Tough Love

Love is tough.  It’s a sentence with a double meaning, and it (love) is a double edged sword.  Love is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, and it’s the most resilient of the spiritual gifts there is.  And yes, I do believe that love is a gift.  It’s not something that everyone has or does.  I’ve heard all kinds of ministers preach about love, and they’ve called it many things. Today, I’ve been thinking about love, and all that it endures over a period of time.  I have been thinking about the love I have for my parents, my kids, and my husband.  I’ve been thinking about our marriage, and what that ceremony was about.  And I’ve been thinking about how I would handle anything that tore my vows apart.

She is a wife like me.  She loves her husband.  She believes in him.  She stood beside him through their life together.  Every decision, every thought, every plan, every dream.  She has given him her whole self.  She has surrendered her body, mind, and soul to this man she loves.  She has worked to build a home with her whole being.  She has brought babies into this world with him.  She brushes her teeth, combs her hair, dresses and smiles just like me.  But now, she’s different.  She’s been thrown into something I’m sure she never thought she’d be in.

I think about all the times my husband and I broached this topic.  As a married couple in the Navy, you don’t get to take for granted the innocence and sanctity of marriage.  So many couples divorce, struggle, and fall apart in general, that you are most likely surrounded by people who are looking for some mystic force called love.  So we did the only thing we knew to do about it, and that was talk.  We talked about what we would do, how we would act, how we would feel if one of us cheated on the other.

She is alone. Not only physically, but she is sitting alone, with no voices surrounding her. She’s reading her Bible, digging, searching, looking for answers.  She is trying to hear the guidance of wisdom.  She wants to make the right choice.  The perfect choice.  The choice that will make all the pain go away, fix her life, and set her world back on its own axis again.  He’s gone.  He won’t be back tonight, and if she’s lucky, he won’t be back tomorrow either.  But eventually, he will come home, and she will have to face what he brings with him.  She will have to face the reality that her fairy tale doesn’t have a happy ending.  Her story now looks like something out of a scandal sheet, the daily rag.  

Love is tough.  Love looks in the mirror at and smiles when there are three rolls of bags under eyes that have cried all night.  Love picks up a crying baby, when you just put her down. But you are the only parent.  Daddy is never coming home.  He’s in prison because he killed someone while driving drunk.  And so, she just keeps on going, pushing, making life as normal as possible for the situation she’s now in.
One couple has tried to begin a family.  They have had three failed attempts with assisted fertility.  None were successful.  She feels like he doesn’t love her because she can’t give him a child.  He feels worthless because he can’t get her pregnant.  Love is tough.  It’s hard to do sometimes, when you’re the only one doing all the work, when you don’t have a break, when you’re not never complimented, when sex is the ony form of affection you get, when no one asks if you are okay, if you’re happy.  Whatever the case, it’s tough.  Love is tough.  Loving another human being means that you are opening yourself up for pain.  That’s the nature of the beast that love really is.  In this post, I talked about all the things that I’ve learned about love being married so long.  And  I’m still learning.

She woke up this morning,and all was well.  She changed the baby, made breakfast and sent the kids off to school.  She got herself ready to run an errand.  Just as she’s getting ready to leave, a friend comes over to visit.  She is delayed, but enjoying time with her friend and children.  She decides to go on into town after her friend leaves, and checks her hair and makeup one more time.  Those stinking crow’s feet.  She’d use her wand to fix those later, if she could.  She loads the baby into the family vehicle, and drives into town.  There, at the entrance to the company parking lot, she sees him holding her.  She turns away.  She looks back.  She pulls in and sits along the side of the lot, just watching them.  Then she realizes that the baby is still with her.  She wipes a tear, she puts on a smile, and she drives somewhere else.  Explaining that daddy is having a working lunch, they need to find a new lunch location.  The baby smiles at her, innocently, without knowledge of the heartbreak that’s happening.  Love is tough.

What I learned after 13 years of unexplained infertility is that you never know.  Today, everything is one way, and tomorrow, it could be turned on its side, wrong side in.  That’s life.  Love is tough.  It’s tough to not know what’s going to happen every day for the rest of your life. I think the not knowing has been the most difficult part of my life.  As an adult, there is much we don’t know.  Much that is not told to us.  There’s no adult that is going to tell us the “next thing”, the right thing.   Even when I had sisters who had been through infertility, who shared with me the struggles they went through… every body, every story is different.  One of my infertility sisters struggled for seven years.  So, I convinced myself that after seven years, I would also get my miracle.  No one knows the pain that I birthed when I was still waiting at eight years and beyond.  Even when we want to be helpful by offering hope, if that hope is not delivered by a person’s expectation, we are setting them up for more hurt.  That is why I never say, “You’ll get pregnant”.  Because I can’t predict that.  It never happened for me in the time period I thought it would.  Those extra years made it very hard to live, knowing that I had no control, that I didn’t know, there were no answers.  But his love for me was tough.  It stood still when I wanted to run.  It said, “No.”  when I told him to leave.  Love is tough.

She worried that there were going to be people who would think less of him.  She worried about the kids.  Do we need to tell them?  How do we tell them?  What should I do about the kids?  She thought about the house and the yard and the car and the garage.  We just finished paying off our mortgage.  How will I make it on my own now?  What is going to happen to this house without a someone to care for it?  I’m no good at cleaning gutters or using air compressors.  I don’t even know how to check my power steering fluid. She has a million thoughts flooding through her mind.  Forget the house and the car and the garage and the yard.  What about the kids?  Who will navigate the boys through those turbulent teenage years of growing into manhood?  What kind of man will her daughters seek out if the only man they’ve ever really known turns out to be someone else?  Who will dry their tears?  Who will dry her tears?  The thoughts come from all directions, and when she calls a friend to talk, all these emotions come flooding out.  It feels unreal.  She feels like she’s telling someone else’s story, but it’s hers.  

I posted this link from Momastery, a blog I follow, on my Facebook wall, reminding my friends that this little gem of a post by Glennon is “The best advice for someone wondering whether to stay or to go.  I’m so grateful that this is not my time to wonder, and I’m praying for those whose time it is to wonder. I’m praying for you to have peace, so you can get rest, because that’s when the best decisions are made.  I’m praying for you to hear that still, small voice of wisdom , because that’s the only voice you should follow.  And I’m praying for you to have strength.  Whether your voice says to go or to stay.  It takes equal amount of energy.  Decisions are not easy for me, so I completely sympathize with any who are trying to make a huge decision like this.  Peace and love, warrior sisters!”  And from that little blurb, I received a reply that completely blew me away.  Because she responded to the points I made in the blurb with passion, and with the heart of a woman who had been there.  And she let me know that I hit something that may or may not resonate with people.

She is processing thoughts and comments made by her family and close friends.  They all tell her to be strong, to hold on.  Some say to ditch him, kick him to the curb and to tell him how awful he is.  Some tell her that this is part of life, and they can work through it.  They tell her that many people overcome infidelity, crime, and other things that life hands them, and they go on living happy lives.  But life doesn’t feel very happy right now.  In fact, life hurts right now.  Really, really bad.  She feels so alone, even though there are others around her.  She tries to list the reasons to stay, and makes a list of reasons to go.  There aren’t any great answers on either list.  Nothing jumps out as a good reason to do anything.  She just wants to crawl into bed and hide.  But those precious kids will be back from school soon, and she must put her smile back on and give them what they need when they walk in the door.  She is the only compass they have right now, and she must be strong.  Even though her knees are buckling under her.  She holds the counter for support as he walks through the door early.

You see, yesterday, when I found out about another friend of mine who has been dealt a bad hand, and another who is facing some pretty big decisions, I posted this on my personal wall, “It’s nobody’s business till it’s everybody’s business.  Feeling sad.”  Because I do feel sad.  I feel sad that everybody doesn’t get their “fairytale”.  I feel bad that things happen with choices we make that we never see coming.  And I feel disheartened when people in the public make comments which are hurtful, and are made without fully knowing how it feels to be in a particular situation.  It’s just like my infertility.  Many women are infertile.  None have been in my shoes, walking my walk.  I could never imagine the stress and pressure that comes with an infidelity, and I hope I never, ever have to find out.  But the truth is, I’ve been to the place where big, huge, important decisions have had to be made, and I wish someone would have said those things to me.  Even if they couldn’t give me the answer and the perfect advice, just knowing that I need sleep, I need to listen, and I need to save energy to expend on whichever choice I make would have been helpful.  Of course, I would probably still say something like, “Can’t you just make the decision for me?”

She looks up from the counter she is holding, she looks at the baby, playing quietly on the floor, and then she looks at him.  She thinks to herself, “This can’t really be happening.”  And then he speaks. He tells her about his wants, his needs, his desires.  He tells her that he wants to try living outside their home.  He says that he needs to see what it’s like to do this on his own.  He just took away any choices she had.  And she lifts up her hands, as if to say, “What can I do to change your mind?”  And she asks him if he is sure.  She tells him that she is willing to try all things.  Counseling, being different, making time to get away, whatever sexual needs he has, being a better wife, taking the kids more when he gets home from work, so he won’t have to listen to them.  She pleads for him to stay and try to work things out.  And then she waits for his answer.  He turns away, and walks toward their bedroom.  She calls for a sitter, to come and take the kids to the park.  They need this time alone.

We can’t walk each other’s walk.  We can only walk for ourselves.  We can’t decide for others.  Truly, we must make our own choices.  But what we can do is to sit with people and just be with them in their pain.  We can say to them, “I don’t know what you’re going through, and I don’t know what to say, but I care about you.”  We can hug them if they are huggers.  We can pray for them.  We can be honest, and tell them we don’t know how to help them, but that we’re willing.  We can clean their toilet, bring them supper, or just write a quick note.  We can show up during the hard times without offering any kind of advice or suggestions, without trying to be something awesome or saying something perfect.  A hurting person doesn’t always need to be fixed.  Sometimes a hurting person just needs to be accepted and loved exactly where they are.

Her mother comes, and takes the kids.  She tells her daughter that she will keep them overnight.  They need the time to work through this.  She kisses her babies and says goodbye.  He never returns from the bedroom.  She goes back to the bedroom and they begin a dialogue that lasts into the early morning hours.  Back and forth, they spill out all the things that have been standing between them through the years.  Back and forth, they speak and listen, giving each other the space they need to get this all out, to try to untangle the mess that has become their life.  And then they talk about the elephant.  The reason behind the cheating.  They talk about how it feels on both sides.  They are both hurting, both running, both staying, both wondering.  They decide to crash for a few hours, so that they can make more sense in the morning.  They decide to sleep in the same bed.

I have had many friends and a few family members who have been through a divorce.  It’s hard stuff.  I have had a few people ask me for advice.  I will honestly say that when I’ve given advice, it has been after much listening, and I always wonder if it was the right thing.  Of course, I try to have faith that they made the decision on their own, and their choice was not solely made on my advice.  However, I will always wonder.  I have watched as my friends, who I thought would be together forever, separated, and dissolved their marriage and divided their assets.  I have witnessed family members as their marriages ended, and not one minute of it was easy on them.  I have also questioned whether or not I could stay married.

When they wake up, they look at each other, hopeful.  They get up, shower, and meet back in the kitchen, where they continue talking over coffee.  They listen, they learn, they explore options.  This is so complicated.  They retreat into separate rooms with the goal of coming back together to speak the their separate decisions as to whether or not this marriage will continue and if not, who will move and who will stay with the children.  Time slows as they walk away.

When I was a year and a half into my marriage, alone, while Beef was on a six month deployment, I had nothing but time alone.  Living thousands of miles away from my family and his, with none of my true friends around, I thought about the fairy tale that I thought marriage was supposed to be.  I worked ten hours a day in a gas station, with several people who had been divorced.  I had romanticized what marriage should be, and being married to a sailor is nothing romantic until homecoming day.  And so, I decided that I didn’t want to live like that.  I had a friend who was willing to let me room in, and I had another job waiting for me.  But something inside me wasn’t sure.  I talked to my parents, who said that I chose that life, and I committed to it, therefore I had to honor my commitment.  I talked to my cousin, who told me that I had a good chance of living another 50 years, and to think long and hard about whether or not I wanted to spend that time with Beef.  I talked to an aunt who said that most marriages have struggles, and to think about what I was doing before I made any huge life changes.  I had a trusted friend who told me that if I was going to leave Beef, I had to do it face to face.  I had to live the remainder of the cruise without saying anything to him about my feelings, and I had to tell him a few days after he got back.  I was to go through the homecoming planning process, to be on the pier at homecoming, and to welcome him home.  Then I could tell him how I felt.  They told me that telling Beef how I felt while he was on deployment was not fair to him, and in fact, was very dangerous.  If a sailor’s mind isn’t right on a flight deck, it can be deadly.  So, I had the advice of all kinds of people, from all different age groups, and all walks of life.  I still wasn’t able to make a decision.  It took most of those six months to figure out what I was going to do.  No matter how unhappy I was with the fact that I didn’t have a “white knight” bringing me flowers, asking me what I wanted to eat, buying me jewelry, making sure I was happy all the time, something inside me did not want to leave Beef.  Some voice kept saying, “This will pass.  You are lonely.  Give it time.  You are feeling sad.  You are homesick. Give it time.”

There are no concrete answers.  No one answer is the right answer.  Both feel in this situation that whatever they choose they will hurt the other.  Compromise is unattainable.  Yet, they can not force themselves to separate.  They have something.  They feel something.  This tangle is going to take more than a day to try to figure out.  

Some marriages do not end hastily in a fit of anger, with both sides agreeing to end it.  Some marriages die slowly, quietly, one day at a time, until one day, both parties wake up and see the corpse of what used to be a live love.  They resign themselves to the inevitable, and finally, they speak the truth.  Some marriages recover.  Some people are able to rise, like a phoenix, from tragedy and turmoil and become stronger for it.  And some marriages implode. We never know how our story will end.  We never know the view at the end of the tunnel.  We can only decide to be still, to live fully for the moment we have, and to blindly take the next step.  Sometimes, we win.  Sometimes, we lose.  Love is tough.

*Please forgive the story line in italics.  It is something made up that I have collected from my years of friendships and family.  Forgive me for taking three days to birth this post.  Between my own life and taking care of the farm, and computers dying and never recovering, this has been a journey longer than I wanted.  My hope in writing this is that someone may understand that going through life, being in a marriage is not easy.  It is a lifelong journey that sometimes ends in sadness.  I hope I never have to face that sadness.  But if I do, I will remind myself that Love is Tough.*