I'm avoiding.
Yep, that's right. I spent last Wednesday night at my mom's, after flying in about 4 hours late from Brussels.
I asked mom a couple of months ago if I could borrow some scrapbooks, 'cause M said it'd be fun to go through our respective collective collected memorabilia some Wednesday night. But, huh, go figure, mom's in a getting-rid-of-stuff mood, and I found all the scrapbooks lined up in the guest bedroom. For evacuation. All. Every single one. For me to have. Permanently.
Now that I have them here I'm scared of 'em and I've shoved them to the end of the dining room table. I'm guessing there will be mostly pre-divorce stuff in there. Maybe it will be healthy and healing to actually walk through those memories again and claim or reclaim the parts of my life that belong to me. Maybe I'll remember why I don't talk to my dad, why I keep running from those sentences. Maybe I'll have a clearer vision of history.
Or maybe I'll have a fit and burn them. More ashes in the yard. Ashes that I didn't ask for. Fires that I start and watch and tend by myself.
Reminds me of Amy Grant talking to two pastors in her kitchen. 'Is there healing?'
You know, divorce just doesn't end. Two people who were married don't just go off and live separate lives. Especially if they have children. They can't go get lost in the crowd of humanity or the wildness of Montana. The effects echo through the years. There will be graduations and weddings and funerals and burials, if not child support and insurance issues. There will always be a reason, and there will always be effects.
In my case, it isn't the divorce that makes me angry. I am angered by the facsimile of marriage and family that continued far too long and produced enough rotten (and I mean like something that has been forgotten in the fridge, so long that you just throw the container away, as there's no good washing it) stuff to last me a lifetime. Yet I open up these books and there's a family smiling up at me.
Even though these supposedly happy moments are collected in books, I know that this is not the whole truth. This is not everything that happened.
The broken glass of the door isn't here. The witholding of love and money isn't here. The wedding ring taped to the table in anger and rejection isn't here. What were those vows again?
No wonder marriage scares me.
Is there healing? Is there?
Posted by mike at August 3, 2004 07:15 PMi don't know jeep. i will offer up prayers for you though.
this scares me, as i am watching my cousin begin the process firsthand. and she has two small children. for the next few days they will be with their dad, then on saturday they'll come back to us...back and forth, no real stability.
i am sad for all of this. why is there so much hurt?
Posted by: steph at August 4, 2004 11:58 AMWe're wondering the same thing. Why doesn't he want anything to do with us? With the kids? Was it all an act his whole life? Are we doomed to the same prideful and narcissistic tendencies? The after-effects don't go away after some end credits. AC has nightmares sometimes. We're here with you, buddy.
Posted by: B at August 5, 2004 03:13 PM