Kate... uncensored

Intact

(Written April 2007 - previously unpublished)

I wonder if I can escape with my heart intact.

I've broken my silence by finally sharing the pain
I've broken my promise to myself
I've broken my wedding vows

I won't let this break me.  He can reject me.  He can turn away.  He can ignore me, placate me and neglect me.  I will fight.  I will not break down and be quiet.

I won't stop trying until I have to.  I will give it what I can, in case somehow, some way, I can reach him.

And I won't let his silence break my heart.
I won't let his lack of care break my heart.
I won't let his disregard for my feelings break my heart.

I won't let my disappointment break my heart.
I won't let my loneliness break my heart.

I won't let this marriage break me, I'll break it up first.

Married to a blind man

I have nothing to compare it to - never having been married to a sighted one. 

My mother, sensing a seriousness she hadn't before seen from me regarding boyfriends, approached me before I was even engaged.  Approached the topic of how tough it would be to be married to a man who was blind.  She told me she'd give me a similar speech if I were to want to marry someone of a different race or religion.  Another such speech if I were to announce that I was a lesbian.  That my choice of partner, my decision to marry this person was going to mean my life would be more difficult. 

I knew this, on some level.  But, I am headstrong.  Fuck, I am a bullhead.  I was going to love him, regardless of his disability. 

Sure, I thought about certain things.  But then there's things I started to notice later.  Things that made me mad, things that upset me, things that broke my heart.

I always had to drive, and I found that irritating, especially if we were dressed and headed somewhere formal. 

There was the obvious one, that people viewed him as "less than" and that aggravated me to no end.  I hated when waitresses asked me what he wanted.  Very often people assumed he was uneducated or unable to do simple things because he couldn't see as they could. 

His blindness affected me every time we had to ask friends to drive us home from IVF procedures because he couldn't do so.  That someone else (since there were already so many extra people involved) had to be a part of that process bothered me.

The fact that when I was sick, so violently sick, after chemo, he couldn't go out to get my scripts or to the store to buy me popsicles.

There's the obvious one everyone pointed out back then.  Him being unable to see me on my wedding day.  But it wasn't that he didn't see me all decked in white.  It was not about him not being able to see me.  It was him not being able to see me. 

Sure, you think of the benefit here - my husband could have always assumed I looked fantastic, every day, without knowing the reality.  During chemo,  when I gained weight and lost hair, he still thought I was beautiful.

But when you get dressed and he says "you look nice" because he thinks he should, (without knowing if you do look nice or if you looked like you slept in your clothes) you doubt it.  You get a certain level of validation as a woman from your partner, even if it's not progressive to admit this.  Sure, in theory, it's nice to not worry about what your hair looks like, and you can wear that old ugly but comfortable sweater without fear he'll think you look terrible in it.

But I longed to be seen.

I found myself nervous with extended eye contact.  Having abandoned it at home, it became normal for me to not have someone look at me when I spoke.  I had no problem with business settings, but friends and family who might look at me, and expect me to look back, they must have noticed.  My therapist noticed.  More than one partner noticed, as I kept my eyes closed or averted through most anything sexual.  It wasn't that I couldn't make eye contact, it was that I couldn't keep it long, as if someone would see parts of me I kept hidden.

I'm finally able to open my eyes, to connect with someone that way. I found someone I could trust enough to open up to.  Someone to look and be looked at.  To see and be seen by. 

All that's left is a band of gold... or not.

As we sat in the waiting room, paperwork filled out, anticipating the called name that would take him away for his MRI - I took his watch, his cross and held my hand out for his wedding ring.

Which he wasn't wearing.

Which I haven't noticed he hasn't been wearing.

Since July, apparently.

I reacted. Wait, forget that, I overreacted.

I asked him when he stopped wearing it and he answered. 

He started to offer some other words, but I shushed him on account of the eight or so other people in the waiting room.

They called his name and I was free of him for thirty minutes.

I used the restroom, I got a bottle of water, I returned a phone call and I paced a bit. 

Returning home, he retreated to his office to catch up on the work he missed by making the appointment.  I went into my bedroom to read and relax.  I decided to not start the conversation, I felt too emotional.  I have felt raw since Thursday and his subsequent return from out of town.  Shortly after reading I fell asleep.  I remember standing just long enough to strip and crawl back under the covers.  Next thing I knew, it was 5:30 a.m. and he was up.

Upon reflection, I think, was my reaction based on guilt?  That somehow I've not noticed his left hand?  It's amazing how you see someone everyday without seeing them.  (Yes, please feel free to insert the blind joke here)

Or is it anger?  If he has given up, enough to quit wearing his ring, why did I not know?  And if he's been done since July, then what the fuck am I still doing here?

Eating cake

I read. I ask.  I think to this nerd at heart, it makes me feel better informed.  When I went through all the infertility nonsense, I think I read any book I could find on the topic.  I amassed a collection and read whatever applied to my set of circumstances.  I joined support groups and advocated, eventually becoming so passionate about the subject that it took my ass to congress. When the cancer struck, same thing.  I was grateful to have had access to medical journals.  I probed every connection I had to find new oncologists, better treatment.  I've done this with any big thing I had to conquer, with any fascination I've had.

Makes perfect sense that my marriage would be no different.  I've devoured books on the subject.  Originally perusing through how to improve and working my way into the books meant to help you decide if divorce is the better option. But, it dawns on me, that not many marriages are like mine.  Not that I'm special, but often the case studies just don't reflect enough of my situation and I become frustrated.

I've been told by more than one helpful reader lately that I'm seeking permission to go.  I think that's very accurate.  I listen to my instincts, but they seem clouded, so I read.  Expecting to find the answer there that I'm not getting from my husband, I keep waiting.  But after searching, I discover something.  When I think about what I really want - I want to have my cake and eat it too.  One of the more annoying cliches - here it fits. 

For a good portion of last year, things were tense but pleasant.  I had enough of a marriage and enough of a sexual outlet.  I got all the things I needed, albeit from more than one place.  I realize eventually things would have run their course, but I wonder,  would staying with a lover be such a terrible thing?

(Ducking from whatever might be thrown my way)

If having an affair can make someone happier at home, should they do it?  Probably not.  They should of course explore options, etc.  I know I'm not trapped by anything but my own volition, but I feel sometimes as if I must stay.  

Just think though, that through all carefulness, you can fly below the radar.  You can avoid emotional entanglements.  My husband is not the type to grant me an open marriage.  In the conversations we've had, I'm told that if sex is that important to me, I should leave, since I won't get it here.  Essentially, in saying "sex or me" he's made the ultimate ultimatum.  But could we manage a don't ask, don't tell existence?

Until we moved here, he never asked me where I was.  Never felt the need to question who I was with or what I was doing.  I wonder if we could get there again. Could the pleasure and the knowledge of having sex accessible make this marriage good enough for now?

Could sneaking out for cake sustain me?

Men are like ovens (where else can you get such a metaphor?)

We are all so conditioned to believe that no one wants to be alone.  That ending up alone is the most terrible fate to await a person.  This may very well be true.  I can't know for sure, because the extent of the time I have spent alone is next to nil. 

I know how terrifying it is to be alone after a rape.  I know how alone I felt when I was diagnosed with cancer and my friends didn't call anymore.  I know when you're holding someone's hand, and they pass away, you feel utterly alone.  I know those kinds of alone.  I do not know what it would be like to spend the rest of my adult life alone, or lonely for that matter.  However, I am cognizant of the fact that lonely and alone are two very different animals. 

I know some people can't be alone.  I think we all know people who have one relationship after another, or people that choose someone anyone because it's better than no one.  I have never considered myself one of them. 

I realize that by leaving my husband, I may be choosing to be alone forever.  I don't know what lies ahead of me.  I would love to tell you that I had faith, or hope, that everything will somehow work out for the best, but I can't do that right now. 

I love that I have a wealth of opinions thanks to my inability to censor myself.  A good number of people have shared the idea that "something is better than nothing" when it comes to my husband.   That at least I have a husband.  At least.  Yes, I have a good man who shares his life with me.  On the surface, I see where that looks appealing. 

Please keep in mind, that he picks and chooses which parts of his life to share with me.   We share finances, a place to live, things. 

He doesn't share with me his feelings, his affection, his thoughts.  There's no shared intimacy, passion or closeness. 

The thought of  "at least you aren't alone" is no comfort when I crawl into bed and he moves so close to the edge he might fall.  (Although, sleeping alone night after night would bother me.  Once you are accustomed to another warm body, sleeping alone would probably take some getting used to) 

 "You have someone" doesn't make me feel better when I'm crying with no one to comfort me, or frustrated with no one to encourage me,  or aroused with no one to satiate me. 

I know there are a lot of jerks and assholes out there.  I know women who are married to worse men.  I know divorcing means I may end up in a situation with one of those men.  Should I stay with my husband because if I divorce I may find an unsuitable suitor?  I may never find anyone better.  Perhaps better isn't exactly what I would look for.  Do I stay because there isn't anything else available? 

If I had an oven that didn't heat up, would you tell me to keep it?  Because who knows when I could afford one.  Because, even if it can't be fixed, I did purchase the warranty.  Because I might never find an oven that got hot enough for my taste.  Because the restaurant version is out of my league anyway.

Yeah, comparing men to ovens is terrible, so forgive me; but you get the general idea.

Is a marriage, even an unfulfilling marriage, better than being alone?  That's a question, the question, I have been asking myself for months.  Apparently, I'm not the only one pondering it.  Hours browsing books on marriage have shown me that (excuse the snicker) I'm not alone.   But those books can't answer that for me.  Thousands of dollars to therapists and thousands of words here can't tell me either. 

Is the idea of being alone so frightening that people stay for that reason?  If so, I can't fault them.  I just don't think I can join them.

Love

I sit here, unable to think of a title better suited to this post.

Over the last two weeks or so, in a couple different arenas, there has been talk about my husband and I. Some have questioned whether I ever loved my husband. Others ask what it was that made me fall in love with him. There's talk of if I can possibly still love him or be in love with him.

Talk of love (and being in love) between a husband and a wife can take on many forms.  It seems to depend on who is asking and who is answering, as well as the context of the question, the length and condition of the marriage and so on.

Do I love my husband? Unequivocally, yes.

Am I in love? No. It's hard to admit that.

I met my husband and I was fascinated by him. He pursued and I resisted, unsure of what a relationship would be like with someone with a disability. Cautious because of the age difference and the fact that he was divorced.

My relationship with him was unlike the other relationships I had. Looking back, perhaps I thought different was better.

Here's something I wrote to a friend shortly after he asked me to marry him:

He is an exceptional man. He is kind and caring and considerate. He tries to make himself a better person and to better the people in his company. He loves me, unconditionally. He has embraced my family as his own, treating my sister and brother like the younger siblings he never had. He is intelligent, very able to keep up with me intellectually. He loves to read and learn. He enjoys children, he has this calm way of dealing with them that I admire. I honestly believe he will make a great father someday.  I love him. We compliment each other and we are truly a good pair.

There are many things I am able to see now, after much thought and perspective. I see that I chose a man who was quiet and calm because the men I had loved who were passionate and emotional had failed me or left me. I know that I clung to his love because I needed to be loved that much. Even if he was wrong for me, he adored me. We all crave love. We all want to be needed and wanted and loved. To have the kind of love that great stories are built around.

We're raised with these idealistic pictures of love. Fairy tales, movies, even my own parents marriage perpetuated the idea that you need an all consuming love.  I didn't think there was anyone else who would ever possibly love me as much as my husband did. In some ways, I think I still believe that. I know so many people waiting for love. Who would kill to be loved the way my husband loves me. I don't doubt and never have doubted his love. I just know he's unable to demonstrate that love, and that his version of love and mine aren't the same. Is it fair to stay when maybe someone could love each of us the way we need to be loved? Is it a sacrifice I can make, to stay simply because he loves me?

I don't know when I realized that I wasn't in love with him. I could try to point out a time when things changed, but it was subtle.

When I was going through chemo, I gave a lot of consideration to the idea that life is short. I saw how my husband had withdrawn, retreated, transformed into someone I hardly recognized. I realized that I was not okay living a life without affection, emotion, passion, or okay, lets face it, sex. I know when I started to have feelings for the Other that I couldn't be in love with him. Maybe Amber  is right. Maybe a woman in love with her man couldn't cheat on him.

I know that "love bears all things" but I wonder if there's only so much strain you can put on two people. Surely there are marriages who have endured things worse than we and come out stronger. Yet, we have only seen each obstacle damage our relationship.

I do love my husband. I love him and we were happy and in love once. Yes, the love I have now seems familiar and comfortable, it's often mixed with feelings of obligation. But, I can still think of reasons to love him.

I love him because he picked me up off the bathroom floor when I hemorrhaged and lost the first pregnancy.

I love him because he helped me scramble to start my business.

I love him because he brought my mom flowers, gave my dad his first shot, threw the football with my cousins, remembered all the aunts and uncles by voice and name the first time they met. Because he took my sister to the theater and helped build my brother's bar. Because his family is important to him.

I love him because he stopped me from breaking all our dishes the afternoon I found out our IVF was unsuccessful.

I love him because he took the job here in Nashville to try to make a better life.

I love him because has had most of the same friends for twenty, even thirty years.

I love him because even though he's blind, he doesn't let that dictate what he can and cannot do.

I love him because he came up with the idea of naming all the children embryos we lost and came up with a way to honor them.

I love him because he called our friend to get an oncologist recommendation when I was too frightened to speak.

So, when you ask why I haven't just left, why I'm not divorced already? That's why. Maybe I'm in love with memories. Maybe I'm afraid no one else will ever love me, much less the way my husband once did. Maybe I can't say goodbye to a man who loved me through hell, even if I feel I'm living there now.

When is love not enough? Love doesn't fix everything. Love may be all we need, but we need to be loved in return. Love is an action, not a statement.  "They do not love that do not show their love."

Oh, brother

Well, I spoke with my brother this week about him and his girlfriend moving to Nashville. 

Back in the end of May, the idea of him & her moving in with us temporarily was discussed briefly. My husband agreed to throw my brother some work until he found a job. His girlfriend did her research and she applied to colleges as a transfer. We hadn't heard much from them since.

Originally, when we talked about them coming here, I saw the benefits and the downfalls. I think my husband was enthusiastic because he figured if my brother and his girlfriend lived with us - I would have to stay.

They called us last week while we were in DC to let us know that she received some good financial aid packages. I was caught off guard. Mostly because I'm consumed with my own life; but partly since we hadn't talked to them in a few weeks.

I could have said yes. A part of me thought I could just let them come and see how it goes. It would be nice to have family here. I would also love to help my brother and his girlfriend make a new start. I thought about how fun it might be to have built in company.

I played it like I was giving them the option. Telling them we were having problems, letting them decide if they wanted to proceed knowing that. I also shared that the number of hours promised to my brother had dwindled. My brother talked his girlfriend out of it, as far as I can tell. I know they're disappointed, but they didn't take it as badly as I thought they would. I still feel like I've let them down.

Overwhelmingly, I knew that with them around, we'd have to go back to pretending we were fine. I don't think I can pretend anymore.

I can't sacrifice myself for everyone else. I feel like I've done that my entire life.

Where's Waldo

Today we're getting things done in order to have my husband's office up and running hopefully tomorrow, if not, then next week before we leave for Buffalo. It will be nice for him to be closer to home, but I know it's an adjustment to learn a new floor plan / office.

We're headed to a banquet tonight with the Mayor. He's presenting an award to my husband & welcoming him to a committee. I'm not fond of these events. It's awkward having no one know you, and when you enter a room with a blind person, you have the task of finding someone they need to speak with / greet without knowing anything about that person. It's like "Where's Waldo" without the striped sweater and hat.

Okay, break's over. It's back to work until I get the chance to get cleaned up for dinner.

Working from home scheme

Ha - not the kind that will have you make 80K while you sit in your pajamas. If you're seeking that, trust me you're in the wrong place. If anyone could figure out a way to make it happen, I'd be all over that. Because I like being home in my pajamas, I like making money and I like working. Just not too hard.

What I'm talking about is my husband "working" from home this week in an effort to (his words) make our relationship stronger. I really think he just wants to be out of the office while they pack up his stuff in preparation for the move from Metro Center to the Airport area.

I love my husband. These attempts of his are wearing thin. Last attempt - bringing me along on the business trip to DC. That was not a success, He gets these little schemes in his head, plotting how to "fix" everything with as little effort as possible. It's frustrating.

Really, truly, I cherish my time alone. Perhaps I sound selfish, but those hours when he's at work are my time to unwind, relax, run errands, whatever without him wondering where I am, what I'm doing, when I'll be back, etc.

Next week we're headed home for a wedding - so we'll again be spending a lot of time alone together - in the car. Can you just sense my enthusiasm?

Here's hoping that these next few days aren't too bad.

Rain, rain, go away...

I'm sitting in the window here at the Grand Hyatt, watching the intersection; watching it rain. Rain leaves me pensive. I feel like brooding a bit.

I'm supposed to be heading to lunch. I'm debating blowing it off. To be honest, the last thing I feel like is telling a stranger all about me, and having them ask questions I don't feel like answering. Now, if I could get them to spill tabloid worthy details about their boss' recent scandal - perhaps it could be interesting.

I talked to the Other last week. I'd been distancing myself from him, but it's not fair for me to stop answering the phone without some explanation. So, I opened the phone and took a deep breath. Before, I thought if I could find a way to have him not affect me, I would jump on it. I thought I could avoid him, and have him leave my periphery. I can't and don't want to. I recognize the danger he holds, and I am aware of the damage he can cause. Isn't acknowledging that something? I won't jump from the frying pan into the fire. I've taken steps to ensure that. However, I don't think I should have to completely shut him out because of the temptation.

Maybe I'm foolish. Maybe.

Before, I ran. I had a friendship with a man, and it was becoming dangerous. We got along fantastically and thoroughly understood one another. We were able to support each other through some truly terrible things. But, I sensed the change when it happened, and I didn't want it to destroy our relationship, or our relationships with other people. I could have let things run their course, but I knew there was too much at stake. So I left. We went from daily contact to nothing. I knew he was suffering, I heard it in his voice when he'd call, begging to see me or talk to me. He showed up places, trying to track me down. But I made my point clear. I didn't think it was fair to stay in contact the way we were. I knew we would have ended up in some messy situation, jeopardizing the important things in our respective lives.

It may sound stupid, but I think it was one of the smartest and bravest things I've done.

I don't feel this is the case here.

I didn't set out to have a relationship. Compared to a lot of women, I've always been good at compartmentalizing, ones that were sexual didn't have to be anything more. I don't necessarily believe that sex = love. Perhaps I'm missing that chemical reaction, I don't know. Maybe I'm jaded, or broken. I know there's something there I've never found before. I know he has a lot of the qualities I admire in a person. A lot of the qualities I've only found once before. He's given me strength at a time I felt drained by most everyone else.

It's convoluted.

I try to distract myself, thinking about other men. Remembering that he's not the "be all and end all"

I remind myself of my obligations.

I talked to someone last week I know only a bit. We were discussing separation and marriage counseling / therapy. I was asked if I can remember good times. If the person I married is still the person I want to be with. If I met my husband now, would I fall in love and want to be with him. If I believed we could make our way through this and be stronger.

I was asked if I knew what I wanted. I'm beginning to know, I just have a hard time vocalizing it, especially to my husband.

And myself.