The Grass May Be Greener In Green Cove Springs (Separated)

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...

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.

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."

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.

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.

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...

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."

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...

Loving Unconditionally

I arrived home from work to find that Becca had very kindly turned the chicken leftovers into soup today. I told her last night that I wanted to do it then, but she insisted that it was too late for me to start cooking. What a loving thing to do, to make the soup for me, seeing as she knows how fond I am of chicken soup.

She washed and folded my laundry too, and left it neatly on my bed in the spare room.

It is strange to me that she is still willing to offer such kindness, despite her emotional coldness to me.

We don't discuss our relationship anymore, for to do so has only made her argumentative. She wants out, and that's that. Harsh.

I don't feel I know this version of Becca. Well... I have experienced a little of this behavior for very short seasons at certain points along the way of our nearly nineteen years together, but she was never this way for much longer than a couple of days at a time.

I cannot help but think of the prayer of St. Francis's, in which the saint declares:

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen

I must keep loving. I must keep doing what is right, despite the pain of unrequited love. The pain of rejection. I have not been perfect, indeed far from it, so certainly I now am reaping some of the pain I myself have sown into Becca's life. My various times of insensitivity, selfishness and unwillingness to sacrifice my desires for hers have come to haunt me now.

But I shall pardon her for all the pain she is dishing out to me. I do not wish to return evil for evil.
I shall keep loving - not so much with words as by deeds, because at my core I know that with all my heart I love Rebecca and I always shall.

Quiet in the Home

Today went by as most days ought to - routinely. Up at five a.m. Out the door fifty-five minutes later and at work thirty-five minutes after that.

I ate breakfast in my car, drank a cup of hot English tea, and listened to excerpts from the Bible on CD.

I felt confident that I'd make it throught the day.

I enjoyed learning more about reading architectural drawings and I ran a fair amount of electrical conduit.

I priced up a series of food items at Walmart later, after work.

I enjoyed my nightschool math class, most especially when I discovered that I had scored the highest preliminary test result.

I didn't talk much this evening after getting home. In fact I retired to bed early to pay some bills online and to blog a little.

Becca was impressed by my math test result. She thinks I'm smart. Great, but I wish she could love me. I love her...

Hey-ho, nevertheless, I will survive.

Friends Who Care

Over the past few months I have slowly been growing in my friendship with a pal, George, who attends the same church fellowship as I. After yesterday's service he invited me out for lunch and a trip around a local marina. We both share an interest in sailing boats and motor yachts. His wife left him for an older divorcee some years ago, so he understands keenly all the feelings of emotional destruction that I have been experiencing lately.
I talked about my plans to overnight in my car from Mondays through Thursdays, and of driving down to friends in Green Cove Springs for the weekends. George's reaction was the same that of my best local buddy Esteban - "No way. I'm not letting you. You can come and stay at my place for free."

"Dude, I have barely a few Dollars to scrape together. There is just no way I could pay you or anyone else a decent rent payment. I just don't earn enough." I explained. "So  I just refuse to be a burden."

"I don't care" He replied. "You're not sleeping in your car."

So now I have three friends close by, who will help me to survive this marital disaster. Wow, I am grateful. It is wonderful to know that there are still people out there who care about you, even though the person whom you love and used to trust the most has been praying for your death and can't wait to see the back of you.

George showed me his father's old motor yacht, which is in dire need of a total overhaul. The boat is pretty big - over forty feet long and broad in the beam. George actually lived in the old tub for six months at one stage. Despite its poor condition, the vessel's dilapidated interior evokes a pleasant feeling of nostalgia.

After walking around the marina and chatting with one of the "yachties" who welcomed me to join him for a day of sailing at any time that he goes out in his twenty-eight footer, George suggested that we go catch a movie. We enjoyed a humorous time of viewing "Tower Heist". I recommend it if you fancy a few laughs.

I paid for a couple of beers at European Street Cafe after the movie, and George and I discussed, bachelorhood, life in general and the strangeness of the way that women think and behave, and how it seems that more and more women, particularly those in their forties, are jumping on the divorce bandwagon and leaving their men.

All in all I had a great day. Initially I wanted to take my son to the park, but he was eager to play with a friend for afternoon, so Becca agreed to collect him from his friend's house at the end of the day. She was actually happy that I was having a good time. I appreciate the way she allowed me the time out.

I'm beginning to believe more and more that I'm going to be okay.

I believe that I can actually allow myself to enjoy being single again once Becca's gone. It seems almost too self-indulgent to consider it though.

After An Easygoing Day, We Fall Out

I woke up late this morning, after staying up late to complete my math assignment and blog a little.
Becca and Christiansson went out to a yard sale, and I dusted and vacuumed the house. I made scrambled eggs and pancakes for brunch when they returned, and everything went fairly well, although Becca told me that she feels that I am too intense in the way that I have transformed over the past couple of months. She said that I am so focused on being helpful and pleasant that she feels an inordinate amount of pressure on her to change her mind about divorcing me. She asked if there was any way that I could do my changing without making her feel under pressure to change her mind. I was nonplussed, and explained that I simply want to be the person that I have always longed to be, and that I am determined to make the necessary changes to my old behavior because I don't want to continue in same old way of doing things, now that I have seen some of the areas that I can work on. I explained that my actions have nothing to do with "trying to manipulate her" or make her feel guilty, but she still had trouble accepting my explanation. Aarghh! Why can't I just be allowed to be me,without constantly having my motives dissected. It is simple. I just want to change for the better, whether Becca is with me or not.

She's been needing a new pair of eye glasses for a while now, so although I have told her at least twice to go ahead and get the required prescription, she has put it off for months, because she is concerned about the expense and the fact that we are not earning much and have a significant amount of unsecured debt. I arranged for an appointment today, and insisted that she go and get the glasses, which she did, thank heavens! I was going to go with her to pay for the glasses, but as we would have to take Christiansson with us, and Becca felt that he would be bored (I think she put that idea in his head, just to stop me from going to the eye specialist with her). She told me to quit being so forceful in my desire to help.

I ended up letting her go on her own, and took our son to play with a football on the beach.
It is great hanging out with Christiansson when his mother is absent, because the relational dynamics are so much easier going. We're relaxed and we have fun. My authority is not usurped, nor is my discipline challenged. This is telling.

I noticed that Rebecca has stopped wearing her engagement and wedding rings now. That was profoundly hurtful, because she always took great care to wear them every day, and I know, from how she used to behave, that wearing them meant something very special to her. I seldom have seen her take them off, and never when she is outside of the home. But now...

Earlier this evening Becca told me that she doesn't want to attend the same church service together in the morning. She knows that enough people know what is happening to our relationship, and she doesn't want to "play happy families" anymore. She asked which service I would prefer to go to. At that point I lost my cool and said, "This is all ridiculous!"

"What's ridiculous?" She asked.

"No, I'm not even going there, I'm not going to discuss this - it'll just start an argument. I'm not going to do that." I said, with frustration.

"No, what do you mean?" Becca asked me. "What is ridiculous?"

"Oh this whole bloody idea of divorce - divorce is ridiculous, at least in this case. There's no freakin' legitimate reason for it in our situation!" I said in anger. "I mean, how can we call ourselves Christians if we're going to divorce for these ridiculous reasons?" I was outraged.

Becca became livid and said, "I'm outta here!" She slammed the front door on the way to the pickup she is borrowing from a friend and went for a drive.

I sat sullenly in front of my math assignment and stared at it and thought, God, what am I supposed to do? I just cannot agree with Becca's reasons for leaving me, yet I would not want to keep her against her will. If she refuses to love me, I cannot make her love me.

It is written: "Owe one another nothing except love." Well, I am choosing, yet again to love Becca, which to me means to do my utmost to do what is right by God and her and to pray for her.
Because my budget is so tight (my wages are $11.00 / hour), I am actually considering overnighting in my car for a few days a week and spending the weekends with a couple of friends who have offered to put me up indefinitely. They live around 45 miles away though, so I don't want to drive too much, and as I am studying a lot of material at the moment, I'd rather just be in my car and using it as an office and crash pad during the week, regardless of how outlandish it may seem to friends and family. I'll have a fixed abode in Green Cove Springs with my friends, but that doesn't mean I have to be under their feet every night. The proof will be in the pudding - whether or not I can get decent enough sleep in my car. We shall see...

A Pleasant Evening Without Arguments

Becca explained to me in detail last night why she wants to divorce me. The conversation began with her apologizing for the way things have turned out, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for things to end up this way."

Later, just prior to turning in for the night in the spare room, where I sleep, I asked Becca, "Could you perhaps write down for me what your reasons for divorce are? I know we've gone over them several times, but if I had something on paper from you, then I'll never forget and slip into a misunderstanding because of the facts becoming a foggy memory in the future.

She went on at length forcefully, but with controlled anger, and what I discerned to be pouring out of her was a profound bitterness. I don't feel that she has ever forgiven me for some of the cruel things I said, (mostly in the first few years of our marriage) - perhaps I'll cover those details later in this blog, but there were too many for me to describe at this time. Anyway, the fact is that they were pretty damning, and I came away from the conversation feeling unforgiven, but also deeply moved with compassion for Becca, for her disillusionment with me. I felt dejected and overwhelmingly penitent at my failure to cherish her in the way that she needed me to.

I can understand why she wants to leave me. I really can, it's just that she says the real reason she doesn't want to try to work things out is because it's too late. I don't subscribe to that viewpoint at all. As I see it, it is never too late for change in life until a person is dead, or totally unwilling to change. I am committed to change, and I know that Becca has seen positive change in me, consistently for the past two years, so why give up now, when I'm finally beginning to get it together?

We went to our separate beds, Becca having left a sense of finality hanging in the air, as it were, and I, like a dog with his tail between his legs. I felt like so much garbage being thrown out.

This evening was different. I brought home a rotisserie chicken and fresh bread for dinner, which Rebecca expressed her gratitude for. After supper she went out with Christiansson to visit some friends. I spent most of the evening doing my Math assignments, washing dishes and drinking hot tea.
When she returned from her visit, Becca thanked me for washing the dishes and subsequently left my laundry clean and folded on my bed. I thanked her. She actually struck up a few conversations with me and we even shared a smile and a laugh or two. She discussed some of my weak points while she watched one of her favorite TV shows, and actually apologized for offending me earlier in the conversation. She feels that I struggled to excel at high school because she thinks I was rebellious. I explained that I could't see the purpose of learning so much stuff that I had no application for. She fired back that I always think I know better than every one else, which is why I come across as condescending. I thought about this for a while and explained that I just don't trust people very easily. All in all, our conversation was helpful to me, because it wasn't a heated debate, or argument, simply a frank exposition by way of how Becca perceives my attitude to her and other people. I have never meant to project a condescending attitude to her or anyone else. I simply don't agree with everyone all of the time, but she has a point that I need to consider more carefully - that I need to speak less.

I can improve by picking my battles more carefully and being careful to listen more than I speak. This will be a challenge. I've been working on it for more than thirty years, and to think: wow, I'm still so far from the mark. God help me!

Anxious About My Future Prospects

I feel bothered tonight - much as I have been feeling, on and off for the past two months, since Becca announced her intention to leave me and process for a divorce, but other than the constant sense of emotional turmoil caused by her rejection, and the question of how our relationship came to this place of devastation what's been eating away at me today, is the daunting realization of just how many tasks that I need to complete before we separate.

Since changing my career path to engage in an electrical apprenticeship, my weekly paycheck looks lower than I have seen it look in perhaps fifteen years. I have been willing to take a massive pay cut (around fifty percent) in order to learn a trade that I believe is going to provide me with phenomenal scope for career growth and earnings in the future. I feel convinced that the next decade is going to show tremendous growth in the electrical industry. Every time I see a commercial for the new Nissan Leaf, I get excited, because I imagine a Renaissance in the way that engineers and world leaders are thinking about the use of electricity, and I see myself as a little cog within the big wheels of the machinery of change, change that is truly beneficial, change that brings hope.

But on eleven Dollars an hour, can I afford to make it through the five years of apprenticeship school, whilst paying child support to Becca and living on my own? I am anxious about my prospects. I am anxious to be able to support my son and to succeed on a career path that will offer him a better future than the present that I am living in, so I find myself entreating God daily, begging Him for wisdom so that I may make the best choices as I navigate my way through this incredibly difficult time. And so I pray, and I write and I find, as I do these things, that I have hope.

The Anatomy of a Pending Divorce

Hi folks,
My name is Steve, and this blog is an experiment in healing. Despite a
deep need to "unload", I feel extremely ambivalent about writing this,
because as I think about what is happening to my marriage, I am
jarred out of the comfortable numbness that I experience while I'm
knuckling down to my electrical work on the jobsite, when I'm
keeping busy with my studies, or doing chores around the house -
the numbness I had until a few minutes ago, before I pulled up
outside Dunkin Donuts and paid for a decaff to be dispensed into my
Starbucks travel mug - loyalty? Ah the irony...
What am I jarred into? It is the agony of rejection, almost exquisite in
its perfectly soul-destroying pain. I am still so stung by her words,
"I've never really loved you... I've been unhappy for years... I have
hoped and prayed through the years that one of us would die, just so
that I could be free..."
My first thought after hearing those words was, "W.T.F?"  I didn't say that, but maybe I should
have said it. I think of the words of Jack Rebney, "the World's Angriest
Man" of YouTube fame, and protagonist of the poignant and
touching avant garde movie "Winnebago Man", in which, effectively,
he states that it is a terrible tragedy when we feel that we are
forbidden or incapable of expressing how we REALLY feel.
Throughout the movie, the phenomenally articulate Rebney does not
hesitate to engage in the liberal use of expletives, in spite of his skill
with more socially acceptable vocabulary,  because of his
commitment to the catharsis he derives when he's just gone ahead
and cut loose roundly and soundly with an "F-bomb" or the like.
Becca and I should be happily celebrating our nineteenth anniversary
of marriage this December. Instead we are thrashing around in pre-
divorce death throes and lashing out in pain as she kills our marriage.
I keep hearing her words: "I never loved you. I wanted one of us to
die."
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck the world. Fuck it all! There I said it. Jack,
please be proud of me now, because I said it. God may be
disappointed, but I am so fucking broken right now. I gave up my life
for this girl, and now she tells me that she never loved me. Now?
What the fuck?!
How do I explain this to our beautiful son, Christiansson? How will he
ever understand that Mommy could make love to Daddy for 18
years and that he is the product of one of those beautiful sessions of
passion, but that Mommy wants Daddy to die, because she never
loved him?
Oh God, I am so very, very angry right now. I so badly want to say
every bad word I ever heard. Call Becca the worst of the worst.  I
almost want to hate her. I'm thinking, "You bitch, you ungrateful
bitch!" But, I just can't call her that, because I love her. Really, I have
never stopped loving her. That's what hurts so much - the rejection.
I've been jilted. My love is unrequited.
Schopenhauer's perspective on unrequited love, as expounded upon
in Alain de Botton's "The Consolations of Philosophy" serves only
to depress me more deeply. Grr, I AM NOT CONSOLED! I think I'll
stick with Rebney for now - at least his method allows me to feel a
measure of control.
P.O.D's "Hollywood" is playing on my stereo, as I sit with my laptop, and type in
my car. Their thrashing, searing sounds remind me of a termagant
that makes me want to dwell in the corner of a rooftop. But I love her,
I really love her...
"You'll never get the best of me!" P.O.D. sings.
That's right Becca. You'll not get the best of ME!
I will survive. I shall survive.
So there we have it. I managed to get through my first page of pain.
I've blogged it and as I have just until the end of this month left in the house
with Becca, before the lease ends on our rental home, before we
separate, my challenge to myself is going to be to make a blog entry
daily - a blow by blow account of the emotional hell that I'm going through, and
maybe,  just maybe, as I keep typing, I will start to heal.