Microcosm

My husband and I don't get along very well.

It's not the he-beats-me, or he-drinks-too-much kind of not-getting-along. It's not the big, obvious, catastrophic relationship ending kind of not-getting-along. Instead of a tsunami, it's a drip-drip-drip that gradually wears away the fabric.

This has made the troubles of our relationship difficult to assess. I remember distinctly a feeling of despair, early on in our marriage when something that happened resonated so painfully, so frequently, yet on its surface was so minor that it was not worth leaving a relationship for.

Death by a thousand paper cuts is not only painful, it doesn't garner much sympathetic support. When I leave the relationship it will appear that my hand held the knife that caused the hemorrhage.

So be it.

This marriage is perplexing because on the surface it does look whole. However, the very atoms that make it up are corrupt. This has confused me for years. When the source of trouble is not obvious, my past modus operandi was to question myself, if not outright blame. Is x bothering me because I'm too sensitive? Am I being too critical? Am I taking something too seriously? Am I focusing too much on the negative? Why can't I look at the positive? This is so insignificant. Why can't I just forget about it? I must be unforgiving. Do I do this thing too, but I'm a hypocrite and I just don't see it?

Gary returned from Asia on Saturday. He'd gone to China 10 days prior to trawl for work. He was talking with several factories about the possibility of representing them to manufacturers of luggage, packs, bags.

In his employed days he'd take his own car to the airport and leave it in the longterm lot. His company picked up the parking tab, or the taxi.

To save money I took him to the airport on the 23rd. It's a measure of the reality of our relationship that we don't part the way people who care about each other say goodbye. I suppose we could kiss, but it would be a lie, a token gesture. I wished him luck and drove off.

While gone we communicated via email. He sent a copy of the proposal he'd pitched to this company. I was impressed by its clarity, and his ability to anticipate various scenarios. Organizationally I'm not very good at that sort of thing, and I admire it as a strength in him. He is also someone who people instinctively like and trust; he's therefore a natural at sales. If there's any kind of opportunity available in this economy, he'll be able to thrive in it. I emailed him this thought. We also communicated about one area that we can usually connect around with no conflict, our love for our sons.

It wasn't lost on me, the break from the day-to-day contact, the messages where we could express appreciation with conflict filtered out, was an opportunity to have a reset of sorts. Good will had been a predominant tone--how far would it go if we could keep it going?

I have an image of one of those tilt-table marble labyrinth games. The object is to roll a marble from point a to point b along a twisty path without it dropping into one of the holes on either side of the path. You move the marble by adjusting the angle of the surface it's on. How long, how far, could good will travel before dropping into a hole?

Gary was returning on a weekend that my book reading group was going to be at the beach to choose the upcoming year's books. Ordinarily I'd go on the Friday night for the opening festivities, even though we don't actually present our books for consideration until Saturday afternoon over wine and appetizers. Gary's trip meant I'd have to miss Friday night and travel over on Saturday after I'd picked him up. His flight was to arrive at 8:30, but there was some doubt because there were typhoons in the western Pacific. Connor was spending the night at a buddy's; this meant Scott, who loves his sleep so very much, was going to have to get up early and accompany me to the airport.

I was one of the providers of the appetizers, so Friday evening was spent with me dividing my time between packing for the trip, reading reviews of the books so I could do a good job presenting them, making appetizers, grocery shopping (so there'd be food in the house and jet-lagged Gary wouldn't have to), and juggling the needs of my hyperactive younger son. I was up late Friday, and early Saturday when I realized Gary hadn't really said what time he wanted me at the airport. His last email had been Thursday, and he'd said the flight was due in at 8:30, but he didn't make a guess about how long it would take to navigate customs and luggage and so when I should be at the arrivals curb. I'd kept an eye on the website anyway since the storms had been anticipated and I'd feared a delay or cancellation. I decided to allow about a half hour and leave the house accordingly.

As usual, it was very difficult to persuade Scott to leave his nest, but we set out around 8:15. I had the cell phone, but was feeling uneasy about Gary not having one so I could call him. My doubts were stronger. We'd talked a little about the possibility of him bringing the light rail within striking distance of home. Maybe he thought we'd agreed to that. We've had miscommunications like that before. How long should I circle the pick-up area before heading for the light rail station?

So I was relieved when I saw his orange shirt and him leaning up against the wall under the awning. He tossed in his bags, greeted Scott and the dog, and climbed in the passenger seat.

"Did you have to wait very long?"

"Yes. Didn't you look at what time the flight came in?"

"... ...I did. But you didn't say what time you wanted me here, and I had to guess about how long it would take you to go through customs and get your luggage."

"My flight arrived at 8:15. Didn't I tell you to check the website in case it came early?"

"I didn't know how long customs would take."

"Customs takes 15 minutes." As if this is a fact that is common knowledge. As if everyone knows it, or should. If you drop something it falls to the ground. Duh.

"I didn't know that."

"Customs takes 15 minutes." As if somehow my knowing this now should make me responsible for knowing it earlier, retroactively.

Not a hint that he's aware that it's not rational to expect this of someone.

I felt that weird, sickening feeling inside.

For a moment I remembered the idea of clean slate, reset button, good will. I wondered if I had squandered the opportunity--one of these strange theoretical instances of 'unconscious' self-sabotage. Wouldn't the first obvious step in a challenge of keeping the good-will marble rolling be to arrive on time in picking him up? Was there something I'd missed, some obvious choice I could have/should have made to keep that volley going? Maybe I should have asked him in an earlier email what time he expected me at the airport, when he thought he could be outside.

But, he hadn't told me what he wanted, either. If it was important that he not have to wait for me for 20 minutes, wouldn't it have behooved him to specify?

How often have I had to wait for him, come to think of it, when he has had a specific time to work with. How often at this very airport (come to think of it), juggling a pile of luggage and the safety of two small, restless boys who are oblivious to people dragging luggage by, or curbs with traffic whizzing by feet away from them?

It was his total absolution of himself, and his own role in his having to wait which was at the heart of the sinking inside. Not to mention his obliviousness to what it had cost me to get there, indeed to be there.

This is the kind of thing that seems too trivial to consider divorce over. It is just one moment, one component of the billions that comprise a relationship, a marriage. However, the sickness that is in this moment is present in the others. The other moments contain this same dna, this failed chromosome. It's present in the minor interactions, and it's there in the important ones. At the heart of our moments is a failure to connect--something crucial to their successful resolution.

I realize that my attempts to understand this were like the marble in the tilting-table labyrinth too. My line of inquiry would have dropped through the hole at the very first challenge. I would have wondered if the chill that hit me from the moment he said, "yes" when I asked if he'd waited long was legitimate. I'd have wondered if I was reading too much into it. I would have told myself to cut him some slack. I would have wondered at the persistence of the feeling of despair, would have accused myself of being too sensitive. I would have wondered if it was legitimate for me to hold him responsible for having not told me when I should be there; I would have wondered if that was evading responsibility myself. I would have wondered if I was "blaming" him. I'd worry that I was making a mountain of a molehill. I'd wonder if I was dwelling on the negative.

The cumulative effect of the above paragraph would be reinforcing a belief that there was something wrong with what I was feeling in that moment when I felt my good will ebb away, and that I shouldn't be feeling it. And I suppose the purpose of that is to deny the feelings that tell me this is not good for me. The purpose of the denial is for me to stay, by undermining the feelings that tell me to go. In a curious way, this denial helps me to tolerate the poison.

And I've been doing it for years. Including before I ever knew Gary.

Dreams and musings

A week or so ago I dreamed that I was leaving Gary

and buying a house next door to a man who lived in our old neighborhood before we moved to our (now) pink house.

I'd had a short-lived crush on this married man with 3 boys a few years ago.

Last night I woke at 3 am

with a dream where I'm renewing my vows with Gary in some sort of hotel conference room. I'm in a dressing room immediately next door getting ready and Gary's mother is late. She finally arrives and is getting ready. We are polite but not warm. We've been waiting for her, but then I realize I don't have any stockings. I have the dress I was originally married in, a beautiful vintage gold dress my mother wore when she was pregnant with me, to an officer's wive's-club dance (it was not her wedding dress!), back in the mid 1950's. It's not full-length, but strikes me at mid-calf. I consider just going through the ceremony bare-legged, but I can't quite accept it. So I go to the little gift store next to the dressing room (glancing into the conference room and seeing that people have gathered and are sitting uncomfortably in the chairs. I remember the service was supposed to be at 12:30 and it's nearly 4:00, oh holy shit now it's me keeping them waiting. I'm sure there'd be nylons in the gift store, or maybe some leg make-up. I'm not finding any stockings though I do find a curious plastic envelope with something that looks like it could be stockings and some of those peculiar faux-beaded ballerina-type slippers that often go with elderly-lady robe-and-nightgown ensembles. I realize I don't have my shoes, either and so I should buy this. I ask the clerk to pull the flesh-toned stockings out just to be sure they're full-length, and it turns out they are only about shin-high. The clerk asks me if I've looked "upstairs" (is this a hotel, or a hospital?). She doesn't know if they'd carry stockings up there either.

I've had enough time to muse that the re-vowing is a mistake anyway. There's no life to it, we're just going through the motions. I really don't want to do it. It's hardly worth these machinations I'm going through of considering the various dilemmas: go upstairs in case there are stockings in that shop? But keep people waiting potentially even longer? What if I can't find that store? I'd be wasting even more time and not gaining anything. But I still can't see my going through the ceremony barelegged. Should I call the whole thing off? But these people have been waiting so long.

I wake with this dilemma and realize my dream self had not considered it a viable option to cancel. The ceremony was on a par with one of the everyday 'necessary' shams such as, "Fine, how are you?" or "I like that haircut." It was just easier to get through it, classic go-along-to-get-along.

The day that preceded this dream saw me joining two friends, Toni and Marti for breakfast. Toni is recently divorced after 23 or so years of marriage to her college sweetheart and 12 years of burning for the man who is now her boyfriend. I haven't met him, but she describes him as a man that women gravitate toward. This is a source of major anxiety for her. She's a woman who has always been envied in our group as having a perfect figure (petite height, but blessed with long, muscular legs, and, as Marti once said, "Not one speck of mis-placed fat!"). She's bearable because she herself doesn't see how gorgeous she is. Still, she's over 50, and there are many beautiful women in the world, many younger, and they all seem to find their way to her new love. So she's always in fear of losing him. We'd been deep in conversation about some serious issues Marti's been having with her husband, and her son from her first marriage when we'd arrived at the restaurant. I'd jumped out to secure us a place on the long waiting list and when I caught up with them again the conversation had switched to Toni's fears about losing Richard. That's essentially where the conversation stayed for the rest of the morning.

She no longer, at least, wears make-up to bed. But the other night she realized she'd left her curling iron at the office where she works; 9:00 at night and she decided she had to go and get it so that when the morning came she'd be able to plump up her wispy bangs before he'd see her. The office is at least a half hour away and across a toll bridge. Of course she couldn't tell him the reason for this excursion and he wasn't buying her attempts to distract him. He finally asked if she had a boyfriend there. She gave up then and didn't go. I told her I hoped she'd left him with a shadow of a doubt about whether she did.

Richard has a sister, who is married, to a man who is an education snob. It is very important to him that he went to a prestigious school, as did his wife, and Richard, and Richard's ex-girlfriend. Toni went to an "acceptable" school, for a year.

I realize I've known this woman for nearly 30 years now and I don't know what path her higher education has taken. I knew she'd met her (ex) husband in Bozeman, so I assume that she went to Montana State, since her home town's not far from there. I had no idea how long she was there, or how she'd ended up roommates in Spokane with Marti and what school they'd gone to. We'd all been out of college several years when I met them. (And we all came to Portland in the same year, late 1979 or 1980, through separate paths. It was only by coincidence that they'd met again; I'd met them through a boyfriend that was friends with them.) I do know that she graduated at the top of her class in the local community college's dental hygiene program.

But apparently this won't pass muster for Mr. BIL, who probed her credentials early on. When he heard she'd been to school in Montana he assumed that was her alma mater, and she allowed him to believe it, without baldly lying.

So she was going to be joining Richard and family at a concert in the Columbia Gorge and heard from a friend of hers she'd graduated with from the local hygienist program. Pat was going to be at the same concert, and was thrilled they'd see each other. Toni was terror-struck. Her true educational well-spring might be revealed!

I can't remember how our conversation led into this story. She may have been telling me this by way of filling in a background for some other story. I listened in disbelief as she related that she'd called Pat to tell her about Mr. BIL and to ask her to please not reveal that they had gone to the local community college together. She said, "And Pat said, 'oh Toni, that's ridiculous! You shouldn't care what that guy thinks!' " And then when they did run into each other at the concert, and Mr. BIL had asked how they knew each other, Pat had said, " 'Oh, at school' ", almost as if to emphasize it!" Toni was angry with Pat.

I can't help it; my head kind of lights up with the implications of stories like this. I was imagining that it must have felt almost like an affront to Pat; if Toni is attempting to deny her/their education as if it's something to be ashamed of, then to ask her to cooperate in its denial...well, that is a bit of a tall order. And by god, that did seem to be what Toni was asking her to do. And if Mr. BIL is this kind of education snob, my bet is that he can smell an evasion and will be hot on its trail.

So it was because I was startled and not thinking straight that I kind of burst out with, "Why don't you just disarm this weapon with the truth? Just brazen it through: 'I graduated from a community college ' ?"

"Well, he won't respect me. And I can't stand it if he doesn't respect me."

"But...then his respect for you is based on something you're not."

"Yeah. That's just what Pat said." She's shifting around in her seat now, looking in the glove box, shuffling through her purse. I can tell that Pat must have been critical, and this must have hurt her. "I can't stand it if he doesn't respect me."

"But...what's the worst that can happen if he doesn't respect you?"

"I can't stand it. I don't respect myself, and so I can't stand it if he won't respect me either."

"But..." I didn't know how to put into words the realization that she was assisting him in judging her. That she was believing herself that she was so repugnant that risking a quasi-lie and having it exposed was more acceptable then just telling the truth. "But... then you always have to live in fear."

Well, that's how I live my life, I guess." Defensive. This may have been as close to angry with me as I've ever seen her.

It's odd to me that it's easier for her to tell this truth about herself to me; that it is more important to her to maintain a false pretense and risk being called out as a fraud than to stand by a simple fact about herself. If she could say, "I went to a community college and what of it" to him in the same tone that she just said to me, "I'd rather live my life in fear because I don't respect myself--and what of it" this torment would be done.

I would have found it much more difficult to say that I didn't respect myself.

I said, "Well, I respect you. I think you're an admirable person, and a true friend with good character."

It ended there, but I was troubled for much of the rest of the day.

I was troubled that it may have seemed to her that not only was she feeling afraid, but I was telling her she was flawed for feeling afraid. It sounds like she feels flawed anyway, and I certainly didn't want to add to that. I wrote her an email to tell her that I understand that she's afraid and that I respect that she's making the best choices she can make.

When I slept on it I had the dream about renewing wedding vows. And I see some parallels. In the dream I too was going through a lot of gymnastics on behalf of the sensibilities of others. Not-going through with the ceremony seemed on a par with detailing various ailments instead of simply saying "fine" when someone asks how I am. It's allowing a fiction to continue unchallenged.

We're heading in to a holiday season again. I'd hoped to not go through another one under the pretense of us as a married couple. Parents are coming to visit under our roof. I'm not trying to promote us as a perfect couple, or even as happy. For my parents and his, status quo is more than plenty.

When I told Sharon the dream about buying the house next to the man I'd once had a crush on but had reconciled myself to the boundary that married men are entirely off limits and was glad when it had burned out--she said, "It's like there's something in you that can't quite let yourself see yourself in a different pattern yet. Even though you leave a bad pattern (marriage) in your dream, there's still a way it's perpetuated by moving next to someone unattainable. How's that for torture?"

Similarly, in my dream last night I'm about to go through with a status-quo preserving ceremony that's merely wearying everyone.

And too, I look at yesterday. I went for a later-than-I-wanted-to breakfast at a place that was farther away than I wanted to go, which was far more expensive than I wanted to spend, and took more time than I wanted to devote. Each step that I conceded made it more difficult to not concede to the next one. And this is a parallel with what my friend Toni must be facing. I wasn't trying to impress my friends that we were financially better than we are; I suppose I would have liked it if they'd been sensitive to it without me having to overtly call it out. Each stage where I didn't object added more momentum and made the next objection harder. I didn't fear they wouldn't respect me, but I did fear the discomfort of that period where several people want different things, and aren't sure how to stay present to negotiate it.

I guess my dreams, and life's synchronicities are telling me I'd better not cancel my therapy sessions yet.

A situation, a microcosm?

Sometimes it's useful to construct a small-scale model to observe its workings and gain some insights about a larger system.

I may have been presented an opportunity to do just this, in the guise of what may be a disagreement between me and my dear longtime friend M. I'm not certain yet if this is a serious disagreement or not...it depends on whatever happens next. Will she respond to me? Or not? And if she does, how will she? If it's a serious disagreement, it will be our first.

Her son, D has babysat for me for the past couple years. He is 16, and recently got his driver's license.

Earlier this summer when he was watching the boys he used Connor's mountain board (kind of an off-road skateboard) and broke it. He told Connor he would replace it.

I knew from what M had told me at one of our regular breakfasts that he had no cash and was behind in a few situations money-wise.

I figured D. and I could handle this between the two of us. I didn't want to upset M by saying he'd broken something and so was beholden to yet another person.

I resigned myself to a process that I really don't like: tracking down the warranty , making calls, getting information. Turns out Connor's board has a weight limit of 100#. So the warranty did not cover this break. I opted to buy a replacement deck from the company. It cost $60. I suggested to D that he reimburse me for half that amount, and do the labor to transfer the hardware from the broken deck onto the new one. Since I knew he didn't have cash I suggested he work it off in babysitting and figured 5-6 hours at $5/hr would take care of it. He agreed to this. I didn't ask for a full reimbursement since there wasn't anything obvious on the mountain board that warned that there was a weight maximum.

The process of all this was slow, because of my own foot-dragging to make the calls I needed to make, times where I needed to wait for return calls, and some problems with D's cell phone. At one point I wondered if maybe I should let his mom know what was going on. So I did, and she said that D had told her about it. She was fine with him working it off.

We scheduled a weekend day when Gary was going on a ski trip. However, that was the w/e that Connor got injured skateboarding and so I canceled. (Regretfully; I'd really looked forward to having that day. But some things you just can't hand off to a teenager.)

In late August Connor started football which has practice on the evenings that I see my counselor. I leave before Gary gets home from work. Connor's been able to babysit Scott for the duration of the gap before Gary arrives but with him gone, I need someone to watch Scott. I asked D if he'd want to do this regularly on Wednesdays until the end of the football season. He said he would.

So, two Wednesdays ago he came to work. I told him it might be an evening when Gary got off work early, so it could be a short night. I told him we'd just keep track of his hours and when he got to 5-6 I'd call us even and start paying him again.

So that first Wed was only an hour's work for him. After this Wed Gary said he thought D had expected to be paid. I was surprised, because I thought we'd had it understood and agreed that he not be paid til he'd put in 5 or so hours. Something made me a little uneasy about this, and so this Saturday when M & I had breakfast I told her I'd start paying him again this Wednesday. She said something that gave me a strange feeling, something about it being hard for him to have 'driven over there for just an hour.' I meant to follow it up with her there, but we got talking about other things and I forgot. So once home I sent her this message:

Hi. I'm looking around for some good links to send you.

But I also wanted to be sure that we're square about D's unpaid work. I'd just hate to think you might think we're taking advantage of him. (You probably don't, but I'd still feel better if I knew we're both on the same page about it.)

The replacement deck cost $60. I figured that it didn't make sense to make D pay for all of that because he didn't know, and anyone might have thought it was ok to use. So I figured half would settle it, and to transfer the hardware to the new deck.

I figured that would be roughly 6 hours of babysitting at $5/hr.

Then the first week Gary came home after D had only been here an hour. I was expecting this and told D we'd keep track of his hours and after 5-6 start paying him again.

D was here 3 and a half hours this last time, so he's worked 4.5 hours. I figure since he has been driving over that I'd factor that in and call us good. So I'll start paying him again this week.

I hope there weren't any misunderstandings, or D didn't feel badly about not being paid this last week.

So I'll look around for some links that I think are good places to start in looking into narcissism and get back to you on that.

Love,

Last night I got her response:

Yes, the babysitting situation is kind of delicate.  I think that board is a very bad design and is extremely vulnerable to breaking. I couldn't believe it when D brought home the broken board and I saw the design of the axel positioning.   It's a horrible design and is so prone to breaking. I guess I feel  like D has definitely done his pennance.
It was especially hard to see him having to go over for just one hour.  I wondered if the entire sentence would be served out that way.

Looking at the bigger picture...D has  felt uncomfortable about his rate for a while and we've done some research on the internet. Considering that he is providing his own transportation he wants to change his rate to $7 an hour, or $6 if you pick him up.  I think this is fair.

I respect  your wishes in whatever your choice is. And I know you respect D's need too.



My heart sank.  There was something in her tone that gave me a message that she thought I'd been unreasonable.  I felt a hole at the pit of my stomach, and thought some more about it.

I responded:

M,

Did you think it was unreasonable for me to have D reimburse me for
the board?


The board has a weight limit; I'm not sure if you knew that.  Its
maximum is 100#.  So I think the design is probably ok within that
limit.  It didn't state the limit on the board, and that's why I wasn't
going to make D pay for full price for replacing it.  It never
occurred to me that he might use it, and that's why I didn't warn him
about it beforehand.


I guess I feel  like D has definitely done his pennance.


I wasn't trying to punish D.  He broke something, and it seemed fair
to ask him to pay for it.  At the time he'd told Conrad he'd replace
it.  And since he didn't have the cash it seemed having him babysit was
a good solution.  In a way it was as if I'd advanced him some money and
he was working to earn that advance.


It was especially hard to see him having to go over for just one hour.  I wondered if the entire sentence would be served out that way. 


That particular night Gary got off early.  Some nights Gary might only be
an hour before he gets home.  Does D not want to babysit for just an
hour?  Other nights might be longer.  But D and I had agreed on 5-6
hours before we'd call the broken board good and then I'd resume paying
him.  Did it really make any difference if he did it all at once, or
over a couple times?  Did you think that was excessive and punitive in
some way?  To me 5 hours is 5 hours whether it's all at once or broken
up.


Anyway, I had been thinking it was probably time to give D a raise,
especially, like you say, when he's driving himself over.  And I also
think that $7/hr is fair, so we'll do that from now on, if he still
wants to babysit for me.  Sometimes it might just be an hour, though,
and I don't know if that's a problem.  This particular gig is just
while Conrad's in football, so it goes to the end of Oct.


More than anything else, I want you and I to be ok about this.  Your
friendship means very much to me and I don't want any shadows on it.


And I still owe you some links.


Love,




I was still perplexed over why it was so "hard" to see him come over for just an hour.  If Connor had not had the injury and D had worked it off back in July so I was paying him, he'd still have only been here an hour.  It doesn't add up that somehow this is an 'insult to injury', and that it was making him suffer unnecessarily.  I told her this in another message and suggested that if they wanted I could pay him for these past 2 Wednesdays and then have him babysit free some other time in a lump of 5 hours.


I've not heard back from her and I'm apprehensive.

I'll write more later about how this little vignette between my friend and me is a sort of microcosm of a pattern that's manifested throughout my life.