking for the the four weeks before she called 911 because of my comment to her in an IM chat back in October kicking all this off, I hadn't been getting drunk nightly. Who knows what set that off....or why....for god sake I had just been restricted from drinking at all for the next 6 months, or go to jail for three months!! I certainly was not about to get drunk.
Beyond the PTSD feelings I had being back in that court, being conned into accepting a plea agreement under false pretenses, being convicted of a crime for the first time in my life and sentenced to 90 days in jail, and then told I was going to be subject to random drug and alcohol checks for the next 180 days pending incarceration for 86 days (after being told explicitly by my attorney that was not going to happen), and paying out another huge finaincial hit, I find myself again in the position where events that absolutely devastate me emotionally, physically, and (all of us) financially make t and swan positivley ecstatic and gleeful. This added twist of the screw really leaves me feeling destroyed.
So, as swan put it, we are on to the next chapter. I am suicidal feeling, once again, and as bad or worse an emotional wreck as I was when I was jailed, or when I first was released from jail. It is clear that my feelings have no validity in my own home, and that my "loves" celebrate the things that hurt me the most deeply. We did go out to the Indian restaurant so they could celebrate "their victory."
To add to it, it is New Years Eve, and I want to die before I drink another god damend glass of Crystal Light or tea...the only things, along with coffee, I am able to drink between the gastric bypass surgery and my "new" probation.
I want to die. I would give anything to have the balls to kill myself.
Tom
12/30/2010
Court
Today was His court date.
He was offered a plea agreement.
Conviction on the lesser charge.
Dismissal of the more serious charge.
No jail time.
No more electronic monitoring.
No required treatment.
Six months of probation with relatively low levels of supervision.
In one year, He can file to have the record expunged.
This part is over.
The next part is starting.
He was offered a plea agreement.
Conviction on the lesser charge.
Dismissal of the more serious charge.
No jail time.
No more electronic monitoring.
No required treatment.
Six months of probation with relatively low levels of supervision.
In one year, He can file to have the record expunged.
This part is over.
The next part is starting.
12/28/2010
Update
Some quick updates for those friends who are trying to follow along, keep up with us, and (as my friend Caitlin would have said) stand in the gap for us...
We made it through the Christmas holiday. It was surely bittersweet. I doubt we reached anything approaching real "joyfulness," but we did have some gifts to share with one another. We did have a lovely afternoon with His youngest son. We did get to make the trip north and spend a nice evening with T's mom and niece and nephew -- a precious Christmas with Eleanor that none of us would have anticipated a year ago.
T has passed the 5 week mark post surgery and continues to amaze everyone with her progress. Tomorrow will be her last visit to physical therapy. She has her release to return to work after the first of the year. She still hurts sometimes, but it is pretty well controlled with medications and she mostly feels good. She still tires easily, but it recovering her strength day by day.
I got the most wonderful Christmas gift ever... an original, framed, first one ever, finger-painting by my grandson. The "original" painting now hangs prominently in my kitchen where it brings a smile to my face each morning.
Himself continues to meet with his therapist. He seems to like and respect her, and those meetings do seem to help Him feel some better so that is good.
I have purchased two books by Dr. Sue Johnson about a "couple's therapy" process called Emotionally Focused Therapy. We are beginning to read through these together, hoping (at least I am hoping) to find some tools and techniques that might help us reconnect and find our way back to some kind of love and happiness again.
The next court date is Thursday. It is listed as "pre-trial" and the attorney says it will be his first opportunity to "have a conversation" with the prosecutor. None of us really know what to expect. T and I are hopeful that there may be some positive things that come out of this encounter with what passes for the "justice" system. He is, on the other hand, convinced, that nothing good will happen. We will simply have to wait and find out I guess.
One of my students lost his dad on the Monday before Christmas. It was sudden and totally unexpected, and I cannot imagine the devastation for this little guy -- 12 years old is too young for such an enormous loss. I attended the funeral last evening, along with my teaching partner and 16 of our students. I was awfully proud of them for being there for their friend -- even in the middle of their Christmas break.
I'm hot on the trail of whatever it is that is causing my intensified and more frequent migraine headaches. Perhaps in the new year, I'll find some answer to that question. For now, I do have a CT scan that appears normal, so that is good news.
I've made changes here that allow us to keep the evil, nasty anonymous commenters away. That feels positive. This place is in the nature of a "diary" and those who insist that it is a forum for them to be hateful are simply not welcome. So they have been taken care of. I also cleaned up the blog roll which was in real need of pruning and updating.
So. That is the news from here. I wish a very happy new year to all our friends. Thank you for being with us this far.
swan
We made it through the Christmas holiday. It was surely bittersweet. I doubt we reached anything approaching real "joyfulness," but we did have some gifts to share with one another. We did have a lovely afternoon with His youngest son. We did get to make the trip north and spend a nice evening with T's mom and niece and nephew -- a precious Christmas with Eleanor that none of us would have anticipated a year ago.
T has passed the 5 week mark post surgery and continues to amaze everyone with her progress. Tomorrow will be her last visit to physical therapy. She has her release to return to work after the first of the year. She still hurts sometimes, but it is pretty well controlled with medications and she mostly feels good. She still tires easily, but it recovering her strength day by day.
Himself continues to meet with his therapist. He seems to like and respect her, and those meetings do seem to help Him feel some better so that is good.
I have purchased two books by Dr. Sue Johnson about a "couple's therapy" process called Emotionally Focused Therapy. We are beginning to read through these together, hoping (at least I am hoping) to find some tools and techniques that might help us reconnect and find our way back to some kind of love and happiness again.
The next court date is Thursday. It is listed as "pre-trial" and the attorney says it will be his first opportunity to "have a conversation" with the prosecutor. None of us really know what to expect. T and I are hopeful that there may be some positive things that come out of this encounter with what passes for the "justice" system. He is, on the other hand, convinced, that nothing good will happen. We will simply have to wait and find out I guess.
One of my students lost his dad on the Monday before Christmas. It was sudden and totally unexpected, and I cannot imagine the devastation for this little guy -- 12 years old is too young for such an enormous loss. I attended the funeral last evening, along with my teaching partner and 16 of our students. I was awfully proud of them for being there for their friend -- even in the middle of their Christmas break.
I'm hot on the trail of whatever it is that is causing my intensified and more frequent migraine headaches. Perhaps in the new year, I'll find some answer to that question. For now, I do have a CT scan that appears normal, so that is good news.
I've made changes here that allow us to keep the evil, nasty anonymous commenters away. That feels positive. This place is in the nature of a "diary" and those who insist that it is a forum for them to be hateful are simply not welcome. So they have been taken care of. I also cleaned up the blog roll which was in real need of pruning and updating.
So. That is the news from here. I wish a very happy new year to all our friends. Thank you for being with us this far.
swan
12/26/2010
Healing into Immortality -- Part 2
"The dependence on logic is misleading and false. Something can be true and yet not have a basis in formal logic, while something based on formal logic can be quite false...spiritual medicine deals not with logic but with truth."
"Another distinction between logic and truth involves the difference between what is and what may be... Truth always concerns itself with what is, with what presents itself to us and our perceptions in the immediacy of the present moment... The trouble is that the future doesn't exist -- it is simply potential."
"Leave the personal past. What happened, happened already. It is dead, gone, buried. It is in the realm of finished experience. Hanging on to it is to perpetuate your enslavement .. the idea that your past experience dictates your future experience... We cling to this way of thinking to help us fix the future, to gain control of it... Abandon the future, abandon the past. Put your trust in the moment, in the instant, in the presence of the present."
~~Healing into Immortality, Gerald Epstein~~
I imagine that I am going to need to let go of those vines -- even if that means a precipitous drop to the ground below. My mind wants to KNOW what will happen if I just let go. I've got a whole litany of fears and anxieties about the outcome of that. I want to be able to predict and control and manage what comes next. I am grieving the loss of what was, wishing for a return to that happier, lighter time that now exists only in my memory. And so the admonition to "abandon the past -- abandon the future" is for me. The present is here. I just have to figure out how to "come into that present."
Sue
12/25/2010
12/23/2010
Bit Players -- Rascals, Scoundrels, Villains, etc.
Wikipedia, that encyclopedic-styled online source for just about any kind of information, explains that
"a bit part is a supporting acting role with at least one line of dialogue, and an actor who regularly performs in bit roles is referred to as a bit player, a term also used to describe an aspiring actor who has not yet broken into major supporting or leading roles.
Bit parts are often significant in the story line, sometimes pivotal. Some characters with bit parts become well remembered. Constantin Stanislavsky famously remarked that "there are no small parts, only small actors."
The drama in our lives in the last month has been focused on the three of us, and that has been the story that has been told, at least in some part, here. We continue to experience the aftershocks of the events of the last couple of months even as we try to navigate the depths and shoals of our fears and griefs about the coming loss of T's mother. We three are, at least from our perspective, the chief actors in this story. That is and continues to be true.
But there are a whole host of bit players mixed up in this story, and they surely make up a nasty crew of miscreants and thugs. Some might be merely mischief makers or rascals, but others are most definitely true villains -- the sort of critters that one hopes they never run into in real life. Just as in the theater, some of our bit players have significant roles in this drama. At the very least, there are a few small actors who played parts way bigger than any of them deserved.
Here's the cast:
Doctor I-am-too-much-of-a-chickenshit-to-tell-the-truth. This self-proclaimed medical expert, specialist in the field of bariatric surgery, turns out to be a villain in fancy clothes. The information about the effects of alcohol on the altered physiology of the bariatric weight loss surgery patient is readily available. Surely our doctor had to know what the risks and dangers were. His failure to make it clear, from the outset, that alcohol was going to be a very tricky proposition after surgery, goes to the point of failing to obtain informed consent -- and possibly medical malpractice.
M -- The latest in a long line of women (and sometimes men) with spanko fantasies who read that we are poly and then assume that they can just walk in to our lives and take what they want without any regard for the inconvenience of existing relationships. M was a natural for the part -- aging and hating it; still trying to put her middle aged body into clothes more appropriate to her teenage daughter; bleached blonde and loaded down with costume jewelry that she likely spent too much money for, brazenly sitting in our home making her demands for exactly and precisely how she would be "serviced;" and of course having no intention of letting the man to whom she was married in on her little games...
Arizona -- the anonymous stalker who, over the last year, has gotten increasingly nasty and obsessive about us and our lives and our various personal messes and struggles. It is easy to find "Arizona" a bit amusing, but then too, it becomes creepy and a bit scary. Arizona has made it harder and harder for us to write easily or comfortably here, and that sense of dis-ease was there in the undercurrents of the IM conversation that went so terribly wrong on that fateful day in October.
The 9-1-1 Lady -- nothing but a voice on the phone, this was the person that I turned to for help; the person that I called, in a panic, begging her to send someone to help because I was afraid, terrified about what seemed to me a potentially serious threat of suicide. I remember standing in the hallway of the school, on the verge of tears, begging her to send help -- "hurry please..." I know that my decision to make that call has been characterized as everything from naive to retarded, but I also know that making that call was absolutely what I'd been taught to do for years and years and years -- "always take a suicide threat seriously..." Maybe The 9-1-1 Lady was only doing what some sort of misguided, politically motivated, money-grubbing governmental policy dictates... but the fact that she dispatched the Gang of Thugs that morning was a betrayal and a violation of trust that I will never forget or ever forgive.
The Gang of Thugs -- I know that it is fashionable in these days to designate those who work as police and firemen as "heroes." The first responder ethos that was born in New York City on September 11 has given every law enforcement officer a patina of respectability and decency that the vast majority have not earned. If the crowd that responded to the 9-1-1 Lady's dispatch in October are any indication, we ought to all be living in fear of those who swear to "serve and protect." Nothing but a bunch of swaggering bullies and liars, they clearly operate above the law, and outside the pale of civilized behavior. Bullies and thugs, they took a very difficult situation and made it infinitely worse. They were abusive, and there is no way to sugarcoat that fact. If there are any real, true, unforgiveable villains in this whole awful mess, they are it. Forever and always. I will never, ever feel safe again -- the police state is real and it is an ever present threat to every single person in this nation.
The Denizens of the Jail -- Guards, nurses, inmates. Based on the stories he tells, they are all the same. The only difference is that they wear different uniforms and some go home at night. Each one however is as trapped as all the others in a system that is corrupt and abusive and mercenary and incestuous.
The Courthouse Cadre -- a whole cozy cadre of friends who all work together to "process" people (human beings) through the system, generating huge fees and great revenues for the local coffers. From judge, to prosecutor, to public defender, to victim's advocate, to probation department, the whole bunch are all tangled up in a giant pile of legs and arms. A many-headed hydra that purports to be seeking justice, but really just works to generate fees.
We didn't write the script. We never got the chance to read or approve the script. We are however, fully immersed in the drama. The next act commences in a week. We can only hope that the bit players don't end up killing off the three of us.
swan
"a bit part is a supporting acting role with at least one line of dialogue, and an actor who regularly performs in bit roles is referred to as a bit player, a term also used to describe an aspiring actor who has not yet broken into major supporting or leading roles.
Bit parts are often significant in the story line, sometimes pivotal. Some characters with bit parts become well remembered. Constantin Stanislavsky famously remarked that "there are no small parts, only small actors."
The drama in our lives in the last month has been focused on the three of us, and that has been the story that has been told, at least in some part, here. We continue to experience the aftershocks of the events of the last couple of months even as we try to navigate the depths and shoals of our fears and griefs about the coming loss of T's mother. We three are, at least from our perspective, the chief actors in this story. That is and continues to be true.
But there are a whole host of bit players mixed up in this story, and they surely make up a nasty crew of miscreants and thugs. Some might be merely mischief makers or rascals, but others are most definitely true villains -- the sort of critters that one hopes they never run into in real life. Just as in the theater, some of our bit players have significant roles in this drama. At the very least, there are a few small actors who played parts way bigger than any of them deserved.
Here's the cast:
Doctor I-am-too-much-of-a-chickenshit-to-tell-the-truth. This self-proclaimed medical expert, specialist in the field of bariatric surgery, turns out to be a villain in fancy clothes. The information about the effects of alcohol on the altered physiology of the bariatric weight loss surgery patient is readily available. Surely our doctor had to know what the risks and dangers were. His failure to make it clear, from the outset, that alcohol was going to be a very tricky proposition after surgery, goes to the point of failing to obtain informed consent -- and possibly medical malpractice.
M -- The latest in a long line of women (and sometimes men) with spanko fantasies who read that we are poly and then assume that they can just walk in to our lives and take what they want without any regard for the inconvenience of existing relationships. M was a natural for the part -- aging and hating it; still trying to put her middle aged body into clothes more appropriate to her teenage daughter; bleached blonde and loaded down with costume jewelry that she likely spent too much money for, brazenly sitting in our home making her demands for exactly and precisely how she would be "serviced;" and of course having no intention of letting the man to whom she was married in on her little games...
Arizona -- the anonymous stalker who, over the last year, has gotten increasingly nasty and obsessive about us and our lives and our various personal messes and struggles. It is easy to find "Arizona" a bit amusing, but then too, it becomes creepy and a bit scary. Arizona has made it harder and harder for us to write easily or comfortably here, and that sense of dis-ease was there in the undercurrents of the IM conversation that went so terribly wrong on that fateful day in October.
The 9-1-1 Lady -- nothing but a voice on the phone, this was the person that I turned to for help; the person that I called, in a panic, begging her to send someone to help because I was afraid, terrified about what seemed to me a potentially serious threat of suicide. I remember standing in the hallway of the school, on the verge of tears, begging her to send help -- "hurry please..." I know that my decision to make that call has been characterized as everything from naive to retarded, but I also know that making that call was absolutely what I'd been taught to do for years and years and years -- "always take a suicide threat seriously..." Maybe The 9-1-1 Lady was only doing what some sort of misguided, politically motivated, money-grubbing governmental policy dictates... but the fact that she dispatched the Gang of Thugs that morning was a betrayal and a violation of trust that I will never forget or ever forgive.
The Denizens of the Jail -- Guards, nurses, inmates. Based on the stories he tells, they are all the same. The only difference is that they wear different uniforms and some go home at night. Each one however is as trapped as all the others in a system that is corrupt and abusive and mercenary and incestuous.
The Courthouse Cadre -- a whole cozy cadre of friends who all work together to "process" people (human beings) through the system, generating huge fees and great revenues for the local coffers. From judge, to prosecutor, to public defender, to victim's advocate, to probation department, the whole bunch are all tangled up in a giant pile of legs and arms. A many-headed hydra that purports to be seeking justice, but really just works to generate fees.
We didn't write the script. We never got the chance to read or approve the script. We are however, fully immersed in the drama. The next act commences in a week. We can only hope that the bit players don't end up killing off the three of us.
swan
12/21/2010
Healing into Immortality -- Part 1
Much of what I intend to write in the next days and weeks will be my own musings on the material that I am reading in Gerald Epstein's book, Healing into Immortality. I've no intention of copying large portions of the text, although I may quote brief excerpts, so some may want to actually get a copy of the book. That surely isn't a requirement, if you just want to ponder my own ramblings, but if you want to see the original material that I'm working from, then Amazon.com is your friend. Here's the link: http://www.amazon.com/HEALING-INTO-IMMORTALITY-Gerald-Epstein/dp/0553351915
I remember that the first time I read this book, I had an agenda. A friend of mine was in the final stages of breast cancer -- it had metastasized after having been in remission for a number of years. Her two young daughters were aged 8 and 11, and her husband was absolutely devastated. In those days, I was interested in some sort of magic for my friend. It was her healing that I hoped to effect, and when I didn't find the key to that miracle, I became disillusioned and disappointed. Now, so many years later, I am fully aware that I can only walk this path for myself. Much as I might want to work magic for those I love, that work is not mine.
And so, to begin:
"The essential teaching of spiritual medicine is that we possess the means for healing ourselves through the use of our inner mental processes. We make ourselves our own authority and take the responsibility for our health and well-being into our own hands."
For me, that is like a smack up alongside the head. How long, I have to ask myself, have I been mired in thinking about my life, and our lives, as one long string of catastrophes? How long have I cataloged the troubles and traumas, longing for the day, somewhere in the distant future, when we might finally come to the other side of all of it and be able to relax and enjoy ourselves? How long have I patted myself on the back, and told myself what a good and faithful partner/lover/slave I've been for patiently and faithfully taking on the role of caretaker when I'd so much rather be taken care of? And in between all of that fussing and whining? I wonder how many lovely, delightful, joyful, special and entrancing moments have slid by me without a moment's notice precisely because I was so busy being miserable?
Actually, I don't wonder really. I know. I've played the victim and martyr really well, and in doing that I've let go of my own power and my own authority, and let circumstances control me and my responses. I haven't been well-served by that descent into personal powerlessness, and I haven't been well-suited to serve the well-being of my loves; my family. Now, in the grip of yet another crisis, I think I finally "get it." I want to find the tools to heal myself; to achieve personal wellness; so that I might be better able to help heal my family.
Epstein writes:
The majority of people in the Western world hold to the belief that chance is the fundamental reality, ... and that it can perpetrate on us, at any random moment, some awful consequence... Along with this belief comes the notion that there cannot be an invisible reality and that we are fundamentally enslaved, mechanical beings who operate in a determined manner, according to fixed cause-and-effect laws...
When we drop the belief in chance from our consciousness...we step onto the path of spirit... Human beings are born with free will and have the choice to create their own reality... Nothing happens by chance ... Everything comes from the invisible reality and is made manifest through the actions of our will.
Epstein proposes that we "create" our physical reality out of what we believe. That is precisely the opposite of what most of us assume is the reality. In general, we tend to think that it is our experiences that form our beliefs, and so we are forever looking for the "whys" that underlie our behaviors and reactions. I've got a whole, elaborate story about my life and my experiences that I've used to explain and justify the things that I think and believe -- the ways that I react and respond in a wide variety of circumstances. What, I wonder, would it be like if I believed in a reality that I could imagine and visualize -- and then made that vision into a physical set of actions and behaviors? It feels like a slippery sort of understanding, but I think that I might be able to shift the way I respond in the world, and so create a far different sort of reality for myself and my family.
It is all so very "new age." So "woo-woo," that I am skeptical and suspicious. I can imagine that I might stomp around in this stuff for awhile and get nothing much at all out of it but a chorus of "I told you so's." That is surely within the realm of possibility. On the other hand, there is that wickedly enticing, what if...
Sue
I remember that the first time I read this book, I had an agenda. A friend of mine was in the final stages of breast cancer -- it had metastasized after having been in remission for a number of years. Her two young daughters were aged 8 and 11, and her husband was absolutely devastated. In those days, I was interested in some sort of magic for my friend. It was her healing that I hoped to effect, and when I didn't find the key to that miracle, I became disillusioned and disappointed. Now, so many years later, I am fully aware that I can only walk this path for myself. Much as I might want to work magic for those I love, that work is not mine.
And so, to begin:
"The essential teaching of spiritual medicine is that we possess the means for healing ourselves through the use of our inner mental processes. We make ourselves our own authority and take the responsibility for our health and well-being into our own hands."
For me, that is like a smack up alongside the head. How long, I have to ask myself, have I been mired in thinking about my life, and our lives, as one long string of catastrophes? How long have I cataloged the troubles and traumas, longing for the day, somewhere in the distant future, when we might finally come to the other side of all of it and be able to relax and enjoy ourselves? How long have I patted myself on the back, and told myself what a good and faithful partner/lover/slave I've been for patiently and faithfully taking on the role of caretaker when I'd so much rather be taken care of? And in between all of that fussing and whining? I wonder how many lovely, delightful, joyful, special and entrancing moments have slid by me without a moment's notice precisely because I was so busy being miserable?
Actually, I don't wonder really. I know. I've played the victim and martyr really well, and in doing that I've let go of my own power and my own authority, and let circumstances control me and my responses. I haven't been well-served by that descent into personal powerlessness, and I haven't been well-suited to serve the well-being of my loves; my family. Now, in the grip of yet another crisis, I think I finally "get it." I want to find the tools to heal myself; to achieve personal wellness; so that I might be better able to help heal my family.
Epstein writes:
The majority of people in the Western world hold to the belief that chance is the fundamental reality, ... and that it can perpetrate on us, at any random moment, some awful consequence... Along with this belief comes the notion that there cannot be an invisible reality and that we are fundamentally enslaved, mechanical beings who operate in a determined manner, according to fixed cause-and-effect laws...
When we drop the belief in chance from our consciousness...we step onto the path of spirit... Human beings are born with free will and have the choice to create their own reality... Nothing happens by chance ... Everything comes from the invisible reality and is made manifest through the actions of our will.
It is all so very "new age." So "woo-woo," that I am skeptical and suspicious. I can imagine that I might stomp around in this stuff for awhile and get nothing much at all out of it but a chorus of "I told you so's." That is surely within the realm of possibility. On the other hand, there is that wickedly enticing, what if...
Sue
12/18/2010
Well.....
I am so sorry that we have not been all "sunny and light". I am so sorry that we have not had a daily shot of Sue's spanked ass. And I am so sorry that you are tired of all the whining.
This blog was not started as an entertainment blog. This blog is our life. And our life is not always pretty. Especially now. And if Tom needs to write to be able to work this out, then he should be able to write. And if that writing offends you, all you have to do is not read it. There is nothing in the "rules" that states you have to read every little thing that is written here.
Right now we are working at getting by and staying together. People who are our friends, should be able to be supportive, and if they cannot do that, perhaps staying away from us until we are all back to "sunny and light and spanked asses" might be better for them.
Reading what Tom writes is hard. It is sometimes painful. But it has been a way for him to work through his losses and pain and depression. Sue and I remain supportive and love him even when his writing is less than pleasant. That is what we do for the people we love.
I usually keep my fingers off the keys when I get ticked off. But I am tired of hearing people who call us friends, call us whiners. Yes, I said us....because if you point that at Tom, you point at Sue and me also, since we are a family.
Today has been a shitty day. I spent it with my Mom and she is not getting better. She is more needy and it hurts me to see her suffer. It hurts me to see her gasp for breath. It hurts me to know that this is probably my last Christmas with her. And I come home to blogisphere crap and I just want to scream.
If you haven't anything constructive to say, keep it to yourself. This is our blog. You are guests in our lives.
Now....Flame away!
T
This blog was not started as an entertainment blog. This blog is our life. And our life is not always pretty. Especially now. And if Tom needs to write to be able to work this out, then he should be able to write. And if that writing offends you, all you have to do is not read it. There is nothing in the "rules" that states you have to read every little thing that is written here.
Right now we are working at getting by and staying together. People who are our friends, should be able to be supportive, and if they cannot do that, perhaps staying away from us until we are all back to "sunny and light and spanked asses" might be better for them.
Reading what Tom writes is hard. It is sometimes painful. But it has been a way for him to work through his losses and pain and depression. Sue and I remain supportive and love him even when his writing is less than pleasant. That is what we do for the people we love.
I usually keep my fingers off the keys when I get ticked off. But I am tired of hearing people who call us friends, call us whiners. Yes, I said us....because if you point that at Tom, you point at Sue and me also, since we are a family.
Today has been a shitty day. I spent it with my Mom and she is not getting better. She is more needy and it hurts me to see her suffer. It hurts me to see her gasp for breath. It hurts me to know that this is probably my last Christmas with her. And I come home to blogisphere crap and I just want to scream.
If you haven't anything constructive to say, keep it to yourself. This is our blog. You are guests in our lives.
Now....Flame away!
T
A Path
I've stayed mostly quiet about our family's recent trauma. I've avoided speaking directly to what has happened, hoping to not make things worse, trying not to create big emotional blowbacks, wanting to not get caught up in trying to be "right."
I've felt lost and hopeless a lot, fearing for our future, and completely unsure what to do to try and bring us to some sort of peace or healing. I believe that what we have created together is special and unique and worth fighting for. I am convinced that we are strong enough to survive this. I think we have great gifts of strength and resilience and intellect that could all be put to work in service to saving our life and our love...
And I cannot see into what will be. I cannot be sure. I do not know.
Today, though, I seem to have broken through a barrier in my own thinking, and I do not feel so paralyzed. Today, it seems clear to me that I can begin to heal myself. I can't change what has happened, and I can't control what will happen, but I can reclaim my own power, and learn to be strong for myself and my family.
I am about to undertake a journey into my own spirituality -- something that was, once, a big part of my life, and something that I have in large part let go of during these last 8 years. I have, through much of my adult life, called myself a "spiritual backpacker." By that, I mean that I am inclined to travel very lightly with regard to spiritual dogma and ritual, carrying with me only those teachings and ideas that hold great value and power for me personally. In recent years, I've come to feel that, perhaps, I really don't believe in anything at all, and so have viewed myself, more and more, as a-religious.
That really isn't the truth, however. I do believe, strongly, in the creative divine -- the force that binds us each and all, and that works through us all to create the world and the universe anew in every moment. I believe that prayer is the evolutionary engine, and that we are driven to the expression of the mystery precisely because we know it is the truth of every atom and every cell across time and distance. I'm not Christian, and I'm not attracted to much that passes for "organized" religion, but I am most definitely a believer, and today I am reclaiming that for myself.
I first came to be aware of my own spiritual power when I was a child only 9 or 10 years old. I can still see myself in my mind's eye, standing in church, dressed in my red coat and hat, hearing the things that were just part of the accepted mythology of my Catholic upbringing, and thinking that it made no sense at all. I remember looking at my parents, looking around at the other adults nearby, looking back to the priest, and deciding that there was some huge lie being perpetrated by the lot of them. It was a seminal moment in my growing up. I never believed in the same way again. However, once I was freed from that foolishness, I became curious about what really might be going on when people gathered to pray and worship. I experimented with my own focus and my own attention and my own inner senses, and found that there were vibrations and currents around the whole experience that I could tap into and manipulate and wonder at. I found that I could reach out with my mind and make contact with people -- and it gave me a wicked thrill when, doing that, I could startle the priest at mass, or my teachers, or a bus driver, or... From that point on, I loved learning about the mystery that lies beyond our perceptions. From Ouija boards, to ghosts, to astral projection, I was hungry for experience and understanding of the spirit realm. As I got older, I found myself fascinated with mystics and theologians who could take me beyond the typical Sunday school understanding of the life of the spirit, and so I became a student of Paul Tillich, and Martin Buber, and Kathleen Norris. I read about reincarnation theology, and practiced the tricks of astral projection. I studied with a Lakota Sioux teacher, and I learned to push storms around from a wiccan friend. Oh yes, there's plenty I believe in, although I imagine that the average priest or minister would be horrified to know the contents of my "backpack."
I guess that all of that is a long-winded, round-about way of announcing to those who read here that I am off on a spiritual sojourn. I have no intention of leaving my loves or leaving my family, and I am determined to continue to fight for our mutual healing and future happiness, but I have personal work to do. As Tom and I chatted yesterday, he insisted that I have absolute freedom to do whatever I want, and while I might dispute that, I am free to believe and practice as I choose. It is high time that I got to work becoming whoever I am supposed to be in this life. Eight years is a long sabbatical. Back to work...
I'll be re-reading a book that I first found many years ago. It is called "Healing into Immortality," by Gerald Epstein, copyright 1994. It is billed as a new spiritual medicine of healing stories and imagery," and it takes a frankly religious approach to personal healing. I remember, from my first encounter with it, that I had to school myself to read it even when the language was more "churchy" than I was comfortable with. That said, I came to value it as a powerful guide to personal wellness, and I need to relearn the lessons it contains.
I'll be talking my way through its pages here in the next weeks and months. If you are interested in the dialog, then feel free to talk with me about it. If not, consider yourself warned -- it might be that you'll want to skip our place and find someplace that is more (or even a little bit) kinky. Believe me, I do understand...
I am also contemplating a return to Quaker meeting for worship. I haven't been to meeting for worship since I moved here to Ohio. In the early years, I could not find a meeting close to home, but today I looked and there is an unprogrammed Friends meeting nearby. I am feeling drawn to the power of that silence. Perhaps tomorrow. Or in a week... I don't know, but I believe I'd benefit from worshiping with Friends again.
There is nothing earth-shaking in any of that, and probably, for most of our readers, nothing even interesting. For me, however, it feels like a start toward something that feels whole and powerful and promising.
Sue
I've felt lost and hopeless a lot, fearing for our future, and completely unsure what to do to try and bring us to some sort of peace or healing. I believe that what we have created together is special and unique and worth fighting for. I am convinced that we are strong enough to survive this. I think we have great gifts of strength and resilience and intellect that could all be put to work in service to saving our life and our love...
And I cannot see into what will be. I cannot be sure. I do not know.
Today, though, I seem to have broken through a barrier in my own thinking, and I do not feel so paralyzed. Today, it seems clear to me that I can begin to heal myself. I can't change what has happened, and I can't control what will happen, but I can reclaim my own power, and learn to be strong for myself and my family.
I am about to undertake a journey into my own spirituality -- something that was, once, a big part of my life, and something that I have in large part let go of during these last 8 years. I have, through much of my adult life, called myself a "spiritual backpacker." By that, I mean that I am inclined to travel very lightly with regard to spiritual dogma and ritual, carrying with me only those teachings and ideas that hold great value and power for me personally. In recent years, I've come to feel that, perhaps, I really don't believe in anything at all, and so have viewed myself, more and more, as a-religious.
That really isn't the truth, however. I do believe, strongly, in the creative divine -- the force that binds us each and all, and that works through us all to create the world and the universe anew in every moment. I believe that prayer is the evolutionary engine, and that we are driven to the expression of the mystery precisely because we know it is the truth of every atom and every cell across time and distance. I'm not Christian, and I'm not attracted to much that passes for "organized" religion, but I am most definitely a believer, and today I am reclaiming that for myself.
I first came to be aware of my own spiritual power when I was a child only 9 or 10 years old. I can still see myself in my mind's eye, standing in church, dressed in my red coat and hat, hearing the things that were just part of the accepted mythology of my Catholic upbringing, and thinking that it made no sense at all. I remember looking at my parents, looking around at the other adults nearby, looking back to the priest, and deciding that there was some huge lie being perpetrated by the lot of them. It was a seminal moment in my growing up. I never believed in the same way again. However, once I was freed from that foolishness, I became curious about what really might be going on when people gathered to pray and worship. I experimented with my own focus and my own attention and my own inner senses, and found that there were vibrations and currents around the whole experience that I could tap into and manipulate and wonder at. I found that I could reach out with my mind and make contact with people -- and it gave me a wicked thrill when, doing that, I could startle the priest at mass, or my teachers, or a bus driver, or... From that point on, I loved learning about the mystery that lies beyond our perceptions. From Ouija boards, to ghosts, to astral projection, I was hungry for experience and understanding of the spirit realm. As I got older, I found myself fascinated with mystics and theologians who could take me beyond the typical Sunday school understanding of the life of the spirit, and so I became a student of Paul Tillich, and Martin Buber, and Kathleen Norris. I read about reincarnation theology, and practiced the tricks of astral projection. I studied with a Lakota Sioux teacher, and I learned to push storms around from a wiccan friend. Oh yes, there's plenty I believe in, although I imagine that the average priest or minister would be horrified to know the contents of my "backpack."
I guess that all of that is a long-winded, round-about way of announcing to those who read here that I am off on a spiritual sojourn. I have no intention of leaving my loves or leaving my family, and I am determined to continue to fight for our mutual healing and future happiness, but I have personal work to do. As Tom and I chatted yesterday, he insisted that I have absolute freedom to do whatever I want, and while I might dispute that, I am free to believe and practice as I choose. It is high time that I got to work becoming whoever I am supposed to be in this life. Eight years is a long sabbatical. Back to work...
I'll be re-reading a book that I first found many years ago. It is called "Healing into Immortality," by Gerald Epstein, copyright 1994. It is billed as a new spiritual medicine of healing stories and imagery," and it takes a frankly religious approach to personal healing. I remember, from my first encounter with it, that I had to school myself to read it even when the language was more "churchy" than I was comfortable with. That said, I came to value it as a powerful guide to personal wellness, and I need to relearn the lessons it contains.
I'll be talking my way through its pages here in the next weeks and months. If you are interested in the dialog, then feel free to talk with me about it. If not, consider yourself warned -- it might be that you'll want to skip our place and find someplace that is more (or even a little bit) kinky. Believe me, I do understand...
There is nothing earth-shaking in any of that, and probably, for most of our readers, nothing even interesting. For me, however, it feels like a start toward something that feels whole and powerful and promising.
Sue
12/17/2010
How Things Are Now
My "life" continues now in day 47. I continue to blow between 7 and 10 randomized blood alcohol electronic tests on demand each day to stay out of jail. I no longer am as enraged and as intent on dying as I was in reaction to continuing this existence. That development feels like a huge defeat. When I deluded myself that I had the courage and dignity to end this, I felt a degree of self worth and self-determination. Now that it is clear that I exist only at the whim of the court, the police and whatever it is that t and swan will tolerate lest they call 9-1-1, I feel such a sense of shame and worthlessness, I want only to not exist..............except that, of course, I lack what it takes to take that step.
Our interactions here between the three of us are more pleasant and much more affectionate. We are not continually fighting.......which means I am not fighting as continually. It became clear in the aftermath of Sue's and my confrontation last weekend, that she and t are pretty content with however it is that I feel, so long as I don't make life uncomfortable for them. The fact is I can be angry with them forever if I choose to, it helps nothing........and besides by what right would someone as despicable as I, have to be angry with anyone for anything.
I have 13 days before I stand before the court again for yet another pre-trial. Who knows what if anything I will have to do or suffer as a result of that. At least this time I will (at least at the beginning of the proceeding) not stand before them barefoot in only pajamas and hogtied in wrist and ankle chains. My attorney is hopeful, although he is unable to describe what a hopeful outcome might entail. It is entirely possible, and perhaps likely, I could, at the least, be mandated to undergo months and possibly years of electronic surveillance, probation, treatment by assholes who have no understanding of anything but genetic alcoholism, and who superimpose that projection onto everyone, and immersion in the alcohol-centric religious cult. There is a good deal of potential too that nothing will be resolved at this next hearing, but continued degrading and expensive electronic pre-trial supervision monitoring (my present status in that I am technically still "innocent") none of which may be credited against my eventual sentence......or diversion program.
My therapist gave me the latest in personality inventories. I came out as narcissistic, hystrionic, controlling, dominant, sadist who is currently experiencing, transitorially, PTSD and anxiety. I am always amazed at psychometry's amazing degree of accuracy.
My therapist is uncertain where she and I should go in terms of goals. The personality test was part of a diagnostic "fishing expedition" in that regard. It turns out that she has a good bit of experience working with people in jail and recovering from jail. She assures me my reaction is normal and not nearly as severe as many. She further tells me that recovery takes time and that my unique personality type (as documented by the peronsality inventory just completed) is prone to react with greater pain, than most, to the experience I have had. She has worked with me enough to clarify that she is convinced I am not a "genetic alcoholic." She thinks of course that the safest way of dealing with drinking is total abstinence, but is not convinced that I must absolutely never ever drink again. She, by the way, it turns out, is an avowed genetic alcoholic, who is now a moderate drinker, after 20+ years of total abstinence and has a very successful and healthy life. It will be interesting to see where we go from here, she and I.
We are on the verge of what appears to be a horrid Christmas. It is the first for me to include no alcohol in 41 years. It is not difficult for me to be restricted from alcohol for other holidays. They are all really just another day with super-imposed festivities of one sort or another. Somehow Christmas has always had this mystical wondrous quality for me. I guess I never recovered from believing in Santa Claus. This is really the first "healthy" Christmas for me since my gastric bypass surgery. Last Christmas I was only about three weeks out from recovering from my emergency bowel obstruction surgery and post operative complications. Then we sent sue out to Denver to visit with her new grand baby immediately before Christmas. She returned for the holiday feeling quite neurotic and determined to end our relationship and family. So the 2009 Christmas holiday was never "real" for me. Now I have the holiday with no ability to feast, no ability to drink, unless I want to be immediately hauled off to jail, the first Christmas since my father died, the first Christmas since my daughter ended our relationship, and the first Christmas since I lost my career, and the first Christmas I have been unemployed in 43 years. Too, there is the stress and sadness surrounding t's Mom who has just entered hospice care, and whose future is at best unclear, as was our situation with my Dad last Christmas. I wish I could just close my eyes and, if I must wake up at all, awaken again January 15, when all this is forgotten in the head long rush into the new year.
Sue is taken with my therapist's discussing what it is we need to do as a family to restore what we had prior to October 28 and the ensuing disastorus cascade of events, or what it is, of what we had, we want to survive this upheaval. Sue generally discusses this in terms of our need for us to return to our "D/s." I am stuck trying to imagine how we do D/s, now that it is clear that D/s means that she and t make the major decisions in terms of how I live my life, how I pursue pleasure, with whom I relate and how, etc. as has become clear over the past year. Sue is responding to this by saying that everything that has been posted here at The Heron Clan has been a lie, and she is going to delete this Blog.....to shut it down. I am feeling that what has happened the last 8+ years was not a lie for me. She and t can wreck my present, and have eliminated my future, but they do not get to destroy my past as well.
She has just ordered two books from Amazon that are written by a clinical psychologist who is purportedly the leading figure in emotion cantered family (couples)therapy, in families effected by PTSD. We are discussing the three of us reading them, perhaps to each other over the holiday. Wouldn't It be interesting if we are able to provide some assistance ourselves in untying this giant family "KNOT."
So that is where I am at present in all this. We shall see how things proceed.
Tom
Our interactions here between the three of us are more pleasant and much more affectionate. We are not continually fighting.......which means I am not fighting as continually. It became clear in the aftermath of Sue's and my confrontation last weekend, that she and t are pretty content with however it is that I feel, so long as I don't make life uncomfortable for them. The fact is I can be angry with them forever if I choose to, it helps nothing........and besides by what right would someone as despicable as I, have to be angry with anyone for anything.
I have 13 days before I stand before the court again for yet another pre-trial. Who knows what if anything I will have to do or suffer as a result of that. At least this time I will (at least at the beginning of the proceeding) not stand before them barefoot in only pajamas and hogtied in wrist and ankle chains. My attorney is hopeful, although he is unable to describe what a hopeful outcome might entail. It is entirely possible, and perhaps likely, I could, at the least, be mandated to undergo months and possibly years of electronic surveillance, probation, treatment by assholes who have no understanding of anything but genetic alcoholism, and who superimpose that projection onto everyone, and immersion in the alcohol-centric religious cult. There is a good deal of potential too that nothing will be resolved at this next hearing, but continued degrading and expensive electronic pre-trial supervision monitoring (my present status in that I am technically still "innocent") none of which may be credited against my eventual sentence......or diversion program.
My therapist gave me the latest in personality inventories. I came out as narcissistic, hystrionic, controlling, dominant, sadist who is currently experiencing, transitorially, PTSD and anxiety. I am always amazed at psychometry's amazing degree of accuracy.
My therapist is uncertain where she and I should go in terms of goals. The personality test was part of a diagnostic "fishing expedition" in that regard. It turns out that she has a good bit of experience working with people in jail and recovering from jail. She assures me my reaction is normal and not nearly as severe as many. She further tells me that recovery takes time and that my unique personality type (as documented by the peronsality inventory just completed) is prone to react with greater pain, than most, to the experience I have had. She has worked with me enough to clarify that she is convinced I am not a "genetic alcoholic." She thinks of course that the safest way of dealing with drinking is total abstinence, but is not convinced that I must absolutely never ever drink again. She, by the way, it turns out, is an avowed genetic alcoholic, who is now a moderate drinker, after 20+ years of total abstinence and has a very successful and healthy life. It will be interesting to see where we go from here, she and I.
We are on the verge of what appears to be a horrid Christmas. It is the first for me to include no alcohol in 41 years. It is not difficult for me to be restricted from alcohol for other holidays. They are all really just another day with super-imposed festivities of one sort or another. Somehow Christmas has always had this mystical wondrous quality for me. I guess I never recovered from believing in Santa Claus. This is really the first "healthy" Christmas for me since my gastric bypass surgery. Last Christmas I was only about three weeks out from recovering from my emergency bowel obstruction surgery and post operative complications. Then we sent sue out to Denver to visit with her new grand baby immediately before Christmas. She returned for the holiday feeling quite neurotic and determined to end our relationship and family. So the 2009 Christmas holiday was never "real" for me. Now I have the holiday with no ability to feast, no ability to drink, unless I want to be immediately hauled off to jail, the first Christmas since my father died, the first Christmas since my daughter ended our relationship, and the first Christmas since I lost my career, and the first Christmas I have been unemployed in 43 years. Too, there is the stress and sadness surrounding t's Mom who has just entered hospice care, and whose future is at best unclear, as was our situation with my Dad last Christmas. I wish I could just close my eyes and, if I must wake up at all, awaken again January 15, when all this is forgotten in the head long rush into the new year.
Sue is taken with my therapist's discussing what it is we need to do as a family to restore what we had prior to October 28 and the ensuing disastorus cascade of events, or what it is, of what we had, we want to survive this upheaval. Sue generally discusses this in terms of our need for us to return to our "D/s." I am stuck trying to imagine how we do D/s, now that it is clear that D/s means that she and t make the major decisions in terms of how I live my life, how I pursue pleasure, with whom I relate and how, etc. as has become clear over the past year. Sue is responding to this by saying that everything that has been posted here at The Heron Clan has been a lie, and she is going to delete this Blog.....to shut it down. I am feeling that what has happened the last 8+ years was not a lie for me. She and t can wreck my present, and have eliminated my future, but they do not get to destroy my past as well.
She has just ordered two books from Amazon that are written by a clinical psychologist who is purportedly the leading figure in emotion cantered family (couples)therapy, in families effected by PTSD. We are discussing the three of us reading them, perhaps to each other over the holiday. Wouldn't It be interesting if we are able to provide some assistance ourselves in untying this giant family "KNOT."
So that is where I am at present in all this. We shall see how things proceed.
Tom
12/16/2010
D. H. Lawrence -- The Poetry of the Present
We are caught. Caught between our recent past, and our impending future. The past is filled with pain and a deep sense of loss and regret. The future is a murky and scary mess. Between them, we are trying to stay alive, trying to find the occasional moment of rest and gentleness. It is exhausting.
So... There is little to say here. Everything feels impossible, and every word that any of us write carries enormous risks... Instead, here is a wondrous bit of poetic essay from D. H. Lawrence. Perhaps it can be enough for today.
swan
...But there is another kind of poetry: the poetry of that which is at hand: the immediate present. In the immediate present there is no perfection, no consummation, nothing finished. The strands are all flying, quivering, intermingling into the web, the waters are shaking the moon. There is no round, consummate moon on the face of running water, nor on the face of the unfinished tide. There are no gems of the living plasm. The living plasm vibrates unspeakably, it inhales the future, it exhales the past, it is the quick of both, and yet it is neither. There is no plasmic finality, nothing crystal, permanent. If we try to fix the living tissue, as the biologists fix it with formation, we have only a hardened bit of the past, the bygone life under our observation.
So... There is little to say here. Everything feels impossible, and every word that any of us write carries enormous risks... Instead, here is a wondrous bit of poetic essay from D. H. Lawrence. Perhaps it can be enough for today.
swan
...But there is another kind of poetry: the poetry of that which is at hand: the immediate present. In the immediate present there is no perfection, no consummation, nothing finished. The strands are all flying, quivering, intermingling into the web, the waters are shaking the moon. There is no round, consummate moon on the face of running water, nor on the face of the unfinished tide. There are no gems of the living plasm. The living plasm vibrates unspeakably, it inhales the future, it exhales the past, it is the quick of both, and yet it is neither. There is no plasmic finality, nothing crystal, permanent. If we try to fix the living tissue, as the biologists fix it with formation, we have only a hardened bit of the past, the bygone life under our observation.
Life, the ever-present, knows no finality, no finished crystallisation. The perfect rose is only a running flame, emerging and flowing off, and never in any sense at rest, static, finished. Herein lies its transcendent loveliness. The whole tide of all life and all time suddenly heaves, and appears before us as an apparition, a revelation. We look at the very white quick of nascent creation. A water-lily heaves herself from the flood, looks round, gleams, and is gone. We have seen the incarnation, the quick of the ever-swirling flood. We have seen the invisible. We have seen, we have touched, we have partaken of the very substance of creative change, creative mutation. If you tell me about the lotus, tell me of nothing changeless or eternal. Tell me of the incarnate disclosure of the flux, mutation in blossom, laughter and decay perfectly open in their transit, nude in their movement before us.
Let me feel the mud and the heavens in my lotus. Let me feel the heavy, silting, sucking mud, the spinning of sky winds. Let me feel them both in purest contact, the nakedness of sucking weight, nakedly passing radiance. ..
12/15/2010
Restore
We had a brief exchange this afternoon about what lies ahead for us as we work to restore or rehabilitate or recreate our relationship. We are a good long ways from the beginning of that work. There is much that must be dealt with first, before we are at liberty to take up the restoration of our lives.
Looking for synonyms for the word, "restore," here is what I found --
bring back, build up, cure, heal, improve, make healthy, make restitution, mend, modernize, reanimate, rebuild, recall, recondition, reconstitute, reconstruct, recover, redeem, reerect, reestablish, refresh, refurbish, rehabilitate, reimpose, reinforce, reinstate, reintroduce, rejuvenate, renew, renovate, repair, replace, rescue, retouch, revitalize, revive, revivify, set to rights, strengthen, touch up, update, win back
swan
Looking for synonyms for the word, "restore," here is what I found --
bring back, build up, cure, heal, improve, make healthy, make restitution, mend, modernize, reanimate, rebuild, recall, recondition, reconstitute, reconstruct, recover, redeem, reerect, reestablish, refresh, refurbish, rehabilitate, reimpose, reinforce, reinstate, reintroduce, rejuvenate, renew, renovate, repair, replace, rescue, retouch, revitalize, revive, revivify, set to rights, strengthen, touch up, update, win back
swan
12/14/2010
Touch Me
There is distance between He and I these days. We are, at best, tentative with one another. On other days, on other nights, we each sleep plastered on our respective far edges of our king-size bed. We've managed, on just a few mornings, to make love -- but even that is subdued, damped down, lacking the fire that once characterized our every interaction. It isn't surprising. Really, it isn't...
My mind, however, seems intent on filling the gaps, and my subconscious seems to be quite blatantly working to keep me in touch with the sensual and sexual parts of who I am. And so -- I dream.
Of feather light touches.
Of a single fingertip tracing its way across my skin.
Of warm, strong hands cupping the places that curve.
Of muscles kneaded with slow rhythms.
Of delicate tracery along the contours of my face, down the bridge of my nose, and around the bow of my lips.
Of fingernail scratches leaving faint red tracks on the whiteness of my belly and my breasts.
Of secret crevices and downy patches probed and petted.
None of that is in my immediate future. Those hungers will go on for however long. The dreams, the late night visions and imaginings will have to suffice. For now.
For now.
swan
My mind, however, seems intent on filling the gaps, and my subconscious seems to be quite blatantly working to keep me in touch with the sensual and sexual parts of who I am. And so -- I dream.
Of a single fingertip tracing its way across my skin.
Of warm, strong hands cupping the places that curve.
Of muscles kneaded with slow rhythms.
Of delicate tracery along the contours of my face, down the bridge of my nose, and around the bow of my lips.
Of fingernail scratches leaving faint red tracks on the whiteness of my belly and my breasts.
Of secret crevices and downy patches probed and petted.
None of that is in my immediate future. Those hungers will go on for however long. The dreams, the late night visions and imaginings will have to suffice. For now.
For now.
swan
12/13/2010
I Can't Leave
He and I ended up toe to toe and eyeball to eyeball over the weekend, because I tried to leave on Saturday afternoon.
It was me, being weak, and I am ashamed of myself. He's been so wounded and so angry -- furious really. Most of our interactions include not even slightly veiled references to the events of October 28, to my role in bringing those events about, to my failure to behave in any way that seems in keeping with the power exchange dynamic that has been foundational to our relationship. Over and over and over again, He expresses His wish that He did not have to go on living this reality.
All of that hurts me; makes me sad; feels unfair ... and, feeling all of that, I tend to become angry myself. I am not nearly as good as T is in the face of all of this. She is unfailingly calm, patient, gentle, sweet, loving, and supportive. She always seems to know what to say -- and she seems to have some limitless stockpile of "right" things to say. I, on the other hand, become furious, resentful, and frantic to escape the whole mess.
And so, there we were, faced off with one another -- both unwilling to bend or give an inch. Except that -- I did not, ultimately, leave. I am still here.
The reason? He would not allow me to go. He stood in front of me, clearly upset, absolutely furious with me -- and refused to let me walk out the door. Perhaps I could have pushed harder, turned the whole thing into a physical confrontation -- but short of that, there was no way that I was leaving.
Today, I asked Him why He wouldn't let me go? "Tell me. Please. It's important."
He told me, "I love you. I need you. I don't see any sort of future without you."
And I pushed and pressed and asked: "Is that it? Is that all? I think there is more..."
He was mystified; had no answer to my questions, and wondered why I felt that it was so important. Well, here's why:
I think that I am still here precisely because He insisted that I stay. I am here tonight ONLY because He was unwilling to allow me to leave. For seven weeks now, He's insisted that His dominance ended on that awful day in October. He's repeatedly stated that He is now the submissive, and He's tagged both T and I as "His Dominants." It is true that our SM play has fallen silent in these weeks, and it is true that He's not feeling particularly turned on by the spanking stuff that used to be His continual passion. But DOMINANCE is more than that -- much more. As grim as that confrontation was on Saturday, one thing was crystal clear -- He was quite certain that He wanted me to stay, was not going to let me leave, and had the absolute right to make that be the reality.
He might not like me much right now. He is unflinchingly furious with me, and He surely blames me for making the decisions I did on October 28. We are nowhere near a resolution of our feelings and responses around that crisis point, and we may not achieve any sort of peace over it for a very long time. It doesn't matter. He is the "owner" in our relationship and I am His "property." I can feel as bad as I feel. I can be all bent out of shape about how "unfair" it all seems. I can wish that my apologies would fix things, and I can wish that my intent were taken at face value. How that will all turn out, in the long term, remains to be revealed. What is clear is that His Dominance remains, unshaken and unshakeable (and nevermind His protestations to the contrary).
I have an odd mixture of feelings about all of that. I am astonished at the arrogance of the Man. I know that I am, most likely, the only one who finds that part at all surprising, but there it is. More though, I find that there is some comfort and reassurance in all of this. He is not gone, not at all powerless, not when it comes right down to it. His move to dominance may be at a low ebb, and I think that in this period of crisis, exercising control over me takes more energy than He can muster most of the time. That makes perfect sense to me.
swan
It was me, being weak, and I am ashamed of myself. He's been so wounded and so angry -- furious really. Most of our interactions include not even slightly veiled references to the events of October 28, to my role in bringing those events about, to my failure to behave in any way that seems in keeping with the power exchange dynamic that has been foundational to our relationship. Over and over and over again, He expresses His wish that He did not have to go on living this reality.
All of that hurts me; makes me sad; feels unfair ... and, feeling all of that, I tend to become angry myself. I am not nearly as good as T is in the face of all of this. She is unfailingly calm, patient, gentle, sweet, loving, and supportive. She always seems to know what to say -- and she seems to have some limitless stockpile of "right" things to say. I, on the other hand, become furious, resentful, and frantic to escape the whole mess.
And so, there we were, faced off with one another -- both unwilling to bend or give an inch. Except that -- I did not, ultimately, leave. I am still here.
Today, I asked Him why He wouldn't let me go? "Tell me. Please. It's important."
He told me, "I love you. I need you. I don't see any sort of future without you."
And I pushed and pressed and asked: "Is that it? Is that all? I think there is more..."
He was mystified; had no answer to my questions, and wondered why I felt that it was so important. Well, here's why:
I think that I am still here precisely because He insisted that I stay. I am here tonight ONLY because He was unwilling to allow me to leave. For seven weeks now, He's insisted that His dominance ended on that awful day in October. He's repeatedly stated that He is now the submissive, and He's tagged both T and I as "His Dominants." It is true that our SM play has fallen silent in these weeks, and it is true that He's not feeling particularly turned on by the spanking stuff that used to be His continual passion. But DOMINANCE is more than that -- much more. As grim as that confrontation was on Saturday, one thing was crystal clear -- He was quite certain that He wanted me to stay, was not going to let me leave, and had the absolute right to make that be the reality.
He might not like me much right now. He is unflinchingly furious with me, and He surely blames me for making the decisions I did on October 28. We are nowhere near a resolution of our feelings and responses around that crisis point, and we may not achieve any sort of peace over it for a very long time. It doesn't matter. He is the "owner" in our relationship and I am His "property." I can feel as bad as I feel. I can be all bent out of shape about how "unfair" it all seems. I can wish that my apologies would fix things, and I can wish that my intent were taken at face value. How that will all turn out, in the long term, remains to be revealed. What is clear is that His Dominance remains, unshaken and unshakeable (and nevermind His protestations to the contrary).
I have an odd mixture of feelings about all of that. I am astonished at the arrogance of the Man. I know that I am, most likely, the only one who finds that part at all surprising, but there it is. More though, I find that there is some comfort and reassurance in all of this. He is not gone, not at all powerless, not when it comes right down to it. His move to dominance may be at a low ebb, and I think that in this period of crisis, exercising control over me takes more energy than He can muster most of the time. That makes perfect sense to me.
swan
12/11/2010
Knee Update
I know....this is not what you are all peeking around here to see....but there are a few people who have kept track of my TKR so here is the update.....
The PT guy can barely get his hand under my knee when I flatten it out on the table...this is very good. I have out-patient PT 3 times a week.
I can bend the knee to 117% ....the goal is 120% by 6 weeks......this is week 3. So they are very pleased.
I can walk a grocery store using a cart as support and do not need to use the electric carts unless I am tired.
I am able to drive.
I can walk around the condos without my cane, as long as I use my head and if I am tired, use the damned cane.
I don't have to wear the support stockings. I am off Coumadin. I am down to 1 pain pill every 4-6 hours.
I think that is the most recent info. I return to work on Jan. 3rd, so I am right on track for that to occur.
t
The PT guy can barely get his hand under my knee when I flatten it out on the table...this is very good. I have out-patient PT 3 times a week.
I can bend the knee to 117% ....the goal is 120% by 6 weeks......this is week 3. So they are very pleased.
I can walk a grocery store using a cart as support and do not need to use the electric carts unless I am tired.
I am able to drive.
I can walk around the condos without my cane, as long as I use my head and if I am tired, use the damned cane.
I don't have to wear the support stockings. I am off Coumadin. I am down to 1 pain pill every 4-6 hours.
I think that is the most recent info. I return to work on Jan. 3rd, so I am right on track for that to occur.
t
12/07/2010
My Response to swan's Love Letter
I too love you and always will. My continual refrain to you "Mine Always and All Ways," has meant to me that we are one unendingly, just as I am with Teresa, and that the three of us are bonded throughout all time. I more than believe this. I know it as a fact, as firmly as I know gravity bonds my feet to the earth or that (unfortunately) each night is followed by yet another day for me to realize the reality that I am no longer a man.
I love your mind...your intellect, your spirituality, your courage in living each day as you do and in having me and us. I love your voice, and how you weave a spell of love, safety, encouragement, discipline, faith, values, information, and science into tremendous growth for your students. I wonder at how common it is for your students to demonstrate that you are, for them, one of those special teachers who remake their lives, and who they will always remember, and feel grateful, to have had in their life. I am so proud of your career as an educator. I love how you have made my advocacy yours (when advocacy I still had). I love the way you see the world. I love SM with you. I love sex with you. I love your cooking. I love your undying dedication to me and staying with me, serving me, protecting me, advocating with me, sleeping next to me, in a chair if that is all that is available to you, while I am hospitalized. I love your political beliefs and passion which is so congruent with my own. I love your writing. I love, I love, I love, I love, I love you.
It is great to remember the history we have had. I could not agree more that we share star-crossed paths. I do believe absolutely that you, t and I were destined to be who we are together. I too cannot imagine life without either of you.
My issue is I cannot imagine continuing to live. This morning I awakened to the 37th consecutive day living as I do not choose to, as I never have chosen to live, traumatized by memories of being subjected to treatment that would not be allowed for a dog in a pound, the gravest public humiliation and degradation, and knowing fully well that that will likely be only a small and brief taste of what lies ahead for me.
I am, as I sit here, continuing to wear an electronic monitoring device on my ankle which has me continually monitored so that were I to drink I could be immediately incarcerated. That monitor has so aggravated my diabetic neuropathy that my right foot has gone numb. They moved it a week ago then to my left ankle. Now my left foot is numb too. It is likely that in something like the U. S. version of sharia law I will be required to have both my feet amputated if I have to continue wearing this thing, for allegations of domestic violence and inducing panic my attorney tells me are without legal merit. Being tethered via electronics to the state so that they may come and imprison you for doing nothing is not a life I intend to live. I am told by my probation officer that his probation office's statistics indicate that, on average, anyone who has a TAD (i. e., the electronic monitoring device on my ankle) placed on him from their office, has it on for two and a half years at the discretion of the court. Of course, that is an average. Some wear them for shorter times and others for five years or even more.
You write how you loved my strength, courage, tenacity, optimism, ability
to see solutions to problems others did not, my willingness to take on any issue, etc. Yes, that was like who I used to be although you have certainly, in your love and devotion to me, enhanced my attributes in your mind, and I love you for doing that.
That man died October 28, in the Wal Mart parking lot, and naked and freezing in solitary confinement November 1, and standing freezing and shivering in court dressed just beyond naked, hogtied in wrist and ankle shackles, November 1 and again November 4. He died yesterday as I waited to go back to court at noon today, fully expecting I might be put back in jail, or at least be mandated to continue to be monitored, and forced into unwanted treatment, that I will have to pretend to value to not be reincarcerated, only to get a call at the end of the afternoon telling me that now they will not hear my case again until December 30. I died again when I woke up this morning to visions of all of this replaying again in my head and facing yet another day I'd much prefer not to suffer through. I have no feelings but pain and despair.
Our great love was predicated on our D/s. It was based on the belief that you were acquiescent to my vision, my will, my desire, my pleasure, etc. It was what you expressed desperate need for as you came to me. You specifically wanted that with me. It was the deepest honor you paid to me that anyone could pay another. It began to end this past year as increasingly you insisted that your need for me to stop drinking took precedence over my wishes and happiness. In that I was having (then unexplainable) increasing problems with alcohol related extreme intoxication, black outs, etc. (we had not yet put together the effects of the changes to my body's reactions to alcohol due to my gastric bypass surgery)and out of concern for you and t, I began working collaboratively to change my drinking....even abstaining entirely and working through research and planning to change my behavior to try to maintain my drinking at a very limited level. I even went so far as to switch with you disciplinarily (a huge trauma for us both) to try to achieve that accommodation of your needs superimposed on mine ( a very odd emanation of a M/s relationship.....but none the less ours.)
We were progressing on then with my successfully drinking within moderate limits until we reached October 28. That was the day my life stopped and shattered, and has never returned to being worth living since. You called 9-1-1 that day and reported me for an off-handed comment I made. It resulted in a massively disproportionate police response which was harassing, dangerous, hurtful and only barely missed my being jailed and our car confiscated.......FOR NOTHING! You repeatedly tell me that you had no idea that when you call 9-1-1 you get a police response. You continuously ask me to forgive you. You have been forgiven time and time again. Forgiving you does not end the wound I have. I am not well. I am broken. This was the genesis of this hurt. It had nothing to do with drinking.
You knew fully well that I have a life-long fear of and hate for the police, You knew that I have a great phobia of being taken away by the police. You know that I am continuously armed fearing that I might need to defend myself from the government's paid thugs (which is what police are) from taking me away unjustly. Knowing that, you initiated that occurring to me.
You were amazed and horrified that that experience, I have phobically feared throughout my life having occurred, I became devastated, felt betrayed, enraged, acted out violently against you, and self-injuriously, imagining all sorts of terrible things that might then further be done to me, and yes I drank. I violated my own plan to drink moderately. I was terribly out of control. I was violent. I was abusive particularly to you. You were terrorized. You were horrified. You grabbed t who was away for the weekend with her Mom before she returned and took refuge in a motel, and eventually after outrageously crazy phone calls from me in a drunken psychotic state claiming I had horribly intentionally hurt myself, called 9-1-1 again resulting in my eventual incarceration in inhumane conditions ( a unique approach to responding to someone in a suicidal psychiatric emergency.........it doesn't enhance one's desire to live).
You have then responded that your responsibility is that, I have been terribly ill for years and you should have "forced" me to get help. This is another interesting juxtaposition of a M/s relationship. You believe that the problem in this scenario is mostly my alcohol consumption, and my inability to grasp this is some sort of alcoholism disease model denial, reaction formation, and/or some additional defense mechanisms clouding my reasoning.
There is an analogy about a man who encounters a man crawling about all fours in the grass under a street light. He approaches the man and asks him why he is doing this, concerned he might be ill or need help. He tells him he is looking for his lost wedding ring. So he offers to help him find it and asks him where he was when he dropped the ring and when he lost it? The man who was searching responds, that he lost it ten years ago a mile up the road, but he is looking here, now because the light is better.
The reasoning that man used to decide on his search location is like the logic that the primary problem in our situation October 28 through November 1 was my drinking.
I am not drinking now nor have I for 37 days. I cannot honestly say I have quit drinking in that were I to drink, I would be immediately jailed. For me to say I have quit drinking at this point would be like a person who has always ridden a bicycle with training wheels saying he has learned to balance and ride a bicycle. Until the training wheels are removed he really has no idea. In that I am not free to drink, while I can say I am not drinking, I cannot honestly claim to have quit.
.
We have many conflicts that evolved between you and I in this process. One of the greatest is that you and I both insist that we want our relationship to be an
on-going D/s relationship, presumably a restoration of the M/s we have aspired to for the past eight and a half years. Yet, you have come to define M/s as your determining major aspects of how I live my life, and how we live our lives, and I believe that M/s, even D/s, requires me being in the leadership role...a despotic role....in my case, I hope, a benevolently despotic role, but despotic none the less.
You have (and it being you I am not in the slightest bit surprised:) done some tremendous thinking and writing about our current status as a family, and what it is we need to accomplish to move forward.......to survive.
You talk about our claiming our responsibility. I claim my out of control drinking. I accept that my drinking is unsafe. I am of course not drinking now in that the consequences related to it are, of course, unacceptable. Anyone would have to be truly insane to drink under these circumstances. I agree to not drink for a year from November 1, should I get out from under the court's preventing me from drinking. I do not pledge to live through that period. I am not at all sure that I think that life on those terms is worth living. I think continuously of ending this nonsense. At this point my cowardice in the face of death is keeping me facing the horror that is my realization of my life at the beginning of each new day.
I am not drinking now. I didn't drink for 9 months surrounding t's and my gastric bypass surgeries. I didn't drink for over a month the end of August and all of September. That accounts for over 11 of the last 19 months. Yet all of these issues have burgeoned during this period of time. So is the evil of alcohol so pervasive that it is effecting us even when it is not present? If so, I might as well drink should I ever have freedom to again. It appears that simply because it exists in the world, it will make our lives impossible anyway.
Yes, I love you so passionately that I will not live my life without you. Too, I loved my life before. I have no desire to live my life as it is. It is most likely that I will have further restrictions imposed on me by the courts. I cannot imagine myself accepting life on the terms of lenghty probation and/or electronic monitoring. I will not accept further imprisonment. I don't want to continue to live as I am, simply out of fear of dying and inability to overcome a well developed survival instinct. This may be survival, but it is not life....
Tom
I love your mind...your intellect, your spirituality, your courage in living each day as you do and in having me and us. I love your voice, and how you weave a spell of love, safety, encouragement, discipline, faith, values, information, and science into tremendous growth for your students. I wonder at how common it is for your students to demonstrate that you are, for them, one of those special teachers who remake their lives, and who they will always remember, and feel grateful, to have had in their life. I am so proud of your career as an educator. I love how you have made my advocacy yours (when advocacy I still had). I love the way you see the world. I love SM with you. I love sex with you. I love your cooking. I love your undying dedication to me and staying with me, serving me, protecting me, advocating with me, sleeping next to me, in a chair if that is all that is available to you, while I am hospitalized. I love your political beliefs and passion which is so congruent with my own. I love your writing. I love, I love, I love, I love, I love you.
It is great to remember the history we have had. I could not agree more that we share star-crossed paths. I do believe absolutely that you, t and I were destined to be who we are together. I too cannot imagine life without either of you.
My issue is I cannot imagine continuing to live. This morning I awakened to the 37th consecutive day living as I do not choose to, as I never have chosen to live, traumatized by memories of being subjected to treatment that would not be allowed for a dog in a pound, the gravest public humiliation and degradation, and knowing fully well that that will likely be only a small and brief taste of what lies ahead for me.
I am, as I sit here, continuing to wear an electronic monitoring device on my ankle which has me continually monitored so that were I to drink I could be immediately incarcerated. That monitor has so aggravated my diabetic neuropathy that my right foot has gone numb. They moved it a week ago then to my left ankle. Now my left foot is numb too. It is likely that in something like the U. S. version of sharia law I will be required to have both my feet amputated if I have to continue wearing this thing, for allegations of domestic violence and inducing panic my attorney tells me are without legal merit. Being tethered via electronics to the state so that they may come and imprison you for doing nothing is not a life I intend to live. I am told by my probation officer that his probation office's statistics indicate that, on average, anyone who has a TAD (i. e., the electronic monitoring device on my ankle) placed on him from their office, has it on for two and a half years at the discretion of the court. Of course, that is an average. Some wear them for shorter times and others for five years or even more.
You write how you loved my strength, courage, tenacity, optimism, ability
to see solutions to problems others did not, my willingness to take on any issue, etc. Yes, that was like who I used to be although you have certainly, in your love and devotion to me, enhanced my attributes in your mind, and I love you for doing that.
That man died October 28, in the Wal Mart parking lot, and naked and freezing in solitary confinement November 1, and standing freezing and shivering in court dressed just beyond naked, hogtied in wrist and ankle shackles, November 1 and again November 4. He died yesterday as I waited to go back to court at noon today, fully expecting I might be put back in jail, or at least be mandated to continue to be monitored, and forced into unwanted treatment, that I will have to pretend to value to not be reincarcerated, only to get a call at the end of the afternoon telling me that now they will not hear my case again until December 30. I died again when I woke up this morning to visions of all of this replaying again in my head and facing yet another day I'd much prefer not to suffer through. I have no feelings but pain and despair.
Our great love was predicated on our D/s. It was based on the belief that you were acquiescent to my vision, my will, my desire, my pleasure, etc. It was what you expressed desperate need for as you came to me. You specifically wanted that with me. It was the deepest honor you paid to me that anyone could pay another. It began to end this past year as increasingly you insisted that your need for me to stop drinking took precedence over my wishes and happiness. In that I was having (then unexplainable) increasing problems with alcohol related extreme intoxication, black outs, etc. (we had not yet put together the effects of the changes to my body's reactions to alcohol due to my gastric bypass surgery)and out of concern for you and t, I began working collaboratively to change my drinking....even abstaining entirely and working through research and planning to change my behavior to try to maintain my drinking at a very limited level. I even went so far as to switch with you disciplinarily (a huge trauma for us both) to try to achieve that accommodation of your needs superimposed on mine ( a very odd emanation of a M/s relationship.....but none the less ours.)
We were progressing on then with my successfully drinking within moderate limits until we reached October 28. That was the day my life stopped and shattered, and has never returned to being worth living since. You called 9-1-1 that day and reported me for an off-handed comment I made. It resulted in a massively disproportionate police response which was harassing, dangerous, hurtful and only barely missed my being jailed and our car confiscated.......FOR NOTHING! You repeatedly tell me that you had no idea that when you call 9-1-1 you get a police response. You continuously ask me to forgive you. You have been forgiven time and time again. Forgiving you does not end the wound I have. I am not well. I am broken. This was the genesis of this hurt. It had nothing to do with drinking.
You knew fully well that I have a life-long fear of and hate for the police, You knew that I have a great phobia of being taken away by the police. You know that I am continuously armed fearing that I might need to defend myself from the government's paid thugs (which is what police are) from taking me away unjustly. Knowing that, you initiated that occurring to me.
You were amazed and horrified that that experience, I have phobically feared throughout my life having occurred, I became devastated, felt betrayed, enraged, acted out violently against you, and self-injuriously, imagining all sorts of terrible things that might then further be done to me, and yes I drank. I violated my own plan to drink moderately. I was terribly out of control. I was violent. I was abusive particularly to you. You were terrorized. You were horrified. You grabbed t who was away for the weekend with her Mom before she returned and took refuge in a motel, and eventually after outrageously crazy phone calls from me in a drunken psychotic state claiming I had horribly intentionally hurt myself, called 9-1-1 again resulting in my eventual incarceration in inhumane conditions ( a unique approach to responding to someone in a suicidal psychiatric emergency.........it doesn't enhance one's desire to live).
You have then responded that your responsibility is that, I have been terribly ill for years and you should have "forced" me to get help. This is another interesting juxtaposition of a M/s relationship. You believe that the problem in this scenario is mostly my alcohol consumption, and my inability to grasp this is some sort of alcoholism disease model denial, reaction formation, and/or some additional defense mechanisms clouding my reasoning.
There is an analogy about a man who encounters a man crawling about all fours in the grass under a street light. He approaches the man and asks him why he is doing this, concerned he might be ill or need help. He tells him he is looking for his lost wedding ring. So he offers to help him find it and asks him where he was when he dropped the ring and when he lost it? The man who was searching responds, that he lost it ten years ago a mile up the road, but he is looking here, now because the light is better.
The reasoning that man used to decide on his search location is like the logic that the primary problem in our situation October 28 through November 1 was my drinking.
I am not drinking now nor have I for 37 days. I cannot honestly say I have quit drinking in that were I to drink, I would be immediately jailed. For me to say I have quit drinking at this point would be like a person who has always ridden a bicycle with training wheels saying he has learned to balance and ride a bicycle. Until the training wheels are removed he really has no idea. In that I am not free to drink, while I can say I am not drinking, I cannot honestly claim to have quit.
.
We have many conflicts that evolved between you and I in this process. One of the greatest is that you and I both insist that we want our relationship to be an
on-going D/s relationship, presumably a restoration of the M/s we have aspired to for the past eight and a half years. Yet, you have come to define M/s as your determining major aspects of how I live my life, and how we live our lives, and I believe that M/s, even D/s, requires me being in the leadership role...a despotic role....in my case, I hope, a benevolently despotic role, but despotic none the less.
You have (and it being you I am not in the slightest bit surprised:) done some tremendous thinking and writing about our current status as a family, and what it is we need to accomplish to move forward.......to survive.
You talk about our claiming our responsibility. I claim my out of control drinking. I accept that my drinking is unsafe. I am of course not drinking now in that the consequences related to it are, of course, unacceptable. Anyone would have to be truly insane to drink under these circumstances. I agree to not drink for a year from November 1, should I get out from under the court's preventing me from drinking. I do not pledge to live through that period. I am not at all sure that I think that life on those terms is worth living. I think continuously of ending this nonsense. At this point my cowardice in the face of death is keeping me facing the horror that is my realization of my life at the beginning of each new day.
I am not drinking now. I didn't drink for 9 months surrounding t's and my gastric bypass surgeries. I didn't drink for over a month the end of August and all of September. That accounts for over 11 of the last 19 months. Yet all of these issues have burgeoned during this period of time. So is the evil of alcohol so pervasive that it is effecting us even when it is not present? If so, I might as well drink should I ever have freedom to again. It appears that simply because it exists in the world, it will make our lives impossible anyway.
Yes, I love you so passionately that I will not live my life without you. Too, I loved my life before. I have no desire to live my life as it is. It is most likely that I will have further restrictions imposed on me by the courts. I cannot imagine myself accepting life on the terms of lenghty probation and/or electronic monitoring. I will not accept further imprisonment. I don't want to continue to live as I am, simply out of fear of dying and inability to overcome a well developed survival instinct. This may be survival, but it is not life....
Tom
Dang!
I have been formulating for a few days what I want to say publicly to Tom.....and Sue beat me! But that is just fine. She is much more articulate than I could ever begin to imagine.
My Bestest Man,
I have waited for you all of my life. Just when I came to the realization that there was never going to be a "love" in my life, when I finally decided to become Mom's roomie, when I finally decided to be an "crazy old maid with cats", you popped into my life.
Our friend, Whims, told me this very interesting man was moving to Cincinnati from Toledo, was going thru' a divorce and job change and could probably use a friend. I was in Dayton and said I would email him....never did. Whims and I talked several times after the initial conversation and she asked if I had contacted Tom...."Nope", was my answer. She said stop talking to her and just send a damned email to him! Well, she is a pretty forceful Domme, so I gave in..... "Hi!, I am a friend of Whims who said you were moving to my part of the state. If you would like to get together for dinner, or a movie or whatever, just email me back and we can get together." Nothing fancy, I didn't type the email in the buff or flog myself while typing. And his response was almost immediate. We met in Middletown (half way between Cincy and Dayton) for dinner at Olive Garden. Hadn't a clue what to expect, but I never expected such an articulate, handsome, caring man. We met at 6pm and closed the restaurant. We talked about everything under the sun and found that we have almost always lived close to each other most of our lives. We did the dinner thing a few times. I went to his new apartment for dinner a few times. I was scheduled for a hernia repair and he had a big meeting he needed to be at. Mom took me to the outpatient surgical center and this handsome man approached her, introduced himself as Tom and my Mom fell in love with him, too. He felt I was more important than his meeting, so he dropped everything and came to me. Once I was able to travel, he came and got me and took care of me at his place for a week.
Finally I moved to Cincy. Transferred my job, hauled belongings and cat to Tom. Those were the days the cats got along. And things were fantastic.
Tom and I have never had an argument. We discuss things. He has taught me so much about so many things. He is patient, he is kind, he is generous, he is the kind of man who everyone should hope their sons grow up to be.
He saved my live in 2000. I had diverticulitis that ruptured with the peritoneal crap being MRSA. MRSA is more known these days, but back then we hadn't a clue that I had a 10% chance of living. I was in intensive care for 8 days and a private room for almost 2 weeks. I went home with an open wound that required 2 sterile dressing changes daily and had IV Vancomiocin twice a day. The hospital taught Tom how to care for me, and he did everything. He helped with the temporary colostomy, he fed me, he laid with me when I was so depressed I could not get out of bed. And he just kept on loving me.
While I was so sick, Tom met Sue and "He-who-shall-remain-nameless" and began chatting. New friends are always welcome and Sue was an amazing, long distance support for Tom. For that I will always be eternally thankful. They grew closer as I healed. We all finally met, and just hugging Sue was as if I found the better half of myself. Bright, articulate, shy, supportive, what wasn't there to love? Once Sue and Tom fell in love, they were as patient as possible with me. I already loved Sue, but was not sure if I was strong enough to share. Now I know that having Sue gives me to ability to love MORE, not less.
We have had some rough patches, but none rougher than these past few weeks. We have pushed, yelled, cried, hugged, loved, and been as supportive as possible for each other. We all want this relationship to continue. We all know it will be different than before, but my deepest hope is that we will be like a Phoenix, rising stronger from the ashes of a terrible past.
Tom, I have loved you forever. Even when I didn't know you, I have loved you. I am so sorry for all of my part of this mess. If I could do anything differently, I would change the world for you. I want us all safe, happy, well. I want us to love each other and remember that we are in this together.
And those of you out in the blogisphere, the support you have shown for ALL THREE OF US, has been received, noted, and accepted with great pleasure. And those of you who feel that sides should be drawn and that blame should be laid, I hope you never have to experience something so devastating because you will not have the fortitude to work for the most valuable thing in the world.....love. We are all 3 in this together. We all know, in hindsight, that other options should have been made.
I love you, my handsome man. I am here forever. I will be your shoulder when you need it. I will leave you alone when you just need to be alone. But I am one of your strongest supporters. Sue being the other. It is hard to see the future on the other side of this mess. But I hope with my entire being that that future will continue to hold the 3 of us, together, stronger than ever before.
Mores & Mores,
T
My Bestest Man,
I have waited for you all of my life. Just when I came to the realization that there was never going to be a "love" in my life, when I finally decided to become Mom's roomie, when I finally decided to be an "crazy old maid with cats", you popped into my life.
Our friend, Whims, told me this very interesting man was moving to Cincinnati from Toledo, was going thru' a divorce and job change and could probably use a friend. I was in Dayton and said I would email him....never did. Whims and I talked several times after the initial conversation and she asked if I had contacted Tom...."Nope", was my answer. She said stop talking to her and just send a damned email to him! Well, she is a pretty forceful Domme, so I gave in..... "Hi!, I am a friend of Whims who said you were moving to my part of the state. If you would like to get together for dinner, or a movie or whatever, just email me back and we can get together." Nothing fancy, I didn't type the email in the buff or flog myself while typing. And his response was almost immediate. We met in Middletown (half way between Cincy and Dayton) for dinner at Olive Garden. Hadn't a clue what to expect, but I never expected such an articulate, handsome, caring man. We met at 6pm and closed the restaurant. We talked about everything under the sun and found that we have almost always lived close to each other most of our lives. We did the dinner thing a few times. I went to his new apartment for dinner a few times. I was scheduled for a hernia repair and he had a big meeting he needed to be at. Mom took me to the outpatient surgical center and this handsome man approached her, introduced himself as Tom and my Mom fell in love with him, too. He felt I was more important than his meeting, so he dropped everything and came to me. Once I was able to travel, he came and got me and took care of me at his place for a week.
Finally I moved to Cincy. Transferred my job, hauled belongings and cat to Tom. Those were the days the cats got along. And things were fantastic.
Tom and I have never had an argument. We discuss things. He has taught me so much about so many things. He is patient, he is kind, he is generous, he is the kind of man who everyone should hope their sons grow up to be.
He saved my live in 2000. I had diverticulitis that ruptured with the peritoneal crap being MRSA. MRSA is more known these days, but back then we hadn't a clue that I had a 10% chance of living. I was in intensive care for 8 days and a private room for almost 2 weeks. I went home with an open wound that required 2 sterile dressing changes daily and had IV Vancomiocin twice a day. The hospital taught Tom how to care for me, and he did everything. He helped with the temporary colostomy, he fed me, he laid with me when I was so depressed I could not get out of bed. And he just kept on loving me.
While I was so sick, Tom met Sue and "He-who-shall-remain-nameless" and began chatting. New friends are always welcome and Sue was an amazing, long distance support for Tom. For that I will always be eternally thankful. They grew closer as I healed. We all finally met, and just hugging Sue was as if I found the better half of myself. Bright, articulate, shy, supportive, what wasn't there to love? Once Sue and Tom fell in love, they were as patient as possible with me. I already loved Sue, but was not sure if I was strong enough to share. Now I know that having Sue gives me to ability to love MORE, not less.
We have had some rough patches, but none rougher than these past few weeks. We have pushed, yelled, cried, hugged, loved, and been as supportive as possible for each other. We all want this relationship to continue. We all know it will be different than before, but my deepest hope is that we will be like a Phoenix, rising stronger from the ashes of a terrible past.
Tom, I have loved you forever. Even when I didn't know you, I have loved you. I am so sorry for all of my part of this mess. If I could do anything differently, I would change the world for you. I want us all safe, happy, well. I want us to love each other and remember that we are in this together.
And those of you out in the blogisphere, the support you have shown for ALL THREE OF US, has been received, noted, and accepted with great pleasure. And those of you who feel that sides should be drawn and that blame should be laid, I hope you never have to experience something so devastating because you will not have the fortitude to work for the most valuable thing in the world.....love. We are all 3 in this together. We all know, in hindsight, that other options should have been made.
I love you, my handsome man. I am here forever. I will be your shoulder when you need it. I will leave you alone when you just need to be alone. But I am one of your strongest supporters. Sue being the other. It is hard to see the future on the other side of this mess. But I hope with my entire being that that future will continue to hold the 3 of us, together, stronger than ever before.
Mores & Mores,
T
12/06/2010
A Love Letter
I realize that, in all the years we've lived and loved, I've never stopped to really tell you how very much I love you. Now, I am faced with the very real possibility that the great love of my life is forever out of my reach. I really hope that isn't true, and I imagine these words are too little and too late, but I want to tell you how I feel about you.
I love you. I doubt that I can say it any better than that. Love like you and I have shared is not subject to reason or logic. It simply is. I have believed that we were destined to find each other, to live this life we've lived together -- meant to be who we have been with and for each other. I still believe that. I will always believe it. Always.
I remember when I first came to be aware of you, just an interesting online personality on that long ago list serve. Even then I was caught by your confidence, your sure-footed sense of who you were. Though part of me bristled at your assumption of your own rightness, I felt drawn in by something so powerful it reached out to me through the naked words that marched across my computer screen -- words that were my first sense of you.
In my memory, our first interactions were more like sparring matches than conversations. I was so prickly and wary, but you were patient and pleasant and likeable -- helping me to find my way into what, for me, was a new and strange world. We talked, just a little at first, and then more and more -- and it wasn't long until I lost my heart.
I'll never, ever forget driving across the country, 1200 miles, to meet you that very first time. Crazy. Everything I'd ever known and everything I'd ever believed told me that it was lunacy to go so far to meet some total stranger for such a completely unheard of interaction. That was a trip that lives in my memory, charged with excitement and anxiety and anticipation and such total cognitive dissonance that it still feels almost vibrational even all these years later.
There was that breathless, forever space of time when we came to know one another through chat and email and phone calls -- those months when our love grew and blossomed and remained a secret even from the two of us. That night when you looked at me across the length of the sofa, and told me that you loved me still shines and twinkles in my heart with all the same magic that it had in the first instant. Words that I thought I'd never hear you say, crackled in the air between us and changed my life forever. I was so happy in that moment, and everything that has been for us since is precious to me. I will never, ever regret a single moment that we've shared -- and I will treasure every single moment that we may still have together.
For so many years now, we've laughed and cried and walked and played and yes -- we've battled by times. We've been the biggest, wildest, craziest, most improbable love match in history during all the good times and all the bad times. We've outlasted and bested the most impossible circumstances and come out stronger and better and more in love -- that is who we are; who we've been. I can't imagine my life without you, and I will hope for us, and fight for us, and believe in us as long as I have breath.
You have always insisted that, in the moment when you cut your initials into my flesh, you released marks that existed from the beginning of time, on my soul -- that you and I were partners from long before the moment we met. I have believed that was the truth, and I have worn that truth on my shoulder with great pride and great joy. It remains for me, the simple and pure truth. I believe that we will always and forever come back around to one another -- in every lifetime through all time.
I've admired your strength, your indomitable will, your tenacity, your ability to see your way through to answers when others saw only insurmountable obstacles. I have believed that there was nothing that you would not face down and overcome. I've lived, through some of my own darkest times buoyed by your optimism and energy. I've never seen you give up. I don't think that there is a single ounce of "give up" in you. I just believe in you.
I feel like I've made a terrible, hackneyed mess of this. It is a pitiful shadow of what I wish I could say to you. There are just no words to make it clear how much it means to me that you have loved me, and I will never, ever be able to adequately express to you how honored and thrilled I have been to be allowed to love you.
Yours always and all ways...
swan
Try Not to Cause More Hurt, Please
Our family has been through the wringer in the last weeks.
Reading here may have given outsiders a glimpse into the turmoil and devastation that has befallen us, but let me assure you that what you can see is the tip of a very large iceberg -- there is so much more that we have not shared, and I hope will not share.
We are deeply immersed in chaos and trauma. There is pain and anger and bewilderment -- for us all. And the truth is that we are in conflict, with one another. Things are not easy or settled or comfortable or happy in our world.
Those of you who read here are faced with choices when trying to decide how, or if, to respond to what we've shared here. I understand that it has been terribly difficult to read the tale of these last days, and I understand that there is some "natural" impulse to make judgements and choose sides.
Please do not do that.
We are at the very beginning of a very long, and probably very difficult road that may, someday, bring us to some kind of healing and peace with one another. Before we can get to that distant future, we have a lot of work to do...
--We have to define all the components, and variables, and differing perceptions of our conflict with one another.
Even as we passed through the events of the last two months, we each formed our own reality -- and our realities do not match. We disagree with one another about some very basic elements of the stories we are telling. As long as our stories don't match; as long as we are at odds with one another at this most basic level, we are each left feeling unheard and misunderstood and devalued. That hurts. We are working at it, but we are not there. Not yet.
--We have to acknowledge all the feelings we are each experiencing, and the scariest of those is hatred. At some very real level, we have hatred for one another -- coexisting with the love we've nurtured for so long.
Hatred hurts. Emotionally and physically. We are all tangled up in that and it is eating away at the very foundations of our lives together. We know it and it scares us, and we can't seem to entirely let it go. Yet. I believe that we'll outlive the current feelings of rage and hatred and betrayal. But that is going to take some time.
--We have to forgive one another, and then forgive again, and then again. And we need to be willing for that forgiving to not change anything much in the short run.
We are, each of us, "up against" our own human sense of hurt and betrayal, and while we want to not cause further hurt, we are in enough pain that it is very hard not to lash out; not to pour out anger and frustration onto one another. Except for this blog, we really have no other, "safe" outlets for all of these feelings. We are pretty much "all in all" for one another. Right now, in the midst of this mess, being "all in all" makes us simultaneously supporters and enemies. Maybe, in time, the repeated act of forgiving will bring us some peace. In time.
--We each need to apologize -- for our part in all of the awfulness that has happened; for choices made and actions taken; for the consequences, however unintended of our actions; for inflicting pain piled on top of pain; for blaming; for not hearing; for discounting and demeaning where we should have loved.
To apologize is seemingly simple, but for us it is complicated. We each need to apologize, and we eachneed to hear the apology -- and we need, more than that, to repair the damage done. An apology is a start, but not the end of it. Not by a very long way. It is hard to offer the apology, and know that it is such a small bit of the work that needs to be done to make this all right.
--We're struggling to learn to empathize with one another. Clearly, healing isn't going to begin until we can feel that we've been listened to and heard. We need to validate the honest feelings that we are each experiencing. That is damnably hard when each emotion in the other brings up strong emotions in us.
We are trying to listen. Carefully. Trying to really hear the words, but the deeper emotions too. And we are feeling our way along. It is scary and it feels really bad. Some of what we have to say to each other; some of what we have to hear from each other feels mean and nasty. Knowing that the person you love thinks badly of you, discounts your opinions, and suspects your motives is just awful. And that is exactly where we are -- trying to listen with hearts and minds.
--We are beginning to know that we are probably going to have to let go of some things that feel like "must haves" and "won't do's" and "I just never could's."
What is becoming clear is that, much as we love one another, we don't see eye to eye on some things -- and that may never change. We are going to have to find a way to accommodate that as we move forward. If we can.
--In the end, the question remains whether our love for one another is strong enough. Because, when this part of our lives recedes from view, it might be that we will still love enough to live on and find something good.
... And that is why I am, tonight asking readers here to stop judging; stop assigning blame; stop thinking in terms of good and bad, or right and wrong. Do not assume that there are "innocent" victims here. There is not a single one of us who is innocent. Do not assume that there is a need to assign blame. There is plenty of blame to go around. Do not assume that some of us need your support while others deserve your scorn and censure. Please... be careful, and if you can, be tender with us all.
Tom is hurt.
T is hurt.
I am hurt.
We are trying to survive and we hope to someday heal.
If you can offer words of encouragement and friendship, that may help.
If not, please -- try not to cause more hurt.
Thank you.
Sue
Reading here may have given outsiders a glimpse into the turmoil and devastation that has befallen us, but let me assure you that what you can see is the tip of a very large iceberg -- there is so much more that we have not shared, and I hope will not share.
We are deeply immersed in chaos and trauma. There is pain and anger and bewilderment -- for us all. And the truth is that we are in conflict, with one another. Things are not easy or settled or comfortable or happy in our world.
Those of you who read here are faced with choices when trying to decide how, or if, to respond to what we've shared here. I understand that it has been terribly difficult to read the tale of these last days, and I understand that there is some "natural" impulse to make judgements and choose sides.
Please do not do that.
We are at the very beginning of a very long, and probably very difficult road that may, someday, bring us to some kind of healing and peace with one another. Before we can get to that distant future, we have a lot of work to do...
--We have to define all the components, and variables, and differing perceptions of our conflict with one another.
Even as we passed through the events of the last two months, we each formed our own reality -- and our realities do not match. We disagree with one another about some very basic elements of the stories we are telling. As long as our stories don't match; as long as we are at odds with one another at this most basic level, we are each left feeling unheard and misunderstood and devalued. That hurts. We are working at it, but we are not there. Not yet.
Hatred hurts. Emotionally and physically. We are all tangled up in that and it is eating away at the very foundations of our lives together. We know it and it scares us, and we can't seem to entirely let it go. Yet. I believe that we'll outlive the current feelings of rage and hatred and betrayal. But that is going to take some time.
--We have to forgive one another, and then forgive again, and then again. And we need to be willing for that forgiving to not change anything much in the short run.
We are, each of us, "up against" our own human sense of hurt and betrayal, and while we want to not cause further hurt, we are in enough pain that it is very hard not to lash out; not to pour out anger and frustration onto one another. Except for this blog, we really have no other, "safe" outlets for all of these feelings. We are pretty much "all in all" for one another. Right now, in the midst of this mess, being "all in all" makes us simultaneously supporters and enemies. Maybe, in time, the repeated act of forgiving will bring us some peace. In time.
--We each need to apologize -- for our part in all of the awfulness that has happened; for choices made and actions taken; for the consequences, however unintended of our actions; for inflicting pain piled on top of pain; for blaming; for not hearing; for discounting and demeaning where we should have loved.
To apologize is seemingly simple, but for us it is complicated. We each need to apologize, and we eachneed to hear the apology -- and we need, more than that, to repair the damage done. An apology is a start, but not the end of it. Not by a very long way. It is hard to offer the apology, and know that it is such a small bit of the work that needs to be done to make this all right.
--We're struggling to learn to empathize with one another. Clearly, healing isn't going to begin until we can feel that we've been listened to and heard. We need to validate the honest feelings that we are each experiencing. That is damnably hard when each emotion in the other brings up strong emotions in us.
We are trying to listen. Carefully. Trying to really hear the words, but the deeper emotions too. And we are feeling our way along. It is scary and it feels really bad. Some of what we have to say to each other; some of what we have to hear from each other feels mean and nasty. Knowing that the person you love thinks badly of you, discounts your opinions, and suspects your motives is just awful. And that is exactly where we are -- trying to listen with hearts and minds.
What is becoming clear is that, much as we love one another, we don't see eye to eye on some things -- and that may never change. We are going to have to find a way to accommodate that as we move forward. If we can.
... And that is why I am, tonight asking readers here to stop judging; stop assigning blame; stop thinking in terms of good and bad, or right and wrong. Do not assume that there are "innocent" victims here. There is not a single one of us who is innocent. Do not assume that there is a need to assign blame. There is plenty of blame to go around. Do not assume that some of us need your support while others deserve your scorn and censure. Please... be careful, and if you can, be tender with us all.
Tom is hurt.
T is hurt.
I am hurt.
We are trying to survive and we hope to someday heal.
If you can offer words of encouragement and friendship, that may help.
If not, please -- try not to cause more hurt.
Thank you.
Sue
12/05/2010
If We Share the Same Loss, Why Don't We Share the Same Grief?
Years and years ago, I taught prepared childbirth classes in the wilds of Wyoming. Generally, that was joyful work, and I was privledged to share with many couples at the moment of their child's birth. Sadly, there were occasions when things did not go as expected, and joy would turn to grief as an infant would die. Learning to sit with grieving parents, I learned a bit about the vagaries of trying to navigate the grieving process inside of families. One thing that I came to understand is that sharing the same loss does not mean that we share the same grief. It is particularly difficult, in the face of overwhelming personal grief, to support others in their own grieving. It is not at all uncommon for families to fall apart in the passage.
I don't intend here to imply that what our family is experiencing is at all the equivalent of losing a child, but we are surely grieving. The events of the last few weeks have left us all devastated, hurt, angry, fearful -- and grief stricken. We each get swept up in a series of events that happened in the same space and timeframe, but for each one of us the impacts of those events feel different -- and that difference has driven us apart form one another. For the three of us, wrapped up in one another for all these years, the sense of being pulled apart from one another -- of sometimes pushing one another away, is a devastation added to all the other pain we've experienced. I feel completely bewildered, and I imagine I am not alone in that. One particularly good description of the challenges of shared grieving in families is here. Kathleen Gilbert's paper describes, in detail, how members of the same family, experiencing the same loss, may find themselves entirely alone in their grieving. According to Gilbert,only an individual can have a belief or value or world view or an understanding of something. She writes:
We are holding on, as best we can, to what is left of our family and our love. We each want to find a way through this awfulness. These last weeks have been a lot like three drowning people in deep water, clawing away at one another just trying to get above the water and breathe for a minute. I think we are coming to understand, just a little bit, that while we have all had a part of the experience of these last weeks, our experiences are different and our grief is parallel but not exactly shared or, in any workable sense, "the same." We are learning, slowly, to be a bit gentle with one another, and to at least try and believe that the other parts of the family are doing the best they can.
Sue
I don't intend here to imply that what our family is experiencing is at all the equivalent of losing a child, but we are surely grieving. The events of the last few weeks have left us all devastated, hurt, angry, fearful -- and grief stricken. We each get swept up in a series of events that happened in the same space and timeframe, but for each one of us the impacts of those events feel different -- and that difference has driven us apart form one another. For the three of us, wrapped up in one another for all these years, the sense of being pulled apart from one another -- of sometimes pushing one another away, is a devastation added to all the other pain we've experienced. I feel completely bewildered, and I imagine I am not alone in that. One particularly good description of the challenges of shared grieving in families is here. Kathleen Gilbert's paper describes, in detail, how members of the same family, experiencing the same loss, may find themselves entirely alone in their grieving. According to Gilbert,only an individual can have a belief or value or world view or an understanding of something. She writes:
"Families do not grieve. Only individuals grieve and they do so in severalcontexts, one of which is the family. In the process of grieving in thefamily context, each family member makes certain assumptions about others... one of which may be that ... their grief should be the same.Alternatively, some may also assume a shared view that their loss is moresignificant than that of others, that they have suffered more ..."
We are holding on, as best we can, to what is left of our family and our love. We each want to find a way through this awfulness. These last weeks have been a lot like three drowning people in deep water, clawing away at one another just trying to get above the water and breathe for a minute. I think we are coming to understand, just a little bit, that while we have all had a part of the experience of these last weeks, our experiences are different and our grief is parallel but not exactly shared or, in any workable sense, "the same." We are learning, slowly, to be a bit gentle with one another, and to at least try and believe that the other parts of the family are doing the best they can.
Sue
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