Arkady, Mike and a couple of Becca's friends showed up to help us move out today. Isn't it great to have friends? When the proverbial doodo hits the fan, you always find out who your true friends are - the ones who'd bail you out in a pinch at 0130 in the morning.
Once we'd moved most of the heavy furniture, and put Becca's stuff into storage, I could tell that Arkady had had enough. Bless him, his wife is at home with the 'flu, and he was willing to give up the better part of his day to do unpaid physical labour. As always, we enjoyed intelligent conversation, and after moving, a cold Yuengling Black and Tan (think dark beer - for those who don't know the brand name) went down very well too.
I gave Becca a hug and a kiss and said goodbye, then followed Mike to Green Cove Springs in my little Hyundai. Christiansson and I sang our hearts out to Switchfoot, Imogen Heap and other artists.
We're going to make it. We're gonna be okay.
And, now that I am separated and moved into my new "fixed abode", I sit with Christiansson, Mike and Jane, in G.C.S., beer in hand watching "Fast Five" and wondering what is around the next corner...
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
My Last Night With Rebecca (Jessica Finally Calls)
I couldn't focus properly at work today. My aim was all out of whack as I tried to shoot ceiling wires, and I found myself cursing roundly, because my supervisors were watching, and I was looking bad.
"F-bombs" rained down for a few seconds as I could not help but consider how angry I am at the indifference that Becca has been displaying toward me and the finality of what lies before me.
My supervisors knew exactly what was going on, and instead of riding me, they reassured me that my life is not at much of a debacle as I feel and that I'm going to be just fine. I was glad when three-thirty rolled around.
I managed to leave work and get to the tax office on time early enough to be able to surrrender the tag from the car that Becca wrecked recently and I also succeeded in finding a notary (at my bank) to notarize some of my divorce documents.
Since Becca had to work until ten p.m. tonight, I picked up a movie to watch with Christiansson, and after suppper we enjoyed kicking back with "National Treasure 2", but not before I received my first phone call from Jessica - the pretty blonde lady that Christiansson and I met last Sunday. We spoke for the better part of forty minutes. She is intelligent and creative, I can tell. She is a talker. I am glad of this. She said that she would like to lie on a blanket with me and stare at the stars. She wants to hear all my stories - we could trade tale for tale. She is, as I am, also keen to keep things platonic. I invited her for a walk on the beach on Sunday. She has accepted my invitation.
Well, what can I say. Becca may have no interest in me, but I'll get over all of this hogwash, and I'll find a way to do it quickly, but carefully.
I'm going to make it.
"F-bombs" rained down for a few seconds as I could not help but consider how angry I am at the indifference that Becca has been displaying toward me and the finality of what lies before me.
My supervisors knew exactly what was going on, and instead of riding me, they reassured me that my life is not at much of a debacle as I feel and that I'm going to be just fine. I was glad when three-thirty rolled around.
I managed to leave work and get to the tax office on time early enough to be able to surrrender the tag from the car that Becca wrecked recently and I also succeeded in finding a notary (at my bank) to notarize some of my divorce documents.
Since Becca had to work until ten p.m. tonight, I picked up a movie to watch with Christiansson, and after suppper we enjoyed kicking back with "National Treasure 2", but not before I received my first phone call from Jessica - the pretty blonde lady that Christiansson and I met last Sunday. We spoke for the better part of forty minutes. She is intelligent and creative, I can tell. She is a talker. I am glad of this. She said that she would like to lie on a blanket with me and stare at the stars. She wants to hear all my stories - we could trade tale for tale. She is, as I am, also keen to keep things platonic. I invited her for a walk on the beach on Sunday. She has accepted my invitation.
Well, what can I say. Becca may have no interest in me, but I'll get over all of this hogwash, and I'll find a way to do it quickly, but carefully.
I'm going to make it.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Text Messages
After my criticism last night, Becca texted me this morning: "I appreciate that this is your perspective and respect your opinion. As I've been such a difficult and uncaring wife, I am glad for you that you can now start over and I hope you'll come to feel that you've been given a second chance at life."
I replied: "I can tell that you are hurting - not what I wish for you. My heart feels grief over this. I can also tell that after all these years you still don't get it. I have not sought a second chance at 'life', but to grow in love through all of the difficulties and differences, regardless of the pain or presence or lack of happiness, which is such an elusive emotion. I have an abiding hope that one day you will understand what I am rattling on about. Until then we will continue to gently disagree, but not because I am being condescending, unkind, or dismissive of your feelings. I cannot make you see what I have tried to point out for eighteen years. I have been bowed over like a wind blown sapling for these years, but I shall stand up straight from now on. Your brother and committed friend."
I replied: "I can tell that you are hurting - not what I wish for you. My heart feels grief over this. I can also tell that after all these years you still don't get it. I have not sought a second chance at 'life', but to grow in love through all of the difficulties and differences, regardless of the pain or presence or lack of happiness, which is such an elusive emotion. I have an abiding hope that one day you will understand what I am rattling on about. Until then we will continue to gently disagree, but not because I am being condescending, unkind, or dismissive of your feelings. I cannot make you see what I have tried to point out for eighteen years. I have been bowed over like a wind blown sapling for these years, but I shall stand up straight from now on. Your brother and committed friend."
The Pot Calling The Kettle Black
Last night I spoke with Becca and asked her if she had considered just how selfish she was being in seeking "happiness" (as she put it), in such a way that effectively forces me out of Christiansson's life for most of the week, for the remainder of his childhood years. It means, due to the nature of my work and our already strapped budget that he will live with her during the weekdays and weekday evenings, and my relationship with him after school on weekday evenings will be all but erased, seeing as we will not be living in the same home together.
I am so surprised that Rebecca, being forty years old now, and having often told me how much spiritual maturity she feels she has attained, could not answer my question. She simply reminded me of how she had been feeling: "Remember that for years now, I have wished and prayed for your death or mine..."
I then decided that it was time to explain some things that I have never really explained to her before - essentially that I had wished for a divorce from her during our first year of our marriage, because she had been so difficult and contentious. I opted instead for a life of learning to love through persevering and through believing the best in her. I had consistently spoken positively over her, in a constant effort to break through, always believing that whatever differences we had, we could work through them. Over the years, I sacrificed many dreams in order to nurture my love for her, but I do not remember ever once having heard her say to me, "I love you." Becca denied that that was true.
"Really?" I asked. "Honestly, unless you were prompted, or in the event of a birthday, or whatnot, I seriously do not remember ever hearing you, by your own initial volition ever having said that you loved me."
"Not true." She replied.
"Well, as you always tell me, when I disagree with you - this is how I FEEL." I replied.
"I'm sorry I've been such a dreadful woman, and awful wife!" Becca retorted.
"I do not mean to hurt you, Becca..." I said, "What you must know is that I have deliberately not kept a record of wrongs to keep digging up at each disagreement, which for some reason, you always seem to do. Whatever happened ten, thirteen, fifteen years ago is over. Why must you keep rehashing it? You sound bitter and unforgiving. I have kept quiet for so many years about what a difficult woman you have been to love - your bitterness, argumentative nature and the total lack of respect that you showed me from day one provoked ME to want to leave you all the way back at the beginning. Here is an example of just one grievance that I kept unspoken: why did you always feel you needed to interrupt our conversations with friends in order to finish my sentences for me? You did this even before we were married. I have not bothered you with this annoyance, instead I chose to keep silent about it and many, many other grievances and love you through all of it. Becca, you must know, that as difficult as you think it has been to have to live with me, honey, I have had as much difficulty in living with you. Even so, I want for us to persevere and learn to love better, because I believe that love is not about constant happiness, but about commitment and serving one another. Happiness comes and goes.
Becca could not answer me. I retired to bed, then returned to write her a brief note of thanks and confirming my respect for her, for she had not argued with me at all during my little diatribe. In fact I felt that she had listened very carefully. As I thought about how patiently she had listened to my criticism and efforts to point out her hypocrisy, I was moved with sadness that I had felt the need to expose her as I did, and I felt overwhelmed with gratitude that she had actually listened to my point of view. I then felt so much like the proverbial pot which calls the kettle black.
I am so surprised that Rebecca, being forty years old now, and having often told me how much spiritual maturity she feels she has attained, could not answer my question. She simply reminded me of how she had been feeling: "Remember that for years now, I have wished and prayed for your death or mine..."
I then decided that it was time to explain some things that I have never really explained to her before - essentially that I had wished for a divorce from her during our first year of our marriage, because she had been so difficult and contentious. I opted instead for a life of learning to love through persevering and through believing the best in her. I had consistently spoken positively over her, in a constant effort to break through, always believing that whatever differences we had, we could work through them. Over the years, I sacrificed many dreams in order to nurture my love for her, but I do not remember ever once having heard her say to me, "I love you." Becca denied that that was true.
"Really?" I asked. "Honestly, unless you were prompted, or in the event of a birthday, or whatnot, I seriously do not remember ever hearing you, by your own initial volition ever having said that you loved me."
"Not true." She replied.
"Well, as you always tell me, when I disagree with you - this is how I FEEL." I replied.
"I'm sorry I've been such a dreadful woman, and awful wife!" Becca retorted.
"I do not mean to hurt you, Becca..." I said, "What you must know is that I have deliberately not kept a record of wrongs to keep digging up at each disagreement, which for some reason, you always seem to do. Whatever happened ten, thirteen, fifteen years ago is over. Why must you keep rehashing it? You sound bitter and unforgiving. I have kept quiet for so many years about what a difficult woman you have been to love - your bitterness, argumentative nature and the total lack of respect that you showed me from day one provoked ME to want to leave you all the way back at the beginning. Here is an example of just one grievance that I kept unspoken: why did you always feel you needed to interrupt our conversations with friends in order to finish my sentences for me? You did this even before we were married. I have not bothered you with this annoyance, instead I chose to keep silent about it and many, many other grievances and love you through all of it. Becca, you must know, that as difficult as you think it has been to have to live with me, honey, I have had as much difficulty in living with you. Even so, I want for us to persevere and learn to love better, because I believe that love is not about constant happiness, but about commitment and serving one another. Happiness comes and goes.
Becca could not answer me. I retired to bed, then returned to write her a brief note of thanks and confirming my respect for her, for she had not argued with me at all during my little diatribe. In fact I felt that she had listened very carefully. As I thought about how patiently she had listened to my criticism and efforts to point out her hypocrisy, I was moved with sadness that I had felt the need to expose her as I did, and I felt overwhelmed with gratitude that she had actually listened to my point of view. I then felt so much like the proverbial pot which calls the kettle black.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Searching For Lost Time
Busy, busy, busy...
My internet service provider failed to provide me with service for the past three days, so even if I had time to blog, I would have had to leave the comfort of home and travel to McDonalds, or Starbucks, or some other free Wi-Fi spot. Grr, the frustration of paying for service that is not delivered!
At last, Comcast has gotten their act together again, so here I sit, in bed at 11:25 p.m.with my laptop open, and a little trepidation about the fact that I need to be up at 0520 tomorrow morning to be able to get ready in time to leave for work at 0600. I wonder: what can I crank out that will allow me to summarize the past few days, but still allow me enough rest to overcome what seems to me to be a case of pharyngitis - I think I managed to scratch my throat with a potato chip, or a rough piece of toast, or something along those lines, and (probably due to stress, and lack of sleep) now have a painful time swallowing. The glands on each side of my neck are tender to the touch, so that tells me that my immune system is trying to deal with something. I don't know if I picked up a virus at the restaurant on Saturday, or whatnot, but it is annoying.
I have been running back and forth between the local Navy Recruitment stations in order to process a re-enlistment, as I am seeking to enter the U.S. Navy Reserve program, which will pay me a modest sum of money monthly and various benefits, including money for college. Yesterday, after work, I passed a Navy typing test with the highest grade I could get, and then signed up for a membership with a local gym - I need an extra place to be sure that I can get a shower and shave, in the event that I need to occasionally overnight somewhere in my car, seeing as Becca is technically making me homeless. Between doing this business of to-and-fro with the Navy and work, and two nights of night school each week, and homework along with a pending divorce, I really have been struggling to get as much sleep as I would like. I need to slow down.
Becca and I will move into separate abodes as of this coming Saturday.
I am caught somewhere between the feelings of relief and shock.
I am in limbo, and it feels weird.
My internet service provider failed to provide me with service for the past three days, so even if I had time to blog, I would have had to leave the comfort of home and travel to McDonalds, or Starbucks, or some other free Wi-Fi spot. Grr, the frustration of paying for service that is not delivered!
At last, Comcast has gotten their act together again, so here I sit, in bed at 11:25 p.m.with my laptop open, and a little trepidation about the fact that I need to be up at 0520 tomorrow morning to be able to get ready in time to leave for work at 0600. I wonder: what can I crank out that will allow me to summarize the past few days, but still allow me enough rest to overcome what seems to me to be a case of pharyngitis - I think I managed to scratch my throat with a potato chip, or a rough piece of toast, or something along those lines, and (probably due to stress, and lack of sleep) now have a painful time swallowing. The glands on each side of my neck are tender to the touch, so that tells me that my immune system is trying to deal with something. I don't know if I picked up a virus at the restaurant on Saturday, or whatnot, but it is annoying.
I have been running back and forth between the local Navy Recruitment stations in order to process a re-enlistment, as I am seeking to enter the U.S. Navy Reserve program, which will pay me a modest sum of money monthly and various benefits, including money for college. Yesterday, after work, I passed a Navy typing test with the highest grade I could get, and then signed up for a membership with a local gym - I need an extra place to be sure that I can get a shower and shave, in the event that I need to occasionally overnight somewhere in my car, seeing as Becca is technically making me homeless. Between doing this business of to-and-fro with the Navy and work, and two nights of night school each week, and homework along with a pending divorce, I really have been struggling to get as much sleep as I would like. I need to slow down.
Becca and I will move into separate abodes as of this coming Saturday.
I am caught somewhere between the feelings of relief and shock.
I am in limbo, and it feels weird.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Moonlighting (A Tale of Two Jessicas)
Saturday looked much as it has done for the past few months: Woke up and made pancakes and scrambled eggs for Becca and Christiansson, enjoyed the warmth of the water on my hands as I washed dishes and reveled inwardly at the sense of serenity I felt in the cosiness of my own home. I smiled wryly as I considered that next Saturday will be my last one in this house. Becca and I have decided to move out just that little bit earlier than we had originally planned. We will both be staying at different friends' homes. I will have to find my serenity in my car, or at Mike and Jane's, or Guy's or at Esteban's place from now on and for the immediate future. One day I'll have my 28 or 29 footer - a little sailing boat that Christiansson and I can hang out on. Oh, what a debacle this whole thing is. We should be celebrating our nineteenth anniversary on December 5th.
Before work (my moonlighting job at an upscale local restaurant), Christiansson and I went to a park close to where we live. We shot a few hoops and threw a football around. What a beautiful, sunny day it was, with touch of cool, light breeze - unforgettable moments. I noticed a pretty blonde woman who was walking around and picking up litter. I was impressed by her noble display of concern for the appearance of her neighborhood, so I hailed her over to where Christiansson and I were standing. I introduced myself and Christiansson to Jessica and we struck up an interesting conversation in which we agreed that it was of mutual interest to perhaps meet again with the view to exploring a purely platonic relationship. She has been divorced for a year and a half, has a five year old child and seems to have a great deal of understanding of my situation. I gave her my number and told her to call me if she ever fancies a chat.
After work at the restaurant, I shared a couple of beers with a few of my colleagues and one of them, bizarrely also named Jessica, soon became inebriated, at which point, after flirting outrageously (she is married) with two young strangers, got in my face for the better part of ten or fifteen minutes, her cheeks brushing mine and her spit flying into my face as she delivered a diatribe on how I need to stop being sorry for myself and focus on being the great dad that she knows I am.
Holy cow, there was chemistry between us. I found myself deperately fighting off the tension between my thighs (think "semi") as she stared at me with her pretty blue eyes dancing in and out of my personal space, and her little paintbrush ponytail jogging back and forth.
I told her that if she were single, I'd probably hang out with her.
She said, "Yeah, but you know what? I wouldn't hang out with you, because you are going to be a great dad and you are a great dad, and that's what you've got to be. You have to stop being a selfish bastard and not make this all about you anymore, because in the three months I have known you at the restaurant, all I have heard you go on about is how bad things are going because your wife is leaving you. It's time to man up and suck it up!" Her cheek brushed by mine again. I could feel that dull throbbing between my thighs again. Oh crap...
No, no, no, she's married. Stop this... I can't feel anything for her. I won't feel anything for her. But she's making me feel again. I don't believe it - I'm actually feeling a touch of excitement here!
I left the bar at 0200 - closing time. Jessica kissed me on the lips, quickly, but almost with a sense of deep fondness - that's how it felt to me. I did not reciprocate. Instead I stood still for a moment, bemused, and enchanted with the realization that I am going to be okay. Then I walked to my car. I'm going to survive.
Guess I still have what it takes...
Before work (my moonlighting job at an upscale local restaurant), Christiansson and I went to a park close to where we live. We shot a few hoops and threw a football around. What a beautiful, sunny day it was, with touch of cool, light breeze - unforgettable moments. I noticed a pretty blonde woman who was walking around and picking up litter. I was impressed by her noble display of concern for the appearance of her neighborhood, so I hailed her over to where Christiansson and I were standing. I introduced myself and Christiansson to Jessica and we struck up an interesting conversation in which we agreed that it was of mutual interest to perhaps meet again with the view to exploring a purely platonic relationship. She has been divorced for a year and a half, has a five year old child and seems to have a great deal of understanding of my situation. I gave her my number and told her to call me if she ever fancies a chat.
After work at the restaurant, I shared a couple of beers with a few of my colleagues and one of them, bizarrely also named Jessica, soon became inebriated, at which point, after flirting outrageously (she is married) with two young strangers, got in my face for the better part of ten or fifteen minutes, her cheeks brushing mine and her spit flying into my face as she delivered a diatribe on how I need to stop being sorry for myself and focus on being the great dad that she knows I am.
Holy cow, there was chemistry between us. I found myself deperately fighting off the tension between my thighs (think "semi") as she stared at me with her pretty blue eyes dancing in and out of my personal space, and her little paintbrush ponytail jogging back and forth.
I told her that if she were single, I'd probably hang out with her.
She said, "Yeah, but you know what? I wouldn't hang out with you, because you are going to be a great dad and you are a great dad, and that's what you've got to be. You have to stop being a selfish bastard and not make this all about you anymore, because in the three months I have known you at the restaurant, all I have heard you go on about is how bad things are going because your wife is leaving you. It's time to man up and suck it up!" Her cheek brushed by mine again. I could feel that dull throbbing between my thighs again. Oh crap...
No, no, no, she's married. Stop this... I can't feel anything for her. I won't feel anything for her. But she's making me feel again. I don't believe it - I'm actually feeling a touch of excitement here!
I left the bar at 0200 - closing time. Jessica kissed me on the lips, quickly, but almost with a sense of deep fondness - that's how it felt to me. I did not reciprocate. Instead I stood still for a moment, bemused, and enchanted with the realization that I am going to be okay. Then I walked to my car. I'm going to survive.
Guess I still have what it takes...
Friday, November 11, 2011
Let's Retain Our Friendship
It's 0200 (yeah that's 2 a.m.) I've been replying to Facebook messages -I was backlogged by about two months, I think - kinda like my lack of surfing lately. The heartbreak has severely reduced my appetite for writing, for surfing, for food. It's sad...
Sat and watched Hawaii 5-O with Becca tonight, whilst stripping some scrap copper wire for recycling.
"Becca," I said, "Whatever happens, let's continue to be what we are, what we always really were - friends. I care very deeply about you."
"I care deeply about you too, Steve." She replied.
I continued, "And I want you to know that if I ever make it one day, that there is nothing wrong with accepting a gift from me. I really want to do something special for you in the future, regardless of where we stand right now. Okay"
"Okay."
Sat and watched Hawaii 5-O with Becca tonight, whilst stripping some scrap copper wire for recycling.
"Becca," I said, "Whatever happens, let's continue to be what we are, what we always really were - friends. I care very deeply about you."
"I care deeply about you too, Steve." She replied.
I continued, "And I want you to know that if I ever make it one day, that there is nothing wrong with accepting a gift from me. I really want to do something special for you in the future, regardless of where we stand right now. Okay"
"Okay."
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Hanging Out With Esteban
After school last night, I decided to drop by Esteban's house and give him a small sum of money by way of thanks for putting me up for a couple of weeks and a couple of days while Becca took time to think about whether or not she wanted a divorce (even though she'd already made up her mind to go ahead with one).
Esteban was working late on a maintenance contract, painting out an apartment, and was tired and a little grumpy with having to be out so long on the job. I decided to visit him on the job and we ended up having a coffee and chatting while he finished painting. He invited me over to his place for a beer, and I ended up crashing on his couch at around 2 a.m. It was good to chat. I still have so much emotional pain, anger and shock that I am feeling in the face of what Becca is doing to me. It helps so much to be able to talk it out with a friend - someone who cares and one who understands because they too have been through divorce.
I must have had around three hours of sleep last night, so although my work day went along soundly, I am absolutely beat right now and it is only seven fifty-eight p.m.
Becca and I went to speak with our church pastor about mediation this evening, as we both respect him, and he has offered to assist us with the process. Essentially all we covered tonight is that if Becca is set on divorce, then we need to process the paperwork swiftly. I expressed my conviction that I do not agree with divorce in our case, nor do I want it, and when our pastor asked how soon we want to get things settled, I said that I would be happy to wait indefinitely if Becca felt even remotely that we had even a chance of reconciliation.
This evening she argued with me because I asked her why she wants a divorce. She said that she has already told me why so many times, and that I shouldn't have to ask. She went on to explain that she doesn't FEEL love for me and then became really annoyed when I asked, "But isn't love an act of our will, not a feeling?" She became angry and said that we have "sat under bad teaching" and that her feelings are real, and that Pastor had told me that that is part of my problem - that I "dismiss" her feelings. I went on to state that I disagree with her and wanted to know how she could possibly think that feelings were a reliable gauge of love, but before I could even finish my sentence, she threatened to walk out of the house. I then asked her if she is still a Christian, if she still feels that she is one. Again she almost walked out of the house, but I retired to my room for a minute or two and told her not to leave because of our disagreement. I decided not to ask any questions or talk with her any more tonight. Oh the frustration - I'm not allowed to discuss an opinion, because that is "manipulative" and/or convincing. I'm not allowed to plumb the depths of her reasoning, because if I do, then she feels threatened by the possibility that I might persuade her to see things differently than her feelings cause her to see.
I did show her a paragraph, (which she read), from Rabbi Schmuley Boteach's book, "Shalom in the Home", in which he states: "Lost romance can always be rediscovered because the secret to renewing love lies not in what we feel, but what we do. Actions control and create emotions, rather than the reverse. And if we begin treating people lovingly, we will begin to feel love for them."
Becca's response to the paragraph was that it is probably true, but not in certain cases.
Like ours I suppose...
I agree with Boteach. I have been doing my utmost to treat Becca lovingly, and accordingly, I feel a tremendous love for her. That it is unrequited love just hurts so much. Perhaps I should re-read the prayer of St. Francis and stop feeling so sorry for myself.
I'm so tired that my eyes feel weary, so in my bed right now. I'll read a page or two out of "A Grace Disguised" a book about dealing with loss by Jerry Sittser and then I'll pass out...
Esteban was working late on a maintenance contract, painting out an apartment, and was tired and a little grumpy with having to be out so long on the job. I decided to visit him on the job and we ended up having a coffee and chatting while he finished painting. He invited me over to his place for a beer, and I ended up crashing on his couch at around 2 a.m. It was good to chat. I still have so much emotional pain, anger and shock that I am feeling in the face of what Becca is doing to me. It helps so much to be able to talk it out with a friend - someone who cares and one who understands because they too have been through divorce.
I must have had around three hours of sleep last night, so although my work day went along soundly, I am absolutely beat right now and it is only seven fifty-eight p.m.
Becca and I went to speak with our church pastor about mediation this evening, as we both respect him, and he has offered to assist us with the process. Essentially all we covered tonight is that if Becca is set on divorce, then we need to process the paperwork swiftly. I expressed my conviction that I do not agree with divorce in our case, nor do I want it, and when our pastor asked how soon we want to get things settled, I said that I would be happy to wait indefinitely if Becca felt even remotely that we had even a chance of reconciliation.
This evening she argued with me because I asked her why she wants a divorce. She said that she has already told me why so many times, and that I shouldn't have to ask. She went on to explain that she doesn't FEEL love for me and then became really annoyed when I asked, "But isn't love an act of our will, not a feeling?" She became angry and said that we have "sat under bad teaching" and that her feelings are real, and that Pastor had told me that that is part of my problem - that I "dismiss" her feelings. I went on to state that I disagree with her and wanted to know how she could possibly think that feelings were a reliable gauge of love, but before I could even finish my sentence, she threatened to walk out of the house. I then asked her if she is still a Christian, if she still feels that she is one. Again she almost walked out of the house, but I retired to my room for a minute or two and told her not to leave because of our disagreement. I decided not to ask any questions or talk with her any more tonight. Oh the frustration - I'm not allowed to discuss an opinion, because that is "manipulative" and/or convincing. I'm not allowed to plumb the depths of her reasoning, because if I do, then she feels threatened by the possibility that I might persuade her to see things differently than her feelings cause her to see.
I did show her a paragraph, (which she read), from Rabbi Schmuley Boteach's book, "Shalom in the Home", in which he states: "Lost romance can always be rediscovered because the secret to renewing love lies not in what we feel, but what we do. Actions control and create emotions, rather than the reverse. And if we begin treating people lovingly, we will begin to feel love for them."
Becca's response to the paragraph was that it is probably true, but not in certain cases.
Like ours I suppose...
I agree with Boteach. I have been doing my utmost to treat Becca lovingly, and accordingly, I feel a tremendous love for her. That it is unrequited love just hurts so much. Perhaps I should re-read the prayer of St. Francis and stop feeling so sorry for myself.
I'm so tired that my eyes feel weary, so in my bed right now. I'll read a page or two out of "A Grace Disguised" a book about dealing with loss by Jerry Sittser and then I'll pass out...
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