Divorced

1. Sad but cool fact about my husband; he's in that odd upper echelon of intelligence and will not allow me to people share what his IQ is.

2. Just as Jennifer Connnelley's character in A Beautiful Mind struggled for years over what to do with her highly evolved yet barely functioning spouse, these have been my struggles for years as well. I have watched my husband not make the "popular, eating lunch together crowd" where he worked as minimum wage cashier. I have also seen him have profound conversations with janitors, key copiers and waitresss...usually when he was late to another meeting.

3. Besides working in jobs that were beneath him, he was too scared for apply to jobs in his pay range. Afte he quit cashiering, he simply surfed the internet for the next year and a half.

4. Most of my stress has come from either denying the situation or thinking that he would change. I wanted to be a stay at home mom, but over time I grudgingly returned to full time employment so that we would have health insurance.

5. Now he's had a 15 month long taste of being the stay at home parent and doesn' t like it. He was ranting and raving about how long he spent cleaning today

BUT THEN

He told me that HE felt forced into being a stay at home dad because he thought that the housee would never get cleaned properly without his doing it. I gave him many opportunies to soften his message, but it stands. Basically, even though I dream of being an at home parent and his profession is higher paying than mine, he says he needs to stay at home or the house will always be a pig sty.

I can't express how mad and heartbroken I am. I am actuallly considering divorce. That's how much of his view means to me.

Alone With Him In The Human World

On Sunday I left the house in a rage (my back being full of steroids from the nerve block), and my intention was to take a short walk and invite Jesus to be with me. I could feel the impact of my steps on the concrete sidewalk in my sore back, and I didn't feel my anxiety dissipate.

I tried to focus on Jesus' presence. I didn't feel alone, but I felt alone with him in the human world. Thud, thud, thud. He was with me as I walked, but what did that mean, I wondered. I don't remember what I said to him or asked him, but I think I asked him how much more suffering he's going to give me and if he's going to rescue me any time soon. I think I told him that my life feels like something I can't survive - the physical problems, the tense marriage, the surgery my husband wants to get with all of this going on, the financial fears - and I asked if he was going to help.

There have been times when it's been really, really hard, and it's seemed like he hasn't helped. Even looking back, I haven't been able to see the help. Maybe because for years I feel like I've been underneath an avalanche, and I haven't been lifted out yet.

Today I realized what my dream job (second to novelist) is: internal corporate communications specialist. That's what I'm already doing at the faith-based clinic I work for; it's just not reflected in my title. I realized that I want to get my Master of Arts in Organizational Communication and work for companies trying to make sure the left hand knows what the right hand is doing. I want this more than every other professional job I've ever considered. My current job has shown me that this is where my flair is, and I want to pursue it.

On some days, I'm in too much pain to get dressed. Go to school? Apply for a new job? I can't think past lunchtime.

What will happen to me, Lord? Is this going to let up? If it doesn't, I can't even write a freaking book about it not letting up because of the pain. I'm starting to regret my 13 years without alcohol. Not really, but Jesus - please. Please grasp my frustration with all of this.

Alone with you, God, in the human world. What will I be doing 6 months from now? I really don't know. I love you. It's crazy, crazy love.

Things I'll Do If I Get My Old Body Back

1. Write a book. I won't be such a perfectionist, and I won't write it for anyone but me. But I'll finally write it - something I've been planning on doing for 25 years.

2. Throw away clutter with glee. 3 months ago this would have been a chore. Now it's something that aggravates my neck. I long to do it, but I either can't or know that I will have rebound pain. An odious task has become a privilege.

3. Journal even more than I had been doing. The pen in my hand was like an ignition that took me to God. I will journal every 30 minutes if I want to and won't feel guilty.

4. Put a sound system in my car and take joy rides.

5. Invite more of my children's friends over and not obsess so much about whether the house is clean enough. I can truly understand "good enough" now.

6. Use the public library more and read all of the time. There is so much good writing out there that I can't take advantage of now.

7. Go to 4-5 Twelve Step meetings a week. I already knew I loved them. The hole I've been feeling is painful.

8. Go to church. I love my relgion but have never really enjoyed hour-long services. Still, that's another piece of me that's gone right now.

9. Write freelance articles. It never hurts to try.

10. Buy healthier groceries. My dear husband is buying me groceries that cause me to gain weight. I never thought I would miss going to the grocery store.

11. Fold laundry lickety-split and get it out of my hair. Why did I procrastinate about this? Why did I let it pile up when I wasn't in pain? I don't understand this. I would love to tackle laundry right now if it didn't hurt.

12. Be grateful every day if I don't hurt.

13. Enjoy my children more. I loved them, but was I enjoying them? I didn't realize how many options a healthy body gave me. If I hear, "Mommy's hurting today," one more time I feel like I'll scream.

14. Be a better listener. Talking so much about myself has helped me to realize how much I was already talking about myself. The small stuff really isn't worth talking about. I know that now.

15. Care about my husband's day. Right now I have to pretend I care. There was a time when I really could have cared because I wasn't disabled by pain. I don't know how much I can work on overcoming my self-absorption as I face a life-changing set of physical problems. But when things are returned to a state of normalcy, I am going to take a huge interest in his day-in and day-out experiences. I can't wait.

16. Laugh at myself more.

I write this knowing full well that if I'm healed, I won't do all of this. But this experience has changed my life forever. As a thirtysomething, I had been taking "feeling decent" for granted. I've done a 180 degree turn. I also write this knowing that some of it (such as getting out of my self-centeredness) can be tackled now. Baby steps.

Take away my pain and stiffness, Jesus. As you like, when you like, if you like. I've learned a lot; I know you can see that.

Still Here

I am still here, but my computer time is very limited to due to my neck and upper back pain.

I don't know why God has let me be afflicted with an ailment that affects my spirituality and my attempts be a written expression of his glory. Maybe I'll know someday.

I am still here. I hurt, I stiffen to the point of worthlessness, and I wait. I had a nerve block with trigger point injections on Friday. Please pray that the procedure accomplishes the Father's will for me. Prayers for all of my loved ones and readers.

Leave Now

Yesterday as I was leaving the office I had a feeling that some sort of unspeakable violence was looming. I saw images of blood. In my stomach I felt that there was deep, dangerous anger threatening people I loved.

I wanted to call my husband to check on him and my daughters, but I had a very urgent need to put gas in the car. It was 20 degrees, and for several miles my car had gone past being empty. I put aside my hazy feeling of danger and pulled into the gas station around the corner from my job.

As I was backing my car into the right position for a fuel pump, a man came out of nowhere and sped right behind me, stealing my place. I could not back up anymore, and my car was too far away from the hose. There were plenty of other vacant fuel pumps. There was no reason for him to have sped up to the one I was getting ready to use and take it. But that's what he had done.

I was startled and waited for a moment. There were a lot of vacant fuel pumps, but there were also a lot of customers around, emboldening me. Neither the man nor I got out of our cars. I thought about getting out of the car and trying to stretch the hose as far as it would go. I thought about getting out of the car and glaring at him. I was in a public place. I opened my door, craned my head to look at the man whom I was possibly going to confront, and I saw something in his eyes: he hated me.

Every now and then you encounter a stranger who hates you. You don't understand it, but deep inside of yourself, in your blood and in your bones, you know it. You make a choice whether to enter their insanity and have an altercation with them, or you leave the situation as quickly as you can.

When I saw the man's eyes, a voice inside said, "People can get hurt or get killed in seconds. Get away from him NOW."

I went to another fuel pump, not knowing whether I was scared he would shoot me or stab me or force me into his car. I didn't know if I thought he was on drugs or if he was acting on road rage for something I'd unintentionally done a half mile away. I simply went through the motions of pumping gas on a brutally cold day.

For a moment or so, my pride was in control. I held my credit card in my teeth and brushed my hair out of my eyes, trying to look nonchalant about the act of aggression I'd encountered and the fact that I had walked away from a confrontation. But the more I thought about the look in his eyes, the more disturbed I became. I was aware of the four or five other people pumping gas, but I was also aware that they weren't paying attention to me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the man looking at me as I waited on the fuel pump. The voice came back. "Do not fill your tank up. You already have enough gas to make it. Leave NOW."

As calmly as I could, I pulled out the hose, refastened the cap and got into my car. I didn't wait to be asked if I wanted a car wash or a receipt. I left, and the man left at the same time, driving in a different direction.

Once I was on the road, I called my husband to check on him and the children. Before I told him about my experience, he said he had something he wanted to say to me. An hour before, he had suddenly been struck by so much love for me that he felt he needed to thank God for me. So that's what he did.

Consciousness of God and his love consumed me. Suddenly I realized that I may have been the one who was in danger, and it may have been my husband's prayer of thanks for my existence that protected me. I won't know in this lifetime, but I am almost sure. Prayer is powerful, unselfish prayer for others is powerful and prayer of thanks is more powerful than we can begin to comprehend.

God, I don't really understand what happened yesterday or what it meant, but thank you for giving me people who pray for me, and thank you for this life.

Silenced

I am not still not able to write on paper without triggering or aggravating pain in my neck, and although I can easily type, I try to save my computer-posture strength for my job. I have only been to one 12 step meeting in the past several weeks because of how hard it is to sit in chairs in a group for an hour.

So the ways in which I expressed my spiritual thoughts - journaling, blogging, talking at meetings - are missing from my life most of the time now.

I talk to God, to the saints. I feel like my echo bounces back to me. It always did, but hearing my own voice at meetings and writing about God helped to make our relationship real to me.

This part of the journey seems to be a place where I depend on God more heavily than I ever have but without the spiritual helps I've relied on for years. I hate it even though I believe that I'll learn something that will be valuable to someone else eventually. Even writing that hurt. I vacillate between feeling shock, anger and self-pity over my condition and feeling embarrassment that I think about myself like I have a "serious" ailment.

My neck stiffened up like an iron plate as I typed, as if to back up everything I've been trying to express. I have no voice right now, not without pain.

Not without pain.