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marriage

and we shout at the top of our lungs

Aug 20th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
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(I recently wrote these words to a friend going through some hard times in her marriage. I cried when I wrote them. I’m crying now rereading them. I figure they are worth sharing.)

Marriage is hard. Really hard. And children make it harder.

But, then again children are hard too.

I think anything worth keeping requires some work. The natural order of the universe is chaos. If we want to keep it, we have to KEEP it. KEEP is an ACTION word.

I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m not even offering advice in that arena because I honestly don’t know ANYTHING about ANYTHING.

But I do know this: Marriage is more than “I love you”s and sweet nothings and flowers and good times. It’s more than a handsome face and a shared paycheck. It’s more than monogamy. It’s a commitment. It’s a promise to yourself. It’s a promise to another person. It’s an agreement between two people to scream at the top of their lungs:

FUCK YOU WORLD! I don’t care what you throw at me, or how hard you make this life, or what comes my way good or bad, this person and I are sticking together, hand-in-hand, through thick and thin, to make sure that, in the end, we both make it out together.

And sometimes we have it easy. Sometimes the world is so nice to us and everything goes our way and there are no trials, no doubts, no difficulties. Then there are the rest of us.

There are plenty of reasons to end a marriage. And there are plenty of reasons to stay in one. I can certainly learn a thing or two about knowing when to call it quits, because I’m the kind of guy that never gives up on anything, and that’s not exactly the way to be. But there are two things that I am unwilling to give up on:

  1. my child(ren). Never. Ever. EVER.
  2. my promises (both to myself, and to other people).

Promises are meant to be kept until they are fulfilled or until all of those affected by the promise agree to dissolve it.

You will get through this. And, in the end you will only be stronger. Both the YOU-alone you. And the YOU-together you.

If it helps any, know that you are not at all alone. I’ve talked to lots and Lots and LOTS of Moms (and Dads) about this. Something I heard over and over again is that, at this point, right at about the one year mark of your first child, it gets rough. Lots of women (and sometimes men) think about leaving at this very moment. And all of those who didn’t have told me over and over again how glad they are that they didn’t.

I hope this doesn’t come across as preaching. Because that’s not how I mean it. I’m just trying to share what I’ve learned, in the hopes that it helps you, even just a little, get through this hard time no matter how it is that you do that.

mental health, part I: a final answer

Jun 27th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
4 comments

It’s a constant state of confusion in here. In thought I go from one extreme to another and it’s often hard to sort out what’s left in the end. Sometimes, what I need is a final answer.

I’m making tea and I step on “The Foot Book” and think, I should clear this clutter. I’m checking the mail and I notice the grass growing from inside my cedar bushes and I think, I either need to pull that grass or pay someone else to do it. I sit down to enjoy my tea and write a few words and I think, I should be cleaning her playroom.

Having a high level of introspection doesn’t do any good if I can’t focus myself enough to actually draw a conclusion from it.

As soon as my little girl wakes up, though, then all that ends. I’ve learned how to give myself a task (sometimes randomly, if I’m unable to come up with a decision) and follow through with it. And I employ this as a rule whenever my daughter is awake and in my care. Otherwise, the confusion in my head only carries over to her.

Those that see me regularly and both with and without Celeste must see a strange duality in me. And now you can see it too. Fun huh?

Doing some research I found that even the lowest of the platform beds I can find hold the mattress at a height of 12″. My frame and box springs currently sit at about 14″. 2″ is not really going to make much of a difference. At least not enough to make it worth all of this trouble. So I’m either going to stick with what I have or build something of my own out of 6×6″ posts and a set of IKEA bed slats. I’m trying to find a way to mock up my plan so I can test it out before buying the material to see if it’s too low.

Sometimes, having too many options is a bad thing.

Consider the husband and wife who have no options other than one another. Due to circumstances, whatever they may be, if they separate, their happiness, stability, finances, and social standing will all be worse off apart than they are together. That couple stays together. Period. That couple makes it work. That couple figures it out. Because there’s no other place to go and all they have is each other. You throw in another option for either of those people, and the whole game changes.

All of this talk of projects reminds me of a few things. I still haven’t painted the base boards for the living room. It’s like a 30 minute job and I haven’t done it yet. I’ve been putting off doing it with Celeste around: paint, heat, manual labor, and a toddler just won’t mix well for me. I know myself well enough. And when I finally get time without her, I’m too busy with other things. Which is why the new “stay home more” plan is a really good lifestyle change. Important for sanity.

Thinking about the flooring reminds me that Costco is currently having their flooring sale again. $8 off each box, which is a really good deal. Before all of this talk of selling houses and renting houses my plan was to buy enough hard flooring to finish every surface in my house the next time it went on sale at Costco. Now I’m not sure if it’ll just go to waste. I know I need to do at least two of the rooms. So that’s a start, I guess.

Thinking of the house reminds me of the fact that I’m about a week a way from finalizing my refinance here, which might be a really bad idea. I save about $120 a month, which is awesome. And rates are going back up, so if I don’t do it now, I miss a window. But, at the same time, due to loan costs, if I try to sell this place in less than 3-4 years after refinancing, I actually end up worse than I was before, cost wise. So deciding to refinance is really like deciding to stay her for at least five years, which is the same as deciding to put Celeste in school here.

I hate my head sometimes.

And maybe renting this place out was never an option to begin with. The guy that came to see it had said he’d call yesterday to let me know what his family thought about the place. I never got a call.

Like I said, sometimes having too many options is a bad thing. My life might be easier and I might be healthier if I simply forced myself to make a choice and then stuck with it. In certain cases, reevaluation is okay after some time to make sure nothing better is being missed. And, in most cases, these choices won’t be able to walk away from me.

divorce, death, and the afterlife

Mar 25th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
6 comments

(I thought for quite some time about whether I should keep this post under my usual lock and key, filtered to only the select few. In the end, I decided it was okay to be public. The only possibly negative thing it says about Jess is that she gave up and I was willing to keep on fighting. And I don’t think that’s a secret to anyone.)

I’ve never really been a follower of Astrology — Zodiac, Chinese or otherwise, but, I can’t help but recognize the similarities between its description of me and myself.

Emotional and loving. Intuitive and imaginative. Shrewd and cautious. Protective and sympathetic. Changeable and moody. Overemotional and touchy. Clinging and unable to let go.

Divorce is something I am very not okay with. Not in general. Not for my friends. Not for my family. And certainly not for myself. Marriage is a creature unto itself. It requires nurturing, space, love, freedom, dedication, tolerance and work. And in return it provides support, security, freedom, and relief. A very fair trade in my opinion.

Divorce is not something I would have ever chosen for Jess and I. The past 3 years — at least, maybe more — have been very difficult years. Yet, for me, giving up was simply not an option. I put so much time and effort in each and every day to support my family (both chosen and blood), my wife, and my marriage. I spent every day trying to fix what was broken and enjoy what was not. I worked on new methods of communication, new balances of power, and new ways or creating space and providing freedom. When I started seeing a counselor to help reduce my frustrations, we, instead, worked on my marriage because she understood how important it was to me and how those difficulties were the primary source of my frustration. I can’t say I did everything right. I can’t say I even got close. But I know that I sacrificed more of myself than I probably should have and tried as hard as I could.

I was shocked when I learned that Jess wanted to leave me. Not because I’m the kind of guy that women don’t leave. I’m not silly enough to believe that type of person even exists. I was shocked because I had always believed that Jess shared the same dedication to our marriage that I did — and giving up simply wasn’t an option. And that, if it was an option for her, at the very least, I would have got some warning that she was considering it before she actually made a decision.

I realize now that the fact that she didn’t share that dedication might have been the reason my efforts to fix us never proved to be fruitful. Not that the problems we had were her fault and her fault alone. I’m not saying that at all. It’s just that a marriage or partnership of any kind is very much about team-work.

While we’re not all the way through this yet, I think I can see the end. It’s like we’ve been swimming upstream in a raging river, climbing rocks, dodging obstacles, and fighting the current. And finally, up ahead I can see a soft, sunny pebble beach.

Giving up has never been an option for me. But if I didn’t admit that the idea of having this come to an end was a very peaceful, comforting thought for me I’d be lying. Even under severe torture, at least in theory, suicide isn’t an option for me. Even asking for death is asking for too much. My will to survive is too strong. But if I found myself suddenly wounded, bleeding, and knowing that death was rapidly approaching, the peace and quiet and calm that would soon follow would certainly not be unwelcome. I might even die with a smile on my face despite it all.

So, in my true style, I’ve written all of this to simply say: I’m looking forward to the rest of my life. For the first time in so many years I can see a path that doesn’t end in more pain and even greater difficulty. And that brings me more comfort and peace than I can express.

In the end, I have a beautiful daughter. I have amazing friends who love and support me fully and are not afraid to call me out when they see I’ve done wrong — not because of their agendas, but because of their concern for me and our mutual goals of happiness. And I have a family (both chosen and blood) that cares for me with all of their hearts.

I marry Julie. I marry Bob.

Nov 9th, 2008
by Jim Reverend.
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Meet Julie.
Meet Bob.

I know Julie.
I know Bob.

I work with Julie.
I work with Bob.

I befriended Julie.
I befriended Bob.

I like Julie.
I like Bob.

I trust Julie.
I trust Bob.

I owe Julie.
I owe Bob.

I love Julie.
I love Bob.

I touch Julie.
I touch Bob.

I am committed to Julie.
I am committed to Bob.

I marry Julie.
I marry Bob.

None of the other words we use to describe relationships and feelings between people in the English language require a gender identifier. Why should marriage?