trying.
I had to go back to the house today.
I knocked on the door, because even though it’s my house, it’s not my house. Not anymore. And it’s strange, because it still looks the same. Except for a few blank spots on the walls, I mean.
And now there’s that hole in the wall, punched clean through. I remember that night; I had spent that morning and afternoon by myself at the book store in that city that has the famous horse race. Louisville, right? I just remember that’s all they talked about on their signs and their shops and their tee-shirts. It was racing and horses and horses and racing and don’t you want to send a post card home about this? Because surely there aren’t any people that do anything other than race horses in this town.
But I went to the bookstore. I piled myself up high in books that all were trying to help me save my marriage. I read one, at least, from cover to cover, willing it to make a difference. I didn’t even care that the man next to me might look at the book I was pouring over and know. This was too important to be shy about.
I had a show that night and I was dealing with this new-found anxiety on stage. I held Colt’s hand and suddenly I wasn’t acting so much anymore. I squeezed his hand because I was terrified. I didn’t know if my husband loved me anymore and this made it very difficult to sing and dance and act in front of thousands of people, actually.
After the show, all my friends went out. They ate and drank and laughed and I found an obliging park bench outside of the restaurant. I called him and he answered and could barely say two words. “What’s wrong?” I asked him. “I’m just so tired…” he told me. “Well, do you think you could wake up? I think I need you to wake up and talk to me; I’m scared tonight.” I said.
“I’m really really tired…” he said, his words starting to slur.
And then he said he was going back to sleep and that was that. And I sat on that bench and I was very alone that night. I couldn’t go back into the restaurant; I wasn’t up to it. I didn’t trust myself to arrange my features to look happy and I wasn’t okay with people knowing that I wasn’t. I called Christian and talked to him; he listened and I felt some strength from that.
The next day I called him again, asking if he was feeling better, less tired today, while I was walking in the drug store, looking for some lotion to buy. He wasn’t. Nothing helped, he said. And then he told me that he punched a hole in the wall the night before, he was so angry.
And then I made plans to come home to him shortly after.
I had read a whole book on marriage from cover to cover, after all.
Maybe that would help.
It didn’t, but I’m glad I tried.
I’ll never regret trying, at least.
in Thoughts and Feelings
as afternoon, anxiety, bench, blank spots, book store, bookstore, Colt, door, hole in the wall, home, horse, horse race, horses, house, husband, marriage, morning, park bench, post, race, race horses, restaurant, show, signs, stage, store, tee shirts, today
So sad. But you did try, so hard. Way too hard for my tastes, actually, as I unfortunately saw the writing on the wall long before you did, and I was terrified by what it said. Oh man, I still remember my and Christian’s desperate conversations about what exactly we should do, because we had a picture of your situation that was getting clearer and clearer and you simply wanted to save your marriage and the life you thought you had and the person you thought you had married. What terrible times. I still remember when some of the early terror was revealed and we talked on the phone and I said, “Do you still want to stay with him?” and your voice cracked and you said, “If he loves me, yes. I do. If he loves me.” Heartbreaking.
Yes, I had to be sure that there was nothing left. Truly. Thankfully, I did eventually become sure and that gave me the strength to walk away–but for a while, I was deluded into thinking that I could save it all. Thanks for loving me enough to be honest, but allowing me to do what I had to do, all the same. That was a horrible time, but like I said, I don’t regret trying, at least.
(I do regret not having my own bank account, though, among other things).
terrible. awful. not how wives should feel.
I don’t understand how the anger and sleepiness go together.
yes, well there is more to this story that I am omitting, out of respect for somebody. and that part of the story sort of helps make it make more sense.
and you’re right–nobody, not any human–should ever have to feel that way. I’m so grateful that I no longer do.
Jess..so heartbreaking. you did try so hard..and you were willing to do anything..you are a brave, brave woman. i am waiting with anticipation to see good and more good unfold in your life..around every turn..love you.
thank you, sarah–and there already has been so much good. it’s been huge, actually, the blessings that have come my way. surprising, and in the very best way.
Your blog today doesn’t describe the extent to which you tried and tried to save your marriage and were willing to go way beyond what most women are willing and can do. I will never forget how scared I was for you. Every day brought new information, new awareness, and we were all heartbroken. The tragic loss of a relationship with someone who was family–I can’t even begin to describe how awful that feels. It still instantly brings me to tears. I know God has good plans for you, I trust that. But to go through what you’ve gone through and you can still love life and care—it’s a miracle.
I know–that’s another thing that’s so hard…that it hurt so many people, not just me. However, I was thinking about this the other day. I’m so glad that, out of everyone in the family, this happened to me and that I am the one divorced, rather than any of my siblings. It would just be heartbreaking to think of any of them divorced now (and pretty startling if Jenna were, since she’s never even been married!)…anyway, that’s what I was thinking and that’s something else that made me grateful, though maybe it sounds strange.
It really seems like you were the one who had cause to be punching holes in walls, doesn’t it?
It’s good that you tried. Some people don’t. But I don’t have to tell you that.
punching holes in walls has never interested me, though, because it just looks like it would hurt so much. Also, if I broke my hand, that would really really suck and not be worth it at all.
I feel the same way. It must be a guy thing. Once when my mom and dad had a bad fight, he punched a hole in the door, and my brother punched a hole in the door once when he was mad at me, and our neighbor punched a hole in the wall during a fight with his wife. All good guys, but that’s how they reacted in the moment. And I know they’re good because they punched the doors/walls instead of their wives/people they were currently in a fight with, at least.
Well if it was a choice between hitting the people or the inanimate objects, then yes, they certainly made the better choice. However, I think that physical violence is probably never the best choice (I’m not talking about the good men in your life, here, though–just in general). And who in the world has ever always made the BEST choice? Just one guy I can think of, and that’s why we sing songs to him on sunday mornings (among other times).
Oh, I totally agree. I don’t think that’s the best way of channeling anger at all, but I do think it’s better than hitting a person, so I guess kudos to them on that. To my knowledge, none of them have hit anything else since then (other than my dad, in taekwondo, but he was supposed to!). I’m glad they found other things to do with their anger.
taekwondo is an awesome thing to do with anger–I channel my negative feelings by running and working out…it’s such a help. big time.
Indeed! I just push it all deep down and forget about it. That’s healthy, right?
pretty sure that’s like text-book healthy!
About punching holes in the wall: yes, a much better choice than punching a person. But research shows that this kind of violence, if unchecked, does progress. Pyschologists used to think that punching pillows when you were angry helped reduce the anger; it actually is a rehearsal for more anger–it only helps to increase the anger you already have. Meditation is a much better choice.
Interesting! Makes sense. Also – probably easier on your hands.
you did try, and you hoped, and you forgave, and you believed, and you did all that love does. i’m so sorry for all the pain, confusion, and despair. i’m so glad that you had the strength to walk away.
I am so grateful that I had the chance to walk away. I mean, I just feel like I have been given a gift–though the price was horrible, true–but I am so unbelievably thankful that I now have room in my life for truth and goodness and love and hope and that I am not being pushed and shoved in a game in which I am not in charge and I never did understand the rules.
Jessica, it is an amazing and strong thing that you did. The strength and vulnerability(does that make any sense?) that you have shown to us, and to those around you truly amazes me. You are still so encouraging, although something that discouraging happened to you. I love you, and appreciate the hugs, and the facebook wall posts. They are so unexpected, but truly appreciated. I have prayed for you a lot, and will continue to. Thank you for being you. Never change…only evolve. God Bless!
Rachel–I truly appreciate you so much. And you are such a lovely person that it is not one bit hard or a sacrifice to encourage you. You make it quite easy, my dear:) and again, you’re hair cut is rockin’!