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suicide

August 17, 2006

I am still not feeling quite right about life right now. The heartache is pretty much gone, having been put into perspective. However, the idea that as I slept some random person put a bullet through his head within 100 yards of me is reopening old wounds in a very painful and disturbing way. I couldn't go on my walk last night for fear that maybe they didn't manage to clean everything up. I can just imagine my dog sniffing out an entrail or something. Some relic of a life not worth living.

We are coming up on the anniversary of Aaron Hawkin's death, and between that and the events of yesterday, as well as other people in my life who have been questioning whether it is worth it to go on...I am feeling the burn. I know I am not responsible or even capable of keeping people alive or in love with life, but it feels like I am surrounded by death. I am craving something easy and mindless and joyous. I am needing celebration. Perhaps it is summer, pressing inward with its stifling heat. They say that winter is the season of death, but in Austin it is summer. I feel stifled. Full to bursting. I want to unleash. I want to let go. I want to be everything all at once with someone who can give me everything all at once back. I am tired of thinking about death. I am tired of worrying about people. Mostly, I am just plain tired of being a counterweight. I want to tip the fucking scales! I want to move mountains! I want to be mighty and alive! Alive! Alive!

So, yeah. That's where I am right now. Trapped underneath the ghostly shells of blown-apart bodies and trying desperately to claw my way out.

Posted at 9:12 AM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

Chaotic Collective Cacophony

April 9, 2006

Anyone who reads this blog with extreme regularity might have heard me mention a song called "Hope" by the Dirty Three. I mention it a lot, and I play it even more than I mention it. I've never quoted the lyrics, because it has none. The song consists of sparse drums and guitar, and rich strings, and one lone caterwauling stringed instrument that sounds like it's being bowed by a metal ruler.

In all of this talk lately about harmony, and different voices/many voices, which was the sermon today at the UU church, this song comes to mind. I think I finally understand why I love it so much, and, too, why I have been a fan of caterwauling, disharmonious music throughout my life.

That reason is...Fuck Harmony. Like the screeching strings in Hope and Nick Cave's plaintive wails in any Birthday Party song, my affinity lies in those who refuse to harmonize with everyone else. Why would I insist on harmony from others when I so rarely can muster the wherewithal to live in sync with myself? There are times when I, too, rise like the squeal of the misbowed violin, only to fall like the calm and gentle guitar. What's so great about "Hope" is that it's always sandwiched between these incredibly anchored atmospheric pieces that breathe music in and out like the winds that breathe in and out the tide...or more profoundly, like the gravity that perpetuates it.

Instead of longing for an unachievable state of harmony, why not embrace the din? The din of other voices, and that of my own voice, telling me fifty different ways to do the right thing at any moment. My thoughts like a zoetrope, spinning in seeming disconnection and only when it gets spinning fast enough does the picture become whole and unified...and yet there is beauty in those fragmented, still images. There is a strange sort of harmony in that disconnection, like guitars and violins - making combinations of things previously discombobulated. This puzzle I am trying to put together, and all my missing pieces - this puzzle we all are trying to put together, and all our missing pieces. We fill them in with light, air, waves, mist, rocks. We yell in different keys, we sing softly out of tune, we drift, and we return...and in the midst of all of the chaotic collective cacophony, we may find bits of melody to string into a song, or we may seek comfort in the tangible disarray around us which reflects that within, or we may sit in silence, humming with life.

Posted at 1:33 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

There is no reason for you to hide.

April 8, 2006

The Dirty Three were again my walking companions last night as, after a day of deep thought and an evening of solitude in public spaces, I set about trying to process all of the thoughts that kept popping up throughout it all.

Seeing that myspace page of an ex-boyfriend and that quote by Tish about how we are all just doing the best we can and all of the other external but equally juxtapositional ideas and input I had been receiving all day was making me wonder about where I am, where I want to be, and, I guess, ultimately what is safe for me in terms of rectifying some of the current disharmony in my life.

What got to me about the ex's interpretation of our relationship was not that he felt angry and depressed about the relationship as it was happening. It was a pretty depressing relationship! But that in the ensuing years...all 15 or so of them...he did not once stop to think that perhaps there was something external to him that was driving that depression. And what's ultimately important about that is how it corresponds with the way *I* am living my life now that might be equally blindered and unforgiving of those who have injured me in the past - those who I perhaps feel a legitimate resentment or anger for...and whether or not I need to let go of those feelings.

And that's where we come up against the issue of safety. Because I can honestly analyze my relationship with that particular ex, and I see no reason why it would have been unsafe for him to approach me and attempt to deconstruct that relationship at any time. I had no power over him. I might have been an insane, workaholic, jealous, dissatisfied person, but I wasn't abusive. He was free to leave at any time - we had no ties to bind us together, and in deconstructing things - we have no current ties.

But, really, this has nothing to do whatsoever with that relationship. That person is clearly not interested in approaching the past with an attitude of forgiveness in the interest of self-improvement. In the present, however, I have at least one relationship that hangs in this strange limbo of discommunication. It's an important relationship. Perhaps the most important relationship in my life thus far. And in thinking about grudges and resentment and the power of forgiveness and the concept of "doing the best we can" I couldn't help but think about that relationship. Is it safe for me to untie that box again? What kinds of things might pop out of I do so? And what will remain contained?

I think the thing is that in order to mend those rifts, there needs to be absolute honesty. And how is honesty achieved when there is so much pain and suspicion? Am I capable of it? Is the other person? And, if so, am I capable of trusting the other person to BE honest...or will I just assume it is more of the same power/abuse dynamic that has ruled our relationship for many, many years now - even in silence.

This would be easy to drop if it weren't for other people who are waiting for this to be resolved. People for whom resolution would mean a lot more harmony and happiness in their lives. People for whom I want to set an example of forgiveness and love, but also for whom I do not want to set an example of two people yet again mistreating each other. And it's again...I run up against the issue of safety for myself, as well as for these other people.

So, I'm still thinking about it all. It's like my brain and soul are trying desperately to find the puzzle pieces that will make the picture clearer, and I'm having no success, so I'm staring hard at the picture, missing pieces and all, and trying to figure out what it all means. I don't have the answer. I don't have any of the answers. And yet, somehow...I know I have all of the answers.

Down By The River
Neil Young (as interpreted by the Dirty Three, accompanied by Low - it's an amazing fucking song)

Be on my side,
I'll be on your side,
baby
There is no reason
for you to hide
It's so hard for me
staying here all alone
When you could be
taking me for a ride.

Yeah, she could drag me
over the rainbow,
send me away
Down by the river
I shot my baby
Down by the river,
Dead, oh, shot her dead.

You take my hand,
I'll take your hand
Together we may get away
This much madness
is too much sorrow
It's impossible
to make it today.

Yeah, she could drag me
over the rainbow,
send me away
Down by the river
I shot my baby
Down by the river,
Dead, oh, shot her dead.

Be on my side,
I'll be on your side,
baby
There is no reason
for you to hide
It's so hard for me
staying here all alone
When you could be
taking me for a ride.

Yeah, she could drag me
over the rainbow,
send me away
Down by the river
I shot my baby
Down by the river,
Dead, oh, shot her dead.

Posted at 9:51 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

The origins of things

March 30, 2006

I suddenly find myself nursing the most healthy addiction of all.

Hello, my name is Lainie, and I am addicted to interaction.

Last night, yet again, I walked into my living room, set to give the dog her long-overdue walk. And there was Rachel. Rachel, the wonderful distraction. Rachel, with whom I have spent the past month engaged in some of the most wonderful, revealing, heart-wrending, open, honest discussions. I feel replenished. And I'm sad that she is leaving in a few short days.

So, we talked. Fuck the walk. The dog lay on the couch and sighed and sighed. I felt bad, but, like I said, I'm addicted to interaction.

Also, I have initiated a couple of nice little email exchanges that are very gratifying to me. Email is another vice of mine - only sometimes I feel like I am foisting my emails on people because, well, I *do* go on and on, if encouraged...and sometimes even if not encouraged. I seem to have made at least one friend who loves to send and receive emails, and I am enjoying it a great deal. Silly, sweet, stupid, charming little exchanges several times a day. Yes. Oh yes. It's like a writer's wet dream! Here, you can have this! I wasn't using it anyway! And you are giving me something in return? How nice!

So, anyway, the origins of things. Last night, the conversation with Rachel twisted and turned and convoluted itself right back to the origins of this...thing...I have where I am constantly drawing a certain personality type into my life. Yes. I am familiar - Quite familiar - with my relationship patterns and where they originate. I am also pleased to note that I am recognizing myself in those patterns as I fall into the groove. Soon enough to stay detached from the outcome, and yet, somehow I've managed to not become jaded by my own idiocy.

It's nice. I feel whole. And I feel like I have something genuine to offer to a conversation, rather than glib speculation or advice I read in a book. I also feel fully present, and fully accepting of what is being offered to me in the moment. Knowing how my interactions with my family have effected me in the present, I also feel like I can participate in at least recognizing and acknowledging how those same patterns play out with my children.

Yesterday, I heard Monk talking to Coley in a harsh tone. I walked out, and they were both in tears. Coley had stepped on Monk's hand, and Monk was lecturing Coley about how he NEVER is careful. There was anger and hurt in their tone with each other. Practicing my newfound art of emotion coach, I told Monk that I was sorry that he was hurt, but that I wanted to see him talking to Coley about his feelings in the present, rather than using the words never or always with regard to Coley's behavior (of course, Monk...with a sly smile...tried to say "not ever" instead, but he quickly got that it was the same thing.) And then I asked him "I know you were hurt by Coley, but does it make you feel better to make Coley feel hurt, also?" I was pleased that his answer was no. But he had already carried his lecture to the point where Coley was feeling a bit enraged, so there was a moment where Coley had to compose himself. "Mom," said Monk..".I KNOW that look on his face! He's GOING to hit me!" Monk locked himself in the bathroom while Coley released some anger by yelling, not hitting. And I held Coley for awhile and it only took a moment - long enough for me to say "I know you will feel bad about yourself it you hit someone." and the rage turned to regret and sadness, and Coley was ready to make amends with Monk.

I don't know if I'm conveying it clearly here, because I'm running late for my thingy today, but it was actually a really monumental moment. The boys were both very clear about their feelings, and they both responded so well to being reasoned with, empathized with, and yet still held to a standard of expression that is acceptable. I was so proud of them, and of me.

So, all of this examining. All of this talking, and hashing out. All of my fucking up and trying again and fucking up again and trying again again...it's all got a point. The origins might be disordered and painful, but where it's leading is ordered, free, and totally healthy.

"While looking for the light, you may suddenly be devoured by darkness and find the True Light." - Jack Kerouac

Posted at 6:00 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Healing.

February 27, 2006

I should say that I spent most of Saturday morning in bed crying my eyes out quietly. I say this as my roommates move out. It's releasing a flood of emotion. Not due to anything having really anything to do with them, but having to do with all that I've been holding in as a result of having people sharing this house with me. In a way, it's good - because I do love the Allison family enough to feel OK with having been somewhat of a scared bunny rabbit while they were here. I feel like we can easily enough mend whatever that resulted in. I already am feeling more open to all of them now that they are going. The trick is to maintain that openness and to not fall back again when someone else moves in.

So, anyway, crying my eyes out. What I was doing was remembering a lot of pain. I was fully realizing how much denial I was in during the 3 years I lived here with a silently abusive partner. I was remembering what it caused in my spirit. I remember resigning myself to that. I remember feeling like it didn't really effect me - like I was bullet-proof - as long as I acknowledged that it was reality. Like "as long as I'm aware that this is a fucked up situation, I won't get fucked up by it." Which is sort of like standing on a railroad track, saying "As long as I'm aware that train is coming down the track at me, I won't get fucking smeared by it!" It sounds silly now, but I did it.

I can't explain to anyone what it was like to live in this house for those three years. What I can say is that I understand and accept now what it did to my heart. Around the middle of that time, I decided that love didn't exist. that I could just stay in that situation because all love is painful, so why should I leave behind the familiar pain of the love I had learned to cope with for the minute possibility that I might find love that was slightly less painful?

And, the truth of the matter is that all love IS painful. But not always. It requires a lot, but it gives back whatever you put in. Perhaps not in the same currency, but at least the same value. I'm just now finding my way back to a place where I can extend my love without fear, and it's scary as shit. I'm not just talking about romantic love, I am talking about any kind of relationship that requires/inspires any amount of depth or intimacy. I don't have a roadmap to guide me on my particular journey. I just have to make it up as I go along, and be honest, and insist on integrity and freedom.

I'm not perfect, but I'm trying. I'm putting myself forward. That's the only way out of this place.

Posted at 11:51 AM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

Sound system gonna bring me back up...

February 27, 2006

So, I guess I've broken though. There's nothing like anarchism love is free. There's nothing like having/taking time to sit with people and express honestly how you feel about you, them, the universe, and everything - and feel totally heard and totally not reacted to and totally responded to - even if it's painful to some degree. There's nothing like feeling like real love is more than physical bodies colliding. Like there is no such thing as unrequited provided there is honesty and emotion. There is nothing like that. Nothing. I can't feel bad about anything because I have everything I need. And you don't need to feel bad, either...because I can give you everything you want without feeling...unrequited.

and you, too. And you. Thank you.

The trick is to take this practice, and expand it to everyone. Take it beyond the two or three people I feel safe with, and allow myself to really fully love everyone. It is my form of activism. It's also the only way I know how to really live.

Operation Ivy - Sound System

(Chorus)
Sound System gonna bring me back up
One thing that I can depend on.
Try to describe it as a limit of my ability;
It's there for a second
Then it's given up what it used to be.
Contained in music somehow more than just sound,
This inspiration coming and twisting things around
Because you always know that it's gonna have to go.
You always know that you'll be back in the cold.
Point of departure sublimated in a song
It's always coming to give me that hope
for just a second then it's gone but!
(Chorus)
Static pulse inside of music bringing us escape.
It's always temporary, changing nothing in it's wake...
Just a second where we're leaving all this shit behind.
Just a second but it's leaving just this much in mind:
To resist despair, the second makes you see...
To resist despair, because you can't change everything...
To resist despair, in this world is what it is to be free.
(Chorus)
Wake up turn my box on,
Bust the shade, let the sun in.
Times getting tougher 'bout time to start runnin'
Box in my hand music by my side,
Skankin' to the rhythm of the music by my side.

Posted at 11:22 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Growth, Giving Up, and more Growth

February 21, 2006

The great social experiment (which, for those who haven't been following along, is my current living situation in which I am sharing my home with another family of four) is drawing to a close. We went into the situation with the assumption that it would be temporary, so it's not like any of us are ending something that was meant to continue forever, but I do have some thoughts about time limits and limiting times. Some of these thoughts pertain to this living situation, and some do not. So, as a general disclaimer - I should say that none of this has anything to do with any shortcomings of my friends and housemates here. They have been great to share space with. They have helped me so much in so many things. They have also challenged me to grow in really important ways. I have viewed just about every single interaction with them, even the more painful ones, in a very positive way, and I am thankful for having had the opportunity to spend this time in this situation with them. I don't think it would have been nearly as successful as it has been with anyone else. I guess that's not a general disclaimer...that's a very specific disclaimer, but it's sincere.

These days, though, I wonder how much we humans limit ourselves, or put time limits on things in order to avoid adapting or growing to allow change to happen. There was a lot of talk last weekend (at the historians against the war convention) about another world being possible. And I get that. I get that our country...our world, really, has been steeped in war and imperialism from the very beginning...and that so few examples exist of cooperative/collectivist societies that it can seem impossible, idealistic, and unachievable. And broken down into sub-sub-sub-sub worlds, right down to our household units, it doesn't seem any more attainable.

Throughout these 3 co-housing months, I have frequently wanted to read a book about what others have done in similar situations to solve the problems that we have encountered...only to find myself frustrated because THERE IS NO MANUAL. Not because living with another family is so revolutionary that no one has ever done it, and perhaps I just didn't look hard enough...but also because 3 months is such a small little period on the timeline. It's really only enough time to dip our feet in collectivism. Honestly, and this is due to my own neuroses as much or more than anything else...3 months was not enough time for me to overcome the shock of sharing. In order for a true collective household to emerge, we would need more time. A lot more time. (Again, I need to disclaim that the purpose of this cohousing situation was not to form a permanent collectivist arrangement, so this is not due to any shortcomings on the part of any of us in the household.)

The funny thing, and I think I've mentioned this before, is that I'm only beginning to grow used to the living situation, and am starting to adapt in a more healthy way. I wonder how much we humans do that - give ourselves too little time to get over the hump of adaptation, and then pull away. This same thing happened when my friend R came to stay for a few months last year. We had just adapted to being crammed in the same house together - we just got the kitchen dance down - when it was time for her to go. Granted, these situations are self-limited and intended to be so, but they make me think about all of the times I have stopped before I even began - how many things I have quit before I really got started.

Is it really that I just fear success? Can that be the trite explanation to this conundrum? I've often THOUGHT that. I mean, I don't necessarily think it's that I fear the hard work, although that might be true in some cases. It seems like certain situations and relationships require hard work just before they get easier...and even when they get easier the hard work might have to continue throughout the duration. Do we naturally choose situations that will enable maximum growth? And is backing away from those situations a sign of weakness...or wisdom? I'm thinking about this in terms of my current living situation as well as some relationships, potential relationships, and unsuccessful relationships I have had/am having...and perhaps will have. Perhaps it's a combination of reasons.

I find myself pulling away from people sometimes. I call it "taking a break." I can deal with the quirks that make them human and wonderful, but after awhile with some people I just need to get some distance. I guess sometimes this is because I'm avoiding my own growth...but sometimes it's just because I need a fucking break from certain frustrating characteristics.

Another World Is Possible rings in my head. I believe that in my heart, but I wonder how that world is to be achieved. We are all so bound up in our societally-imposed ideas of what it means to relate to one another that even earnest attempts at breaking free can end up isolating us further. To the point where even going out to listen to someone give a talk about revolutionary concepts can result in two of the people I care about most in the world criticizing and complaining about the other people in the room. It gets depressing, you know? I start to get sucked in sometimes, and start to think "Yeah...people really ARE irritating, self-righteous, self-aggrandizing assholes!" But where the fuck does that get me - or anyone else? Certainly not any closer to that other world. But what is the solution? How do we learn to live with one another, whether it be sharing a house, sharing a room at a bookstore, sharing a conference, or sharing the fucking planet? My instinct...and probably yours...is that we start small. It's easy to say "change comes from within" - but what does that really mean? For me, it means learning to better accept what I view as shortcomings in other people. I think I'm on the right track when I :

a) search everyone I know or meet randomly or even just see and find something lovable about them. And focus on that lovable quality above all else. People will always find ways to disappoint me...but I can try even harder to find things about them that I deeply love.

b) notice the qualities in the people I care about that maybe aren't so lovable, and learn to appreciate those qualities for what they are - a part of what makes my loved ones who they are - rather than wishing they would change. Wow. Is this ever a challenge. But since I am not capable of forcing people to change, it's really the only way to fully love the people in my life. Unconditionally.

Sounds easy, right? Ha!

ETA:
You know, another important thing for me to remember is that I am not perfect, and I forgive myself and those around me for perceived imperfections. If I do occasionally make fun of people or situations, or generalize, or allow myself to respond to my fear of failure or shortcomings with regard to certain people, events, or environments...I can't give up on myself entirely! Nor can I give up on those I love when they display the same kind of behavior. Sometimes I need to just hang back, detach a bit, search for those qualities that I love within those around me, and move forward again with the knowledge that we all have blind spots as well as beauty. And immerse myself again.

ETA, again:
You know, another thought I'm having is that I frequently encounter a sort of "negativist peer pressure" that comes from people who are close to one another. Where someone finds something negative to complain about, and everyone sort of riffs on that. I admit, I engage in this and even instigate it at times (actually, fairly frequently)...and it's not that people should never ever do this, because it can be damn fun...but I worry about the habit of finding fault in everything. It's really fucking habit-forming. I've had entire relationships with people that have devolved into streams of sarcastic behavior to the point where honest emotion is never expressed or communicated. Again, Smart-assholitude can be the greatest thing on earth, but we need to strike a balance. I think Bill Hicks does that...he's a good person to study. Just when you start to think "Holy fuck! This man is the most depressing, negative naysayer on the planet!" He starts talking about how we are all one and one with the universe - and somehow that makes it ok. So, I mean, I think I need to examine how this dynamic is at play in my relationships...and I need to remember to bust out with the "I love you becauses" as much or more than I bust out with the silly farting around. And not only in my relationships, but in the world at large, and all of the little scenarios I find myself in within that world.

Posted at 9:29 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

What Then?

December 1, 2005

I've been having a lot of conversations lately about spirituality - many of which have been sparked by a dear friend who seeks "enlightenment." I find myself wondering about the concept of enlightenment in practical terms. I guess I'm just a practical person, but I can't get my head around it. Like, "What does it DO?" And whenever my friend says that his one desire is to attain enlightenment, I can't help but think "What then?"

Like, what happens next?

I thought the whole point to enlightenment was the seeking, the path, and the surrender to your own humanity & the idea that you can never actually GET there because, well, you pretty much are already there. But I'm open to hearing more from my friend. He makes me think, and he makes me appreciate the progress I have made in my own spiritual development.

For instance, I'm conscious lately about the significance of surrender in my life. I think it's difficult to really adequately explain surrender without sounding either victim-y or blame-the-victim-y...but there is an extent to which surrender is a form of enlightenment. In my life, the most tangible moment of surrender I can remember was Cole's birth, but there have been other, more subtle/tricky ways that surrender has helped me to center myself and learn to be fully present for the smaller blessings.

I spent a long time this morning talking with Pansy about our experiences raising very strongly emotional boys who tend to appear domineering, and the difficulty in balancing our needs as adult humans with the needs of our more demanding children. We truly need to write a book about this balance. There are so many interesting tangents to veer off on from that starting point. For one thing, raising the children in community, trusting each other's responses even if we don't initially understand them, being in close proximity and learning to adjust...and also forgiving ourselves and each other when we "slip." I'm getting a bit off track, but it occurs to me that raising Coley is another form of surrender. It was easy to be a perfect parent with Monk. It was easy to pat myself on the back for his accomplishments. It was easy to feel superior while toting around this perfectly-behaved little person. So today, when I chanced upon a blog entry from about 2 years ago, during a period where Coley was being particularly difficult to manage and I was doing a lot of yelling and feeling immense amounts of frustration, I was able to step back from myself and think about my interactions with Coley over the past few months and realize how much I have grown. How much calmer I am, and how I am able to maintain equilibrium much better these days...and how very INfrequently I feel I need to raise my voice to be heard.

It's really trite to say that when things are stripped from you and you have to deal with the raw day-to-day-ness of everything within the context of several different less-than-ideal situations at once you learn to appreciate the little things. It's trite because there are always worse things that can happen and it doesn't make you a better or worse person to learn to center yourself and appreciate the One Good Thing that might be a result of the Horrible Bad Things in your life. And it's trite because sometimes everything really is FOR SHIT, and there is no Lesson To Be Learned. However, it IS good to look back and see progress having been made. It's good to sit with that, appreciate my strength, and content myself with the knowing that I can (to quote Jim Thirwell) pretty much do any goddamn thing I want.

So I don't know what to say about attaining enlightenment. I pretty much feel like all of my joy in life comes from the active seeking I need to do to get through each day...and finding ways to bring that joy to other people as often as possible. And fucking up. And trying again. And being human...among other humans. And hanging laundry, doing the dishes, walking the dog...and giving thanks.

Posted at 11:32 AM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

Navel Gazing (or relationships, isolation, community, and sex)

October 8, 2005

I just realized something important about who I am and what I need. Perhaps it's a result of the Kurt Vonnegut interview on Now last night, where he stated point-blank that the purpose of life is "farting around" and that people need to form gangs (because the end of the world (as we know it) is coming, and the nuclear family is a shitty way to prepare for this cataclysm...instead we need extended families either of blood or invention.

Listen, I know that might sound a bit kooky. David Brancaccio (swooooon) had that sort of bored look of condescenscion on his face throughout the interview (which, admittedly, he almost always has. He's such a damn journalist. Sometimes, though, that bored look of condescenscion really works for him...so I'm not going to complain too bitterly about it)...but I think Mr. Vonnegut is correct. And even if he isn't...wouldn't it be fun to be in a gang? Certainly more fun than the isolation of every day life. And by isolation, I don't mean absolutely alone, but ostensibly stranded on the island of family.

It occurred to me this morning that I wasn't always so isolated, and I wondered what it was that changed it. I have lived my entire life as a quiet observer of others, and there were several years there where I was starved for that. When were those years?

Fuck, I think to myself. My abusive relationship with L strikes again - and takes on another angle. It all started with L. And I hate to blame L for all of my problems, but holy fuck, it's true that from the beginning of my relationship with him, my close friends were, one by one, alienated. He would tell me they weren't good enough for me. That I shouldn't be cleaning up after them. That I shouldn't be picking them up when they didn't have rides. To top it off, he picked a fight with one of them that almost came to blows & that was the end of that - I knew where my loyalties lie. Besides, I was pregnant.

OK, so I don't want to go into the boring play-by-play of my life with L. But this explains a lot. It explains a lot of my unnamed frustration and jealousy in my relationship with him. It names a lot of my dissatisfaction. It exacerbated the already acute feelings of isolation I carry with me just by virtue of being me. And, yes, it can be argued that it, at times, turned me into a jealous bitch. By the time we had had Monk, I was the band mom...not in a good way. The other band members would come by and drop their kid off for me to watch while they all practiced. I was never asked. I was never invited to hang out with them. I was the chick in the other room with the kids. My role was made to expand to suit them, without thought of the sacrifice. I never realized how painful that was to me...to have people crawling all over my house but feel like I could not observe and participate. I always just thought I was being unnecessarily bitter, and inappropriately bitchy. Now I realize I wasn't bitter and bitchy ENOUGH. Fuck me and my damn inability to take a fucking stand.

One day, a different band, Monk was asleep and I joined L and the other guy in the back room after practice. I sat in the circle with them, but outside of their reality. I felt good, though. I was cracking jokes & the other guy was laughing. I watched their interactions - L's and this guy. I loved it when they were together because they were like brothers, from what little I observed. L, too, was always isolated from people due to his own self-imposed barriers. I used to love it so when he was with people who allowed him to let his guard down. He was always such a beautiful person when he let his guard down. It was rare, but it was incredible to observe.

So, I'm back there cracking wise and being open to life and love and feeling really good about things. And then the other guy left & L turned...and turned to me and accused me, raspily, of hitting on his friend. He accused me of being obvious and easy and embarrassing. He said his friend was just being polite by including me in the banter, but that I had made him so uncomfortable.

And I shrank. It was so easy to make me shrink then. It's easy to make someone shrink when that someone is not sure what it is that makes them big again. I shrank, visibly, it seemed. I am pretty sure I walked out of the room in silence. There were probably tears. Why would I hit on L's friend? At that point, I was still so totally in love with L that there would have been no point. I was just dying to be included, not only in L's life...but in life in general.

That's what I realized this morning. Maude, for the first time! How stupid am I? All of those years of hearing verbally and non-verbally about all of the sacrifices that L made when we had a child together, I never had time to think about what I sacrificed. Working full-time so many hours out of the day that I barely had time to see my baby, much less my husband, much, much less any sort of observable community. I sacrificed the things that made me who I am. And there was no room in the relationship to give voice to that.

I will say one thing, though. When I had community - I didn't recognize it for what it was. I certainly didn't appreciate it. We were just people out having fun. I had no idea that it was significant. So I never really fought for it. I just dutifully played the role I felt I was meant to play, as mother and provider and, now, abused and meek spouse.

And I can't blame L entirely. Before I met him, I had wandered around disconnected for some time. Isolation in the form of a move to Lubbock Texas, after so much trauma in Chicago. But at least at that point in my life I had the zine, I had friends via letters, I had long-distance community.

And I can't say it ended with L, either. In the midst of refinding a joyous community among the rubble of my confidence, I stumbled into another relationship which, unbeknownst to me at the time, was a pretty trap. And I realized that no matter how much freedom you are given in a relationship, if the other person in the relationship prefers isolation, isolation will rule the relationship, for me anyway, to a frustrating degree. Because participation in a lively community is not something one can do without one's partner. In fact, the very heart of my feelings of isolation is my need to share the beauty and joy of the world with everyone I know. That's sort of difficult to do when the person you are attempting to share it with sees no beauty or joy in community. And it's almost impossible to do when that person would rather stay in and watch a movie and have sex than do anything remotely life-affirming. Granted, sex can be incredibly life-affirming, but only to a point. After awhile, even the sex can be isolating. If you think about it (and I'll get to this later) sex can be the most isolating act of all.

So I woke up this morning with all of these realizations. Now what am I going to do about it? Well, for one, I'm in a self-imposed semi-isolation period these next few weeks - preparing for Pansy and her family to move in here. There is much to do and much to think about that requires me being here without much outside interaction & that's fine. In the month of November, the kids will be at their dad's house a lot (every weekend) and that will be my time to go out among people. The hard part is my nature. I am terribly shy. My friendships tend to grow, amoeba-like, out of themselves. In fact, I'm thinking about 2 or 3 of my closest friends in Austin, and they are people I met through other people. But even if I'm sitting by myself somewhere, I'm out and I'm observing, and that's what I like to do best of all.

I really think the key for me right now is to not get involved romantically with anyone. For whatever reason, this tends to make me feel more isolated. I was actually delighted to hear a gay priest interviewed on Fresh Air put this theory I have to words. He was talking about the reasons for celibacy. How being celibate enables him to love more people more fully. That's a very rote summary of what he said, but I find it to be true in my life. Sex complicates things for me. It was partially because of my insistence on not having sex when I was younger that I formed some of my closest relationships. I don't think I will ever be able to recreate the exact atmosphere in which those relationships were formed & I don't think I can (nor do I desire) to live without sex for the rest of my life...but I think it would be better for me if I just excluded it for a bit and allowed myself to fall in love with everything and everyone. No strings attached.

Let's Panic Later
The Ex

It's in your face, you gotta go
but don't do things that would make me cry
if you feel an urge, have a go
but I don't wanna hear your reasons why
all I see is your face
is the shape of things that tears replace
it's in your face you gotta go
just don't do things tht would make you cry

It's a ratrace go go go
every step meand a bigger wall
there's no u-turn signs ahead
for to rise thou shalt not fall

You're way beyond the 9-5
you thought you had a life?
well, you've had your 1 sec rest
it seems you passed the test

Which clock to beat is next
there's another phone to catch
time flies in a traffic jam
giving way to a dead end stretch

Don't stop if you want it all
be deaf for the burn-out call
but there's more that to live a lie
take breat, make room to sigh

Everything is getting faster
is it going anywhere...

It's a fastlane life
once you live it like a car
one day you're running out of gas
well, did it get you very far...

It's the age of aging
it's the age of aging
I'm not afraid of age and
not afraid of aging

And the carousel's cruising for another ride
guess who sits upfront, it's mr. make-it-mine
he puts another dime in your slotmachine
bt the jackpot hits you,
it's not the other way round

Everything is going fast
is it going anywhere...

Slowly I realized that it dawned on me
the younger you are, the more you wanna be
but living it fast? a thing from the past
any kind of age has ways to set you free
But it's not greed, or sleek behaviour
just do your own thing, you can always panic later
don't get stuck in the rut of that human car
now maybe I am pushing it,
am I pushing it too far?

It's the age of aging
I'm not afraid of age, end.

Posted at 8:31 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

I frequently forget myself.

June 11, 2005

I feel like I'm about to enter another phase of my life. I feel resistances being shed and frustrations on the verge of being acted upon. It's like looking down and suddenly realizing, fuck, I'm in shackles...and I have the fucking key! No, wait...it's actually like staring at a key in my hand, thinking "What the fuck is this key for?" and then realizing I'm locked up, and I've actually been this way for awhile without knowing.

I think the problem has been that there are so many weird external circumstances in my life that I have no control over. People exerting pressure, both positive and negative. I was just thinking of drawing a diagram to illustrate this, and I came up with a crude diagram of all of the people in my life who seem to be imposing limits on my life encircled by a fence, and I'm out there in the open, surrounded by freedom. And I thought "Boundaries, not limits."

What's the difference? Boundaries are demarcations left for other people to respect, limits are brick walls preventing exploration. Boundaries are healthy forms of communicating and applying control over how people treat you. Limits are obstacles. And, it's funny, because the two people who I am having the most difficulty with right now seem to have no boundaries (and/or no respect for my boundaries) but many, many limits.

So in the picture in my head, I have them all corralled into a little pasture marked by their limits, and I roam free outside that space. Seeking. Exploring. Learning. Enjoying my fulfilling life.

And then I had to read this poem, to remind myself:

Slake

Satiate or moderate you offer sips, I opt for slake. I give to give for you to take. Libate licentious raucaus rake. Upend the mug in throated draughts no subtle grins but belly laughs. My cup of tea philosophy is sweet deep drinking anarchy. Entire seas between the knees...a-drip, a-drop, a-turn-at-ease. You tell me "yr too much" I glee! "noway. I'm absolutely free!"

I've been doing that a lot lately, reading over old writing. What am I looking for? There are times that I do it to maintain myself. Because I have a tendency to forgive and forget, even if forgetting (if not forgiveness itself) is self-destructive) I need to remind myself that I have been wronged and I am awaiting acknowledgement and, hopefully, reconciliation. There are times when I do it to examine myself. To look at this person who wrote these words through a telescope of time and situation. Sometimes I don't recognize myself. Almost always I am impressed with myself. It is funny, isn't it? I always think that what I'm writing now is sheer crap that is nothing worth reading, yet it never fails that when I read over it two years later I will be impressed with the strength of my voice, or its honesty. Sometimes I wonder if I really am a writer. If maybe I'm like the person who thinks they know how to sing and sings loudly and everyone else hears screeching caterwaul. So I read over to make sure I'm not making a fool of myself. And sometimes I am embarrassed, but not often.

But I reread also to look for breadcrumbs. Little wisdoms that I do not always even understand when I drop them, but that become apparent as I gain experience. Like reading a book at different times in your life, my life has different meanings each time I read it. It's strange and wonderful and scary and beautiful and informative and true. It's all of these things. And I'm glad to have the reminder.

Posted at 10:33 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Escalation

January 8, 2004

Last night something happened here that shifted the playing field a bit in terms of my relationship with L. A message was sent that very clearly said "You WILL play by MY rules, and I'm not afraid to fuck with the kids to get my point across." It was absolutely unacceptable behavior, and it has spurred me into action on the "getting things taken care of legal-like" front. It's also caused me to spend a lot of time this morning having to balance degrees of unacceptability in my head. Like "this scenario is bad, but is it worse than THIS scenario." And, mostly, I've run up against the wall of having to choose between any of several less than ideal solutions. And, really, sometimes it feels like the only best thing I can do is wait and hope that the best solution will come to me.

Meanwhile, I'm walking around my house, feeling like I am struggling to hold it all together. I just had an image of myself appear in my brain like a flash. It was an image of me standing with my arms and legs splayed out exerting pressure on the interior walls of my house, doing my best to keep everything from falling down on top of me. I was fully awake when I had this vision. I was walking back to the office to feed the cat, and Coley was scooting himself along the floor in a chair and Monk had just gone off to read a book and things were peaceful for awhile but I just felt like screaming.

I didn't. But that's how I feel. I've had visions like this before, like the persistent vision I used to have of myself at the bottom of a calendar - I had pulled the string that divides the days from each other, and all of the numbers and days of the week had tumbled down into a pile that I was drowning in.

I know what these visions mean. I know that I'm struggling to hold things together/hold things UP around here. At this moment, I would give anything to just allow someone to fold me up in their arms and let me cry and cry and cry for a long long time and then dry up all of my tears and go out and have a nice dinner or something. I don't want to have to explain or to reason or to plan or to reflect or to take care of something. What I want is for someone to take care of me for a change. Wordlessly. For just a little while. That's all I want.

For a little while, I would like to not have to wonder whether the decisions I am making or not making will be detrimental to someone other than myself. I would like to know for sure that I'm doing the best that I can. I would like to be able to see into the future and know that all of the decisions and choices I have made...even the wrong ones...have culminated in the foundation of two very happy, healthy, emotionally stable and fulfilled children. That's all I really want. That's all I really need. To know that they are OK. Because I am always, ultimately OK, and I'm able to fight for what I need. They don't even have the words to put to what they need, and they are having to deal with so much bullshit...and there is no way of knowing which decision is the right one for them.

I can wear my wonder woman cuffs and deflect all of the bullets that are shot at me, but even wonder woman can't necessarily predict who will be hit by the ricochet.

Posted at 12:09 PM • Comments (8) • TrackBack

Men, Abuse, and Me

December 19, 2003

I feel like I need to/want to address some of the issues that came up here last week with my posts about abuse and the subsequent comments which I felt were inappropriate. I didn't want to explain myself any further last week, because I didn't feel like explaining my viewpoint to a certain individual or anyone coming over from his site was productive or worthwhile, but I do feel like it's worth my while to process this stuff, and it might be worthwhile for me to process it out loud.

This might get long and rambly and, starting out, I'm not even sure what my point will be or if I have a point. I have spent the past week or so trying to sort out the emotions behind the "discussion" last week - and really trying to figure out if this is a safe place to even discuss my personal experience within the context of an abusive relationship. Or if it's even ethical for me to discuss my abusive relationship, considering you are only hearing my end of it and not the "other side" as it were. And there is plenty that I need to say and clarify about that - at least introspectively - and since I dragged the readers of my blog into it, I might as well say it out loud.

First of all, I need to state something so that it's clear and absolute. I have never asserted that there is never a situation in which a man is abused by a woman. It would be ludicrous for me to state this or even really think it. I have never known a man to be abused by a woman, but that doesn't mean that abused men do not exist.

However, I do harbor a great deal of suspicion for men who press the issue of the battered man as if it deserves equal time/attention/funding as the issue of battered women AS A SOCIAL ISSUE. Obviously, on a personal level, abuse does not discriminate based on gender, but when you add the institution of sexism to an abusive relationship, you end up with a great deal of imbalance that simply isn't part of the equation when discussing battered men.

So, yes, anecdotally speaking, I feel extreme empathy for any man who has been beaten or otherwise abused by a woman. And I'm sure I would comiserate...if I actually knew any men who could honestly tell me that this was their reality. Fortunately, I do not. Instead, I hear from men who want to tell me that I am somehow denying their experience as ostensibly non-abused men by focusing only on my personal experience of abuse. It's ridiculous. I mean, I can ALMOST see this being an issue if I were to speak about abuse in the abstract, although for the reasons stated above, it's not an issue as far as I'm concerned...but to be accused of denying the existence of the battered male when I am discussing my own personal abusive relationship is at best absolutely absurd. There are no abused men in my relationship, although my husband would like you to think there is.

Speaking of my husband, I have for years debated about the ethics of posting potentially disparaging remarks about him in my blog. Obviously, no human being wants to be known as the "abusive ex spouse" or "the jackass I had kids with" or whatever else I might conjure up in a negative space. My conclusion, after years of arguing with myself about this, is that *I* own my experiences, and I am allowed to write about the experiences that are mine. The problem with this is that there is a very important dynamic in our relationship which is caused by a reality that my husband faces, and by intentionally not discussing that dynamic or reality (because it is not an experience that I feel I own) I probably come across as less than sympathetic when it comes to my husband. You, dear reader, will just have to trust me when I tell you I don't lack sympathy for the father of my children. The problem is that having sympathy for him was getting in the way of me creating a healthy household for myself and my children. Sympathy was not enough to make things better. I don't hate my husband, and I don't wish him dead, and I don't wish him out of my life. I simply wish (probably unrealistically) for him to stop using manipulative and controlling tactics to evade responsibility for his actions (or non-actions.) That frustration is there, and it builds up, and if it doesn't get expressed - it causes a tremendous amount of anger. People who see only that dimension of my relationship with him are probably going to think that I walk around here like a ticking timebomb while he is here. I don't. Most of the time, I'm able to interact with him calmly and cordially. I know, too, that he loves it when I don't, because it enables him to tell me that I'm irrational or "too" emotional or whatever else.

I found this passage in the book interesting, as I can relate to it to a great extent:

How Society Adopts the Abuser's Perspective
Almost anyone can become an ally of an abusive man by inadvertantly adopting his perspective. People usually don't even notice that they are supporting abusive thinking, or they wouldn't do it. Let's examine some of the most common forms of accidental support:

The person who says to the abused woman: "You should show him some compassion even if he has done bad things. Don't forget that he's a human being too."

I have almost never worked with an abused woman who overlooked her partner's humanity. The problem is the reverse: He forgets her humanity. Acknowledging his abusiveness and speaking forcefully and honestly about how he has hurt her is indispensable to her recovery. It is the abuser's perspective that she is being mean to him by speaking bluntly about the damage he has done. To suggest ot her that his need for compassion should come before her right to live free from abuse is consistent with the abuser's outlook. I have repeatedly seen the tendency among friends and acquaintances of an abused woman to feel that it is their responsibility to make sure that she realizes what a great person he really is inside - in other words, to stay focused on his needs rather than her own, which is a mistake. People who wish to help an abused woman should instead by telling her what a good person she is.

[...]

The person who says: "These abuse activists are anti-male."

How is it anti-male to be against abuse? Are we supposed to pretend we don't notice that hte overwhelming majority of abusers are male? This accusation parallels the abuser's words to his partner: "The reason you think I'm abusive is because you have a problem with men*!" One of the best counters to this piece of side-tracking is to point out how many men are active in combating the abuse of women. Remember allso that abused women are the sisters, daughters, mothers, and friends of men; mens lives are affeted by abuse, because it happens to women we know and care about.

*Yes, I have heard that exact quote from L.

Another way L's abuse manifests is in the way he attempts or has attempted to manipulate me based on my strong beliefs. For years, I allowed him to stay in the home because there was an implied threat that if I split up with him, I would be unable to homeschool the children. And, in fact, after I went to work on the day I told him that I was completely serious about breaking up, he told Monk that Monk "was going to be starting 2nd grade, and mama will pack you a lunch, and you will get to play on the playground with all of the other kids." I came home to hear this part of the story from Monk, as well as an emphatic "And I'm on dad's side, mom. I want to go to school now."

Earlier that day, I had actually asked Monk if he was satisfied with his experience as a homeschool. I wasn't threatening or leading him. I was honestly curious if he felt his needs were being filled. He told me emphatically that he never wanted to go to school. Ever.

L has also used my political beliefs as a means to attempt to manipulate me. He criticized me for "dragging the state into our relationship" when I told him I wanted a divorce. And he justifies much of his irresponsibility by saying that he thought we lived an "alternative lifestyle" in which this particular kind of irresponsibility is acceptable.

Of course, I believe I have told the story of Cole's birth, where L refused to take Monk out of the house when I was in labor. I was trying to get some rest, and Monk was punching and kicking and slapping me because I would not play with him. I pleaded with L to please take him away so I could get some rest, because I was in labor. L stretched out on the bed, closed his eyes, and fell asleep, leaving me to fend for myself. I remember I called a friend in tears, begging for her to come and take care of Monk so I could rest up for the birth. She was planning to come over right from work, and for some reason I told L that I was expecting someone to come get Monk at 5:30. At 5:15, L got out of bed and took Monk out to go buy some shoes, so when my friend got there, they were gone. This is very much the same kind of abuse that L demonstrates when he refuses to stay here and watch the kids when I am sick. I spent practically my entire vacation in bed, and he left 1-2 hours early each day...because I was here in the house and he felt "uncomfortable" watching the kids with me here - even though most of the time I was curled up under the covers fighting whatever illness had taken over.

In fact, it is the story of how L acted when I was in labor with Cole that I go back to again and again as the tangible evidence of his abusive behavior towards me. It's not the only evidence of abuse, but it's the only tangible evidence. It's the only clear, unobfuscated anecdote I can relate to people to help them to understand what it is like to live with L.

Other than that, L is pretty much a textbook (according to this book) "Water Torturer:"

The Water Torturer's style proves that anger doesn't cause abuse. He can assault his partner psychologically without even raising his voice. He tends to stay calm in arguments, using his own evenness as a weapon to push her over the edge. He often has a superior or contemptuous grin on his face, smug and self-assured. He uses a repertoire of aggressive conversational tactics at low volume, including sarcasm, derision - such as openly laughing at her - mimicking her voice, and cruel, cutting remarks. [...]he tends to take things she has said and twist them beyond recognition to make her appear absurd [...]He gets to his partner through a slow but steady stream of low-level emotional assaults[...]He is relentless in his quiet derision and meanness.
The impact on a woman of all these subtle tactics is that either her blood temperature rises to a boil or she feels stupid and inferior, or some combination of the two. In an argument, she may end up yelling in frustration, leaving the room crying, or sinking into silence. The Water Torturer then says, "See, you're the abusive one, not me. You're the one who's yelling and refusing to talk things out rationally. I wasn't even raising my voice. It's impossible to reason with you."

The psychological effects of living with the Water Torturer can be severe. His tactics can be difficult to identify, so they sink in deeply. Women can find it difficult not to blame themselves for their reactions to what their partner does if they don't even know what to call it. When someone slaps you in the face, you know you've been slapped. But when a woman feels psychologically assaulted, with little idea why, after an argument with the Water Torturer, she may turn her frustration inward. How do you seek support from a friend, for example, when you don't know how to describe what is going wrong?

[...]If you are involved with a Water Torturer, you may struggle for years trying to figure out what is happening. You may feel that you overreact to his behavior and that he isn't really so bad. But the effects of his control and contempt have crept up on you over the years. If you finally leave him, you may experience periods of delayed rage, as you become conscious of how quietly but deathly oppressive he was.

[...]
The central attitudes driving the Water Torturer are:

You are crazy. You fly off the handle over nothing.

I can easily convince other people that you're the one who is messed up

As long as I'm calm, you can't call anything I do abusive, no matter how cruel

I know exactly how to get under your skin

I also found some of the characteristics of "The Victim" familiar, and perhaps that is why I'm so suspicious of men who press the issue of the battered male:

When the Victim joins an abuser group, his story tends to go like this: "I put up with my partner's mistreatment of me for years, and I never fought back or even tried to defend myself. But I finally couldn't take it anymore, and I started to give her back a little taste of what she was doing to me. So now I've been labeled abusive. Women are allowed to do these things and nobody cares, but as soon as a man does it he's a pariah."
This line of reasoning many times develops into a discussion of how men are the victims of women overall in society, because women run the world. This is a startling distortion, given which gender actually dominates almost all legislatures, police departments, judgeships, businesses, and so on ad nauseum. When I point out this reality to the Victim, he describes a kind of paranoid fantasy in which women are behind the scenes secretly pulling the strings, largely by getting men to feel sorry for them. His capacity for turning things into their oposites in this way is a central cause of his abusiveness.

One of the things L told me when things really started going downhill for us was that he was tired of my shit, and tired of me treating him the way I was treating him (although in the three years I earnestly asked for a clear definition of how he was being mistreated, he was never able to come up with one) and that he was just not going to take it anymore. He asserted that he had done his best to be nice and accommodating to me, but that he felt he no longer owed me that. And, poof, from that point on he basically refused to go out of his way to do anything to make my life any easier, in spite of the fact that I was basically in a position where I couldn't NOT make his life easier. If that makes any sense. In other words, he knew that if he abdicated responsibility with regard to the children, I was not going to let it harm them, and i would pick up the slack. I would buy food. I would pay the bills. I would continue to be the responsible adult because someone had to take care of the children. Basically, the way I see it, L invented a reason to be resentful of me - a reason that might very well have been based on an actual wrongdoing on my part, but which remained undisclosed ("If you don't know by now, there's no hope that you will ever know." he would say. And yet, he refused to leave the relationship because one day I "might straighten up and start acting right.") so I was not able to apologize or correct my behavior - and he used that as an excuse to act like an ass towards me, regardless of how clearly I expressed that I felt his behavior towards me was inappropriate, and regardless of my attempts at trying to rectify our problems with each other.

I also have to say that I do not feel that all men are abusive. At the same time, many men, when I have spoken with about my relationship with L and the passages from this book that I am relating to, have responded by saying that they see themselves in those passages, and it makes them uncomfortable. I have to say that there are some parts of the book that I see myself in, as well. I think the key is power, and how power is handled in a relationship.

For instance, in my relationship with L, for the past 3 years, I have been the sole income-earner in our household. I've been wary of this, because I believe this places a lot of unasked-for power into my hands. However, I have not desired to be the sole income-earner, and I have told L many times that he needed to earn some money to help the household get back into financial shape. His excuse has always been that my schedule doesn't allow for him to get a job (I work evenings) but I have made it clear that I have several options for babysitters and could make it work. He also claims that he does not wish to leave cole with babysitters until he's "whatever age is about a year past the age he is currently." This would be an admirable excuse if all of my babysitting options weren't personal friends of mine who I trust beyond a doubt with my kids, and if the kids would be in any childcare situation for more than an hour or so a day.

At any rate, it turns out that all of my fears of being in a position of power in my relationship with L were totally unfounded. In actuality, L is in a position of power, because he is the one with the ultimate ability to abdicate his parental responsibilities, but to continue to hold the threat over my head that he can somehow prove that I am an inadequate parent. This is an unstated and probably unrealistic threat, but it exists nonetheless. And I find it's a fairly consistent dynamic in the lives of single mama friends of mine. Everyone seems to, at one point or another, freak out about the possibility of having their custodial rights challenged or taken away by the biological father of the children. This is a particular challenge for my mama friends who are poor and/or leading alternative lifestyles of one sort or another.

Believe it or not, the book had something to say about this, as well, in the chapter called "Abusive Men as Parents" in the section titled "The Abuser's Tactics in Custody Disputes:"

Appealing to Popular Misconceptions Several misleading arguments appear repeatedly in statements that abusers make during family court litigation. First is the claim that fathers are widely discriminated against by family courts in custody disputes. The research actually shows the opposite, that in fact fathers have been at a distinct advantage in custody battles in the United States since the late 1970's, when the maternal preference went out of vogue. Next often comes the myth that children of divorce fare better in joint custody, when the research shows overwhelmingly that they in fact do worse, except in those cases where their parents remain on good terms after the divorce and can co-parent cooperatively - which is almost impossible for a woman to do with an abusive ex-partner. Abusive men also assert falsely that there is a rampant problem of women's false allegations of abuse, that child support obligations are unfairly high, that domestic abuse is irrelevant to custody decisions, and that men are abused in relationships as much as women.

I think I'm going to have to end this for now, and perhaps take it up later. I'm feeling a little exposed after what happened last week, but I also feel like I have a lot to tell. I feel like I am lucky to have been able to get out of my relationship with L with relatively little damage. I think my financial position, and the fact that I was already earning an income that I knew could at least mostly cover all of the living expenses here is what really saved my ass. I worry for the mamas who are in relationships in which they basically live at the mercy of their abusive partners. Even in my position, it took years to really gather the strength to leave the situation.

Before I close this, I need to vent a little anger at some people who I feel were insensitive (and continue to be insenstive) to the issues I am discussing here. One person in particular, who I had really assumed was someone who was at least a good acquaintance if not a friend, said some fairly awful things about me behind my back WHILE I WAS CHATTING WITH HIM on AIM. I thought that was pretty crappy. I also resent being belittled, and having it implied that my problems with my relationship with L were somehow the result of immaturity on my part or an inability on my part to "compromise" or truly "love." Believe it or not, I do know what love feels like, and I know what love looks like, and I know what love IS. I hope the person who said these things is not put in a situation where he has to actually communicate on a face to face level with a woman who is processing an abusive relationship, because I worry that he is capable of doing some severe damage. In addition, there were several people who actually diagnosed me with a mental illness for setting boundaries in my space about what I felt was appropriate in the context of my processing. This pissed me off not only because it was potentially harmful to me (I was, however, relieved to find that it had a relatively minor affect on me) but also because I know for a fact that there are women reading this blog who identify and relate very strongly with what I am writing about, and for a person to feel entitled to come here and invalidate what I am relating and then to proceed to call me crazy for voicing objection to this invalidation is just absolutely the very definition of abuse. It is damaging because it discourages women from speaking their truth about their experiences. And, basically, it just sucks all around. I am not saying these things to start another argument. I am saying these things because they need to be said.

I want to also explain a little something about me. I don't fuck around with people who I don't give a shit about. In other words, if I get from you that you are worthy of my time and will actually respect and listen to my explanations of things, I will give you my respect. I'm so pleased to be an adult and to be allowed to make these decisions for myself. If you have somehow indicated that you are not worthy of my respect (HINT: typically people who say racist/sexist/heterosexist shit are NOT worthy of my respect or time) I will probably not be very nice to you. It's just the way it goes. I don't have time to politely explain myself to every idiot who wanders in here demanding explanation and respect. If I feel you are beyond hope, I'm not going to waste my valuable time or yours attempting to live up to your warped idea of what I "owe" to you.

And, too, I want to thank those of you who were supportive of the way I handled those interactions. There were many who voiced and displayed support in numerous ways, both publically and privately, and I appreciate it.

I'll probably write more on this topic later, and I want to dig up some links to some of the heavier subjects in this post, but I really need to get some sleep. I hope everyone is having a good night/morning/afternoon. Until I post again...take care.

DruBlood

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suicide

August 17, 2006

Chaotic Collective Cacophony

April 9, 2006

There is no reason for you to hide.

April 8, 2006

The origins of things

March 30, 2006

Healing.

February 27, 2006

Sound system gonna bring me back up...

February 27, 2006

Growth, Giving Up, and more Growth

February 21, 2006

What Then?

December 1, 2005

Navel Gazing (or relationships, isolation, community, and sex)

October 8, 2005

I frequently forget myself.

June 11, 2005

Escalation

January 8, 2004

Men, Abuse, and Me

December 19, 2003

I believe in the inherent goodness of all beings.

October 4, 2003