Something = not nothing

As if it were a sporting event to which we’d both purchased tickets, and I’d denied him the chance to see the big game, D. remains upset that I “forbade” him from being present at the abortion:

On Tuesday, it was completely unfair of you to not let me in that office. I had every right to be there as you did, and because you didn’t get your way you forbade me from going. Do you honestly think I would have blown up at you right there?

What he can’t seem to grasp is that no one had a “right” to be there. By virtue of circumstance, my presence was demanded; clearly no abortion would be had in my absence. I gave him every warning, every smoke signal, every humanly possible indication that, should he continue to choose to be aloof and unsupportive, he would be unwelcome in that room. And it isn’t that I was even remotely fearful he’d blow up at me; rather, I was afraid he’d continue to do just what he’d been “doing” for the previous two weeks. That is: nothing. And whether it was an unrealistic expectation or not, what I needed on Tuesday was infinitely more than nothing.

6w5d

To describe what happened today is impossible. Sum it up to love, lots of love. Love from M., who picked me up, who brought me to CVS, where I could buy pads, who drove me to the doctor, who advised me on how much Ativan to take, who sat with me in the waiting room, who held my hand through the abortion, who waited in line for my medication while I made my follow-up appointment, who drove me back to her house, who let me sleep on her $1,300-bed, who drove me to the house where my kiddos were, who stayed with me and the kiddos, who let me sleep on the couch while she watched the kiddos, who just damned loved me through the whole damned day.

It’s so cliched, but you never know who your friends are until shit hits the fan.

I’m not happy there’s shit to be hitting, but I’m infinitely grateful that the friends are coming to the surface. I love you all.

6w3d

3:36pm — D. calls, he asks how I’m doing, we chat for a bit, he says he can’t see me tonight or tomorrow but wants to drive me on Tuesday. I say that I’m not sure how I feel about him coming on Tuesday, since he hasn’t really “been there” for me. An argument ensues, he reminds me of the supposedly “mean and horrible things” I said on the phone last week (when we were talking about privacy issues), and then he hangs up.

The following text message storm ensues:

Me: That’s really crummy for you to just hang up on me like that.

D: You’re not making it easy to talk to you. I’m tired of feeling like my best isn’t good enough. I’m tired of it all and I give up.

Me: I don’t know where any of that comes from other than you. Those are your words, not mine. What doesn’t help is you hanging up and otherwise disappearing every time things don’t go the way you want them to go. What am I supposed to do right now? Sit here and pretend everything is okay and I haven’t just spent most of the past week alone? I don’t know what you expect, but it seems unfair.

D: Like I said, I give up. You don’t want me there on Tuesday? Fine. Your things will be waiting for you when you get back.

Me: I said I didn’t know yet. You’re being unreasonable. You won’t even talk to me like an adult, but you expect me to be comfortable with you there? You need to understand how difficult that is.

D: Fuck you, A. I understand plenty.

Me: Oh just stop. That’s the way I deserve to be treated? Give me a break.

D: That entire text was uncalled for on my end. Take care.

Me: I wish you would just stop worrying about past mistakes and supposed expectations and just BE the caring person we both know you are.

D: That is something you needn’t concern yourself with anymore.

Me:

And so I’m left, once again, alone. I’m not quite sure what to do, other than to stop fighting. It’s not worth it anymore.

6w0d

One phone call, two voice mail messages, and a flurry of e-mail and I’m still no closer to feeling supported by D. His message is a broken record – I can’t work on our relationship until I fix myself – followed with my constant refrain: our relationship and this situation are two independent things. My response:

It isn’t that I don’t want to give you time to get your shit together. You’re right; I’ve waited long enough, but it’s not “a fixed-up D.” I’m waiting for. I have been clear about my boundaries, and I have no doubt that I will be able to stick to them. I don’t deserve your anger or being mistreated, and that isn’t going to change any time soon. It’s unreasonable to think I should let you treat me badly for any length of time for whatever reason. That does NOT mean I don’t “want” to give you time… what it DOES mean is that “problems D. has” is a completely separate issue from “a crisis situation A. AND D. are in.”

No matter what things are going on with you that cause you to think it’s okay to react the way you do when I say things that are reasonable (that doesn’t mean you AGREE with them, just that they aren’t psychotic), that is a separate issue from me being in a situation that we BOTH contributed to and we are BOTH responsible for. I have never asked for much in that regard — all I’ve ever wanted, since the day I found out I was pregnant, was for you not to run away, for you to not leave me here to deal with this on my own. If I wanted that, I never would have told you. Somehow, though, that’s pretty much what’s happening now.

I’m really, really sorry you’re going through whatever it is you’re going through. It can’t be easy, and since I’ve been at the point in my own life where everything was falling apart because I had issues I never dealt with (childhood, trauma, loss, whatever), I can completely understand why you might feel the need to run away. But, for Pete’s sake, I am pregnant, D., and that is your responsibility as much as mine. That doesn’t mean I want to milk this situation for all I can; I’m not that kind of person. What it means is that I wish you would, just for one minute, stop focusing on how incapable you feel and just do something. Yeah, it’s hard. Yeah, it’s not what either one of us planned for. But it’s REALITY and it’s something *I* can’t run away from, and it’s pretty darn unfair that you can — and do, and have been. No matter how many ways I tell you what I need from you (simple kindness and NOT TO LEAVE ME TO DEAL WITH THIS BY MYSELF), it’s not getting through.

Like I’ve said, you have choices. You can keep being angry at me and having your anger color everything you say or do, or you can choose to be benevolent. You can keep beating yourself up for not being “enough” (whatever that is), or you can make the choice to do what you can (even though it’s scary). I am not asking you not to be weak, not to be scared, not to make mistakes. We are all human, and we ALL do those things, and expecting you to be 100% perfect is idiotic. But I do expect for love to be more than words, D.

Of course, his response was that he needs to make himself better before he can focus on our relationship, and that he doesn’t feel “comfortable” doing much for me. My response:

What you don’t seem to understand, since you keep combining the two, is that I view “working on our relationship” and “going through this SITUATION” as two completely different things. Right now, I have no desire to even think about working on our relationship; as far as I’m concerned, that’s a secondary issue, and something that’s largely out of my control, since it so highly depends on you and choices you make.

What I am talking about the past few e-mails is something along the lines of supporting a friend, “being there” for someone you care about because it’s the right thing to do, stepping up and taking responsibility for a situation you are IN with me. This isn’t something *I* am going through and need help with incidentally. This is something that is happening to *us* and I am carrying the physical burden. You might be able to walk away, but I CANNOT and I am tired of being the only one who is forced (by circumstance) to face this head-on. And in case you don’t quite know what I mean (or believe it’s some sort of Herculean effort) by “supporting a friend” or “being there for someone you care about”, here are things my friends have done over the past few days:

* called see if there was anything they could bring me to calm my stomach,
* sent me e-mails asking how I was feeling,
* sent me cards saying they were thinking of me,
* offered to watch the boys so I could rest,
* invited me to go out and see a movie to get my mind off things,
* checked in just to see if I was okay,
* gave me a hug when I was crying,
* told me it was okay to feel scared,
* listened to me,
* asked if I needed a ride to the ER,
* expressed concern over the frequency of my vomiting, and
* offered to spend the night on my couch so I didn’t feel alone.

The last thing I want to do is lay a guilt trip on you. I am offering these as things that my friends have done that have helped, things you could do that are completely independent of “working on our relationship”. That is what I meant when I made my comment about kindness and decency. It’s what I was getting at when I sent you that link of “do’s and dont’s” a couple of weeks ago — it’s because I’ve thought, all along, that you wanted to support me through this situation we are in TOGETHER, but as time goes on I don’t even get the impression that you want to be my *friend* through any of this.

I don’t mean to sound insensitive or snarky, but part of caring about someone — even just a friend — is sometimes putting aside what’s comfortable and convenient and doing what’s needed because you care. *That* is what I meant when I said love is more than words. I can’t even begin to express how painful it is that it’s been the hip mamas who have gotten me through this so far — and they don’t even have any responsibility to do so! It wouldn’t kill you to pick up the phone and ask how I’m feeling, or to offer to bring me some Gatorade, or to stop by simply to give me a hug. As much as I want to want you to be there on Tuesday, I don’t want you there unless you’re going to be supportive before and after as well. It continues to upset me that your idea of me “not having to go through this alone” involves just Tuesday, because it’s more than that.

Well, he did call, ten minutes later. That lasted about 90 seconds before it turned mean, and it was only a couple of minutes after that when he hung up on me…an act followed up with an e-mail explaining that the reason he hasn’t been calling or coming around is because he’s so angry, as evidenced by the phone call.

Meanwhile, I’m left pondering the irony. I, who have so much to be angry about, can’t seem to scream, while D. — whose anger comes out of nowhere — is left to throw fits and run away whenever he deems fit.

5w2d

The small spaces… I talk about them all the time: places where we feel empowered and fully in control of our own lives and decisions. And loved, completely and unconditionally loved. With all the chaos and unpredictability in the world and all the times when our best-laid plans go awry, it’s necessary to have small spaces, and last night I was reminded we can find them in the least likely of places. Sometimes reconnecting with an old friend is all that’s needed to feel comfort again, and sometimes sitting and talking with someone who knows just how to listen is all that is needed to feel safe to enter into the journey of making difficult choices. And to hear I’ll be proud of you no matter what from someone who’s also been the rope in a tug-of-war between someone else’s notions of right and wrong? Well, that was more than I’d asked for.

4w5 (evening)

Just as I am starting to feel as comforted this week as I felt abandoned last week, I realize I have shut down completely. I don’t feel most anything; even anger just sits there: stillborn, voiceless, disconnected from passion, in the pit of my soul. I have not laughed in 24 hours. I could cry if it didn’t feel fraudulent and hollow.

This is what I wanted, I tell myself, to feel nothing when I realized I was in this alone. Now that I am not alone, I recoil from embraces, hesitate on the precipice of kisses, screen my phone calls, ignore well wishers. Most of all D. seems a burden, someone I must tolerate because we had something I wanted before I stopped wanting anything. Today V. suggested I take another candlelit bath, force the tears, scream to Ani DiFranco at the top of my lungs. But my skin is parched from too much soaking in waters that bring no clarity, the tears refuse summoning, and I sold my Ani CDs some time ago to pay my rent.

I am reminded of Sharon Olds — “once you lose someone it is never exactly the same person who comes back” — and wonder how it is one we reconnect after loss. Even more: How can I return to the person I was ten days, two weeks, a month ago? After the pain, the abandonment, the quick and fearful realization — maybe I’ve lost him for good this time — how is it possible that a familiar embrace, the scent of our bodies, gentle kisses and hesitant touches, or anything intimate could possibly bring us back to a time when we couldn’t possibly imagine the point at which love would be painful?

I am reeling from the not-losing, wondering when I’ll recognize myself again.

4w5d (morning)

I am amazed at how much positive energy has been directed my way over the last 24 hours. If yesterday I felt alone, today I feel as though I’ve jumped off of a highwire expecting to crash but have instead found myself cradled in familiar surroundings, comforted by people who love me, protected fiercely by those who most realize my vulnerability. I am still scared. I am still reeling from the jump. I am anxious about whether I’ll survive jumps to come. For now, though, I am less damaged than I’d feared I’d have to be.

I am grateful to my friends: R., who has been drawing on her own experiences to show me there is hope; M2., for offering to go with me on June 5, and for telling me she’d support me no matter what; K., for checking in to make sure I was okay; and V., for listening when she was dealing with her own problems.

And I am grateful to D., whose break this weekend brought him to realize that he hasn’t been as supportive as he should be, for looking at me with tears in his eyes, for taking my hand in his, for listening to me, for asking what I needed from him to make it through to the other side.

Thank you all.