Boundaries, Closure, and Chapters

I’ll be the first to admit that I completely suck at establishing and maintaining boundaries. If you’ve read anything having to do with my marriage and it’s ending then you’ll know this too. I would draw this line in the sand, and as soon as Beau would cross it I would just take a few steps back and redraw it. I gave ultimatums without really having the intention of following through. Even after we were divorced I let so many things slide. “All for the sake of making things work,” I’d tell myself. Then when I finally had the balls to ask him to leave, within a day, I wondered if I had been too harsh? Was there some other way for us to fix things that I hadn’t yet thought of? Maybe he had been telling the truth this time? And slowly, I’d find myself back at square one. Back to redrawing lines and letting my boundaries fade away.

When his car broke down, I let him use mine. When he needed gas I would put some in his tank. When his probation officer threatened to revoke his probation due to unpaid court/check-in fees, there I went to pay them off. When he needed to get his license reinstated and take the drivers test, I was there to let him use my car. When he needed to put his portion of the deposit down for a house that he and his “not girlfriend but totally his girlfriend” would be living in, can you guess who helped him? When the car he was using needed repairs, I got them taken care of. When he was short on first month’s rent, he came to me. And every time I went grocery shopping I would grab a few of his favorite snacks and drinks which he’d pick up after dropping Emery off. If there was a problem or something wasn’t going right he would call or text. “What do you think? What do I do?”, he’d ask. “I just need to talk to you,” he’d say.

Some of you are probably sitting there thinking, “WTF, RAQUEL?!?!” And I get it. In my measly defense, when all of this was going on I was also being given a completely different story. I guess I was partially being hopeful; partially in denial. When I told him I wasn’t buying the whole “not my girlfriend” relationship he had going on he grew upset. “Stop saying that!” he’d say in a raised voice. “She’s NOT my girlfriend,” he’d insist. He’d send me lengthy messages about how much he missed us. How he had messed up and needed to figure out what to do to make things right. He’d send me these songs and talk about how they reminded him of us. The good history. We did family dinners, and he would come over to spend time with Emery almost every afternoon. He’d take out the trash on Wednesday’s so I wouldn’t have to. He would let me know ahead of time if he would need to switch his days. He started attending Emery’s after school activities, and school programs. He’d check on the dogs when we had storms roll through and I was at work. He even mowed the yard, y’all! And you know, for the most part, we were communicating really well. So, it felt nice. Sometimes I’d catch myself thinking, “Why the hell wasn’t he like this before? It’s all I had ever asked of him.” And naturally, I felt a lot of confusion. I felt like I was stuck between holding on and permanently letting go. Prying my fingers off slowly; one at a time. But you can only stay stuck in place for so long. Eventually, everything around you starts moving forward whether you want it to or not. And then your eyes begin to focus. 

Just like with everything else that’s new, the shimmer fades, and you start to see things for what they really are. This wasn’t some miracle of having my family put back together. I get that some change is being attempted on his end, and I’m grateful for that. Super fucking grateful. But you can’t have one foot in and the other out. You can’t live out both lives until you’ve “figured things out”. That’s not fair to anyone involved in the situation. So, on the day before he left out of state, I decided that I needed to be clear about the boundaries I felt that I needed in my life. Not for him. Not for my daughter. FOR ME. And I laid it all out: Don’t come over without calling first. He and his girlfriend needed to do their laundry elsewhere. No one was allowed at my house during drop off/pick up unless I had okayed it. Otherwise, we could start doing exchanges in front of the police department. I don’t want to be contacted for any more favors. He and his girlfriend needed to start figuring out the solutions to problems on their own. Making sure everything was okay for him was no longer my responsibility. Unless it's  1) an emergency or 2) has to do with Emery then I don’t want to hear about it. I don't want any more songs or late night paragraphs claiming that he “missed” me being sent to my phone. And once he was back from working out of state I wanted us to stick with the visitation schedule as best as we could. It was officially time for him to start figuring things out for himself. 

After I was done stating my needs I asked that he respect my wishes, and so far he has. The majority of things have been going rather smoothly. I can tell that I’m finally dusting myself off and moving forward with my own life. And now the sting in my heart is starting to lessen with each passing day. It's becoming easier to breathe around him when he has to come over on his days. Easier to be in his presence and not feel like I'm still grieving this huge loss. Of course, there have been a few tough moments here and there. There have been days of weakness where I wanted to have myself a good cry. Days when the memories hit so hard that I lose my breath. Times when I doubt myself. Doubt my own worth. But then, there are the moments when I get so angry at him that I want to scream, “Fuck you for hurting me. Fuck you for lying. Fuck you for being so awful to me. Fuck you for not wanting me. Fuck you for making me lose myself. Fuck you for always wanting what was on the other side and not tending to us. Fuck you for making me feel invisible and unlovable. And fuck you for not seeing ME as ENOUGH.” But I bite my tongue. I push the words back down my throat because it doesn't even matter anymore. There were several times when I could have been petty as hell about certain things. I could have made things extremely difficult for him. I could have shown his girlfriend the texts I was getting. Could have caused a scene. I could have plastered all of the dirt for his entire family to see the truth rather than allow for everything to be blamed on me. But I could never bring myself to do it. Even after everything, I could never, ever, hurt him like that. And I hope that one day he truly sees that for what it is. Sees that my love was still right there to the very end. No hate in my heart. 

One afternoon, when I was scolding myself for not willingly using the ammunition I had to my advantage, a good friend of mine asked, "Okay. But what would you gain?" I looked over at them surprised and answered, “What do you mean, what would I gain? It would make me feel better!” He looked over, “Yea, but for how long? Would it change your situation? Would it change him?” I sat there for a few moments letting his words sink in. And of course, he was right. Sure I may get a bit of satisfaction at first. But then what? I’d feel horrible. There would be more turmoil. I’d be turning into someone that I didn’t respect. And it wouldn’t change a damn thing. So, instead, I chose kindness. I chose to accept an apology I would never get; no matter how much I felt that I needed it. Instead, I chose to feel the heartache, the pain, and to slowly work through my emotions. I chose to finally be firm with the boundaries I had put in place. No more redrawing lines, no more ultimatums, and no more letting things slide. It was finally time for me to let go. It was time for this chapter to finally come to a close.  

Control

I have no idea how I ever let things get as bad as they did. Or have. I've come up with excuses like: "Love", "Duties", "Marriage", "Friendship", and "Anger". I've told myself countless times that they're just words. Sometimes they're necessary. They allow you to become thick skinned. They usually mean nothing to me because the person's opinion, who spews the hurtful words at me, doesn't matter. Doesn't affect me. "No skin off my nose," I say. But sometimes it's a bit jarring when the words come from someone you care about. Someone who you trust with your heart. It can feel a lot like sticking your hands into iced water. Sometimes that hurt causes you to crack. You feel deserving of that treatment. Of those words. Because here stands a person who holds your trust, and they wouldn't be breaking you down like this if it wasn't deserved, would they? And each time it happens, each time something is said, it feels like you're running your heart over splinters.

If you've been here with me for awhile, you know that it's been one hell of a year. You know how devastated I was. How awful I felt about the state of my marriage. You know about what I went through. And I've even given a few examples of the colorful words I had yelled at me repeatedly before. Y'all know. So when I started counseling, and my counselor told me that it was a form of abuse I just brushed it off. "They're just words Drew," I would say when he'd suggest it. My husband didn't mean what he was saying. He was just angry. He was just lashing out. He wasn't himself. Then I wrote this post about taking responsibility for your actions, and how some people would weigh in on the matter by dismissing what he had done (physically) on the grounds that he was not sober. My response was usually along the lines of "Well, now wait, that still doesn't make it okay. Maybe easier to forgive, but not okay." So why in the world was I making excuses for the verbal insults? You see, what I didn't mention then is how that particular treatment never stopped. How even sober those words would still get used. Before the separation, and even after we decided to try working through things. Maybe it wasn't as frequent as before. Maybe there were apologies given afterwards. But it never fully stopped. 

I can sit here, and make excuses until I'm blue in the face. I can sit here, and turn a blind eye like I've always done in the past. I can sit here, and proclaim love as the reason for why I tolerate it. Some would agree that I'm doing the right thing by working through this while others would want to shake me as they simultaneously tell me to run. "Go! Get away. Why would you put up with this?" And the honest to God truth is that I have no idea yet. Subconsciously, somewhere buried really fucking deep, is the answer. But I haven't dug far enough down to figure it out. I have no idea why I allow myself to stay rooted. I have no idea why the thought of ending my marriage left me so paralyzed with fear in the past. Or why I tell myself on the bad days that I'm trying for a reason: to make things work, and that won't happen overnight. I have no idea why I don't stand up for myself, or when I finally feel like I should raise my voice and yell "ENOUGH!" I bite my tongue instead. I bite down so hard in order to keep the words from spilling out, and I just let them sink into my bones. It's not because I wouldn't have a place to go, or a way to provide for myself and my daughter. I have both of those things. It's not because I feel that I deserve the treatment. I don't, and I know it. It's not because I view this as what love should be like. My parents taught me what love is supposed to be like, and it looks nothing like my relationship. So what then?

In my last session, my counselor told me it was a form of addiction. The way other people become addicted to drugs, alcohol, or pornography I've become attached to my spouse in the same way. I do not know how to separate him from me. For some reason my brain has rationalized that this is normal. I don't view it the same as physical abuse when it comes to my situation. That "thick skin" of mine allows me to dismiss what is being said just by rolling my eyes, and shoving it into a mental file box to be dealt with later. When it comes to others though it's a different story. In fact, I would be right there with everyone else telling the person in a similar situation as mine to "RUN. Go! Don't let them tear you apart like this!" But my blinders are on when it comes to myself. However, I've come to realize that my husband uses this behavior as a way to keep some form of power when he feels out of control. He uses this as a way to constantly remind me of my shortcomings so that he's not the only one to blame for things. When he says that I don't try enough, or do enough it's really about him. Not me. When he calls me names, or insults me it's about him needing to reassure himself that I am the problem. I am the person acting a certain way and if I would just stop he wouldn't have to call me names, or yell. Afterall, I should just be grateful that he came back right? Because I'm not enough for anyone else. Because I am difficult. I am boring. Because I don't "get over" things. Those are all the reasons I believe he chooses to look at in order to justify his need for me to be the submissive one. It wasn't until a few weeks ago when I was being called a "BITCH", and being told to "FUCK OFF" out of anger because I wasn't able to come up with a solution to a problem in time that it hit me.

I do not value myself. 

I put everyone else, and their well-being before my own. When it came to my spouse I still viewed him as being more important. I think I've said it before that I tiptoe around him. I try not to set him off for fear that he'll relapse, or that he'll stray again. I watch what I say because I don't want him to be angry. I have this knee jerk reaction to protect him too. I accept blame for things that I shouldn't. I am constantly wanting to make his life easier. I put the responsibility of keeping him content before all. Even before my daughter if I'm being honest. I allow her to hear his insults. I allow her to see me bending over backwards for a man who may not always deserve it. I allow her to see his outburst, and my attempts to defuse them. And even though my brain tells me that it's not right. That she shouldn't see this as normal. That I don't want that for her. I stay with my feet planted in that house. Oh, how it drives me up the wall that I allow this! That I easily dismiss this kind of behavior because it doesn't happen often. I'm ashamed of that. I'm so angry with myself for feeling defenseless when I know damn well I have power. I can have control too. I could finally speak up, and say "THAT'S ENOUGH!" I could put my foot down, and tell him to start playing by the rules we agreed to in the first place, or he can get the fuck out. I could walk out that damn door right now with our daughter at my side, and we'd be okay. I could move on from this, and live a good life without him in it. I know all of this. I was on the verge of doing all of this. And yet...I don't. I sit there with my hands in my lap, eyes on the floor, and my tongue between my teeth. I allow it.  

Here's A Post From My Drafts

Today something clicked. Something snapped, almost like a rubber band that's being stretched out too far, and I felt so incredibly naive. I knew that everything going on was because of me, and not in the way that you're probably thinking. Still, I'm at fault for something. Something that has the potential to tip me over.  I'll write about it later. I'll post about it later. But I went through my drafts for some inspiration, or maybe just to read some words that I had started but never published. I came across this post from last month. For some reason or another I didn't hit publish. 

I remember exactly how I felt that day. I recall exactly what happened too. My confusion was at an all time high that day. My emotions were all over the place. I remember the adrenaline pumping through my body. The event that took place, should have been a wake up call for me, but it took only a few hours for me to dismiss it. I can say that once the day had passed I was closer to seeing that "line drawn in the sand" more clearly though. I was pretty close to understanding what I ended up realizing today, but obviously I just wasn't ready to push myself in order to get there. Today however I am so many things all at once. It all came crashing down. It was everything I felt on that day last month, and then some.

Something in my head clicked over today. It's caused me to question so much. It feels like I'm having a lot of thoughts, and emotions shoved inside of me, and then being told to figure out why they were all put there. I need to dissect the feelings that are associated with each of the questions I'm asking myself with an overwhelming amount of truth, and honesty because that's the ONLY way to get anywhere.  But the thoughts aren't in order. It's all really random right now. It's fresh, and raw. Jumbled. How I feel right now may change in the next second. So I can't write about that now. Not until I'm sure. Not until I know. So instead, I'm giving you this. A half finished post about wishing that I had no free will because that would make life easier, and at that very moment easy was what I needed. And today, in a really intense moment of anxiety, I kind of wished for the same. 

Well...

I still haven't decided what I'll be doing with this blog in regards to direction, change, or deletion. I also know that in my last post I stated that I wanted to focus more on positive things, but life doesn't always work like that. So, I'm still undecided about the future of my little ocean. Until then, I guess you guys will have to deal with (or skip) whatever word vomit I let come out. And I'm apologizing in advance because this one is all over the place today.

Recently, my heart and mind have been going against each other. It's left me with a lot of confusion. A lot to think about, and even more to work through. I hate feeling like this. My counselor told me that in some ways I seem to be reverting back into how I was before. Not necessarily in a bad way, or wrong way...just that it's happening. We've decided on an "every other week" schedule so he can get a better "look" at what might be behind all of this. I left my last session feeling pretty optimistic though. And since then I've been doing a lot of thinking about what's ahead. 

There's a lot about commitment and love that some people don't get. One of the things that was said recently was "it's not cheating if you weren't together". I disagreed. Because to me, until the ink has dried on a stack of divorce papers, you are still married. You should still continue to have respect for your spouse because they are still your spouse. My husband did not do that. And a lot of people say things like, "Well it was the drugs, and alcohol." Others say things like "He wasn't in his right mind, he didn't know any better." However, there's something to be said about making those choices in the first place. There's something to be said about the disrespect towards me that was shown repeatedly. Shouldn't we all take responsibility for what we say and do? Isn't that the whole point? To take ownership of our actions. So why do some people get a pass? Why can some people hurt others, and it be completely dismissed? They become the victim, and you just become the bitter party that "can't let go and forgive." But why? When presented with the question "When everything is said and done, what do you want to come out of all of this?" These were just some of the things that I started to recall and think about. I started to question what kind of relationship I wanted. What kind of relationship I needed to have with myself, as well. And so far, everything has just been this jumbled mess of emotions that I'm slowly making my way through. My ideas of love and commitment are still just as strong as they were before. Only now, it seems that my trust in those two things coming from others has been slightly tainted.

Another issue from before that's fresh in my mind today is the name calling. Throughout this whole ordeal I was being told that I was horrible. That I was not wanted. That I was disgusting. That I was being called names because I was deserving of them. And when it came to others addressing me with those same terms, it was almost encouraged. Justified. And lately, I've been trying to understand why I ever allowed it. Why did I cower? Why did I take it all. My self respect, in the eyes of others, was always something that I held up high. It was something that older friends loved about me, and I was respected for. But when it came to him, I just let him treat me however he saw fit. I let it continue. I allowed my daughter to see it. I allowed my daughter to hear it. I allowed my self-respect to continuously be battered. I felt like I was deserving of it all. However, recently I started to look at my situation through the eyes of a parent. How would I feel if my baby girl allowed someone to speak to her, or treat her in the same manner? Would it ever be okay? Would I ever want her to grow up thinking that this is what love looked like?

No.

So why did I allow that to be my reality. Why did I allow myself to think that I was not worth more? I know that my husband has changed. I know that he's made some progress in certain areas. I know that he is trying in the only way he knows how. I know that he is not, nor will he ever be, perfect. I'm not either, and I don't claim to be. My issues are a mile long, and I'm barely addressing the beginning. But some food for thought was given to me recently, and it went along the lines of:

"Every addict, regardless of the addiction, does not get better after their first try. This is something that they will battle every day. And sometimes...the people around them, no matter how much they think they are helping, are only enabling them. We become a crutch for them, and this becomes the only reason why they tell us what we want to hear. Sometimes, we allow those habits to continue and we allow them to go back to old ways because we think that they're allowed to mess up. They're allowed to hurt us because of their disease. And so, the cycles continue until that person is truly ready to make the change. To let go. No matter how badly we want things to turn out a certain way for them because we love them, it's not up to us. It's up to them. Only then, will it get better."  

I know what my vows are. For better or worse. I took those. I meant them with everything inside of me. I stood by my husband, even during the affairs, ready to give things another try. My end goal was to keep my family together. EVEN when I was being told that I wasn't loved. That I wasn't wanted. What I always hoped for was to keep my family. To love this man, despite everything, because he was my person. And even though he didn't always realize it, I would always be there for him. But at what cost? Becoming a crutch. Am I enabling him by continuously allowing him to dismiss what he did? By making up excuses? By allowing myself to be treated horribly on the "bad days"? When do you say, "That's it...I can't do this anymore. I love you, but I can't do this anymore." At what point can you truly let go of the person you thought you would be with for the rest of your life because you were holding them back, and they were dragging you down? At what point?