Trust, Revisited. January 9, 2012

I originally posted this in April of last year.  I grappled with the issue of trust then … of figuring out how in the world to ever be capable again of believing in someone’s stated good intentions, of how to avoid assuming that everything told to me was a lie, of how to replace suspicion and self-preservation with strength and faith.  I thought I had a handle on it, and moved on. 

(And Fate said, “Very funny.”) 

I was reminded this weekend, in fairly unpleasant fashion, that I haven’t at all mastered this trust thing yet.  Maybe I’m not even close.  I’m not sure if it’s a lesson that is easily forgotten, or if it is just one that is so difficult, so huge, so monumentally risky that it must be relearned again and again.

I don’t really know what trust looks like now, in the aftermath.  The blind and utter faith I had before, in The Ex?  I have doubts of ever making it back to that place of surety. And I have doubts that I even should.  That place seems … naive.  And maybe just a little bit irresponsible.  But being able to trust, to believe, to hope, and yet still tempering that with wisdom and experience?  I’d like to figure out how to do that.  That’s the place I’d like to find.  I’m hoping that the choosing, the deciding, the trying to trust again … I’m hoping that gets me pretty close.

I still believe in the quote I included in last April’s post.  It still moves me and motivates me.  I needed the reminder today.  Maybe someone out there does, too. 

From April 2011:

It shouldn’t come as a shock that I sport some pretty serious trust issues these days, especially given that letting people in and being vulnerable was never my strong suit in the first place.  Giving someone the power to hurt you isn’t the same as giving them permission, I realize, but it sure puts you one step farther along that road.

The one person in my life I ever fully trusted—with everything—with all of me—was The Ex, and he betrayed that trust in fairly spectacular fashion. Ever since, I’ve been angry at myself for having been so naive.  I’ve been disappointed that I ignored the warning signs and believed the excuses.  I’ve regretted the faith I had that someone with whom I shared great love would never willingly, intentionally, carelessly hurt me.  I trusted completely and in the end, felt like a complete fool for doing so.

It’s not a mistake I have any desire to make again.  There’s ego wrapped up in that, for sure.  As well as pain and fear and disbelief and quite a healthy dose of self-preservation.

I’m not sure how to come back from the place where my trust was so desolated.  I don’t know what has to happen before it makes sense for me to hand over that power another time.  How do I learn to trust The Ex again (and I have to learn it, at least on issues relating to our children)?  Where do I find the confidence to trust my own judgment after being so very, very wrong before?  When does it become the safe and smart move to trust someone else with my heart?  Many days it just doesn’t seem worth the risk.

But then there’s this:

Better trust all, and be deceived,

And weep that trust, and that deceiving;

Than doubt one heart, that, if believed,

Had blessed one’s life with true believing.

–”FAITH” by Frances Anne Kemble

Easier said than done, obviously, but it makes me want to try.  That single little stanza somehow stills the swirling inside.  It does nothing to explain the when or the where or the how, but it fairly well nails the why.  When I read this I feel absolution for wrongly trusting before.  When I read this I feel a beginning justification for trusting again.  Wish me luck.

Prologue. January 6, 2012

So.  Thing the first, which really got the ball rolling on the month full of change …

The morning after my birthday, as I sat at a sidewalk cafe table in NYC on a gorgeous fall day, completely content, I got a text from The Ex informing that The Girlfriend was pregnant, that the kids were excited about their new sibling-to-be, and that The Ex wanted to meet for lunch or coffee the following week to discuss, among other things, “creating an environment that fosters a full and healthy relationship between the baby and Avery, Owen, and Amelia.”

Ok.

Never mind that The Ex, intentionally or not, seems to have a knack for dropping these digital bombs while I am away enjoying myself (see also: the engagement-announcing email while I was in Vegas).

Never mind that I couldn’t talk to the kids or gauge their true feelings and thoughts for several more days.

Never mind that the last thing in the world I wanted to do was sit down with The Ex and discuss him having another baby (or anything else, for that matter).

Never mind the unmitigated gall it took to assume it was my shared responsibility to create loving relationships for the child he is creating with the woman he left me for.

Never mind all of that.

My children were (are) going to have another sibling.  A sister.  And that is such a bizarre pill to swallow.

My unit of three, my trio against the world, will add one to their team.  For life.  They will have familial blood bonds with a person who has absolutely no connection to me.  That scares me.

The Girlfriend will now have a biological child of her own … her baby.  Now that she no longer needs to prove her mothering capacity to The Ex, will she stop being caring toward my children?  When the inevitable conflict between my children and hers occurs, is there any universe in which she won’t choose hers over mine?  And The Ex—when the day comes that he must prioritize the child he has with the woman he loves and the children he has with “the crazy ex wife”—is there any way my children won’t lose out in that competition?   That scares me.

The people in the Ex’s house are now going to seem even more like a “real” family—there’s a mom and a dad and kids, all under one roof, all working for the same purpose.  My house will continue to be the single working mama house, with all the chaos that entails.  Will The Ex’s home look and feel more “normal”  than mine?  That scares me.

If, God forbid, something happens to me and to The Ex, The Girlfriend may now have a stronger legal argument for custody of my kids (assuming she would want them as she says she does) because she is also raising their half sibling.  That scares me (and makes me sick).

I know that fear isn’t the best place from which to act or respond.  If the goal is logical and rational behavior, fear isn’t a good starting point.  I know that.  I try to live that.  But damn—that doesn’t mean it’s not scary.

I expected it.  I knew it was coming.  And yet … I was still shocked.  I am fairly certain The Ex doesn’t actually want another child (the decision to have #3 required much, much discussion and analysis and a huge leap of faith in the end).  But he’s having one anyway.  As he did about not wanting to remarry, The Ex apparently changed his mind about his lack of desire to have another child.

This didn’t go unnoticed by our children.

Shortly after The Ex’s announcement, Avery and Owen took great pains to re-confirm with me that: (A) I have no current plans to remarry; and (B) I don’t want to have any more children.  They were quite clear in their position that, although they are excited about the new baby sister set to join the family at their dad’s house, NO such changes would be acceptable at my house.  I must admit, this irked me.  The Ex has been forgiven all manner of dishonesty and unreliability with them.  He has left, lied, ignored their expressed concerns and unhappiness, remarried, and decided to have another child.  He is permitted to do anything, anytime.  He is always forgiven.  He is allowed.  I am not.

I asked this kids about this, simply wanting them to recognize the double standard.  I thought they’d give me some push-back to the question, but they didn’t even blink.  When I asked, “why”, they immediately responded, “Because Dad has changed.  He’s not the same Dad anymore and he’s going to do what he wants to do anyway.  But you’re the same Mom.  You haven’t changed.  And we don’t want you having any more kids.”  It’s that simple to them.  He is allowed; I am not.  They need one of us be the constant, and I am so utterly grateful it gets to be me.

Just like that, I became (and am still) less scared.  And the stage for the rest of the month was set.

Rewind. January 4, 2012

“Metamorphosis” by Margie Chapman

I didn’t really write much in December … except to point out the obvious, which was that I wasn’t writing, which really isn’t writing at all, is it?

There were reasons for my quiet.  Good reasons, I think, now that I have the benefit of hindsight.  Looking back on the month, I needed to stay silent.  There were shifts occurring—in perspective, in relationship, in attitude.  There were decisions to make.  Certain doors were closing permanently, just as others were opening.  Things were changing.

Where I find I usually need to write in order to sort things out and process my thoughts and emotions, last month I felt it keenly necessary to keep it all in instead of let it all out.  I needed to turn inward, to sit still, to search.   And then I needed to take some steps that were pretty damn scary, just because it was finally time to do so.

I’m not sure I can really explain it except to say that December, in addition to being the final month of the year, felt like my final step in a very long, very arduous, very painful process.  And now I feel like I can breathe again.  I can’t recall the last time I was this excited about a new year—I’m more than ready to greet 2012 and see what it has in store for me.  But before I can go forward I need to rewind and fill in some gaps here.  There’s some catching up to do.

2011 Blog In Review. January 3, 2012

Yesterday was the two-year anniversary of Now Is Good.  I missed it (as, in all honesty, I miss most anniversaries, birthdays, and milestones).  Truth be told, I didn’t even think about it until I received my annual statistics report for the blog.  Interesting stuff.

According to WordPress,

• Now Is Good was viewed approximately 50,000 times in 2011.  That’s a few thousand more than in Now Is Good’s first year, but pretty consistent between 2010 and 2011.

• There were 66 new posts in 2011.  That’s not nearly as many as I’d like.  I need to write more.

• Now Is Good’s busiest traffic day was August 31st.  When people came on that day, they read “Venting.”  It continues to fascinate me that the most painful or frustrated posts are usually the most popular. 

• The most commented-on post in 2011?  “Grass Rhymes with Ass Rhymes with Class.”  And not all of the comments were nice.

• The other three most frequently read posts this year were “I A Little Crying,” “Find A Little Courage,” and “Marriage Farce.”  When I go back and re-read these, I can tap right back into the pain and turmoil of those times.  That’s a good thing, because although I don’t want to feel those ways again, I don’t want to forget those pains.  The hard times  are the ones that shape me and the ones I want to remember clearly.

• Of my five most frequent commenters?  Four are people I’ve only “met” virtually out here in the blogosphere.  And three are folks whose own blogs I read (and comment on) regularly.

• When people found me by doing a search, they usually appeared to be searching specifically for me, with “now is good,” “now is good blog” and “nowisgood blog” being the most commonly input terms.  Wonderfully, though, the other search terms that most frequently led people here were the words “Yes” and “Courage.”  I really like that, because those are two words I’ve found within myself as a direct result of writing here.

• Most of my readers hail from the U.S., but there are a good number in Canada and India, too.  Readers have also landed here from Mexico, Brazil, Peru, Columbia, Chile, Argentina, UK, France, Germany, Austria, Ireland, South Africa, Egypt, Nigeria, Ghana, Namibia, Malaysia, Philippines, Singapore, Hong Kong, Australia, New Zealand and Guam.  This boggles my mind and drives home the fact that although the world is vast, we are all interconnected.

Thank you for reading.  Thank you for commenting.  Thank you for supporting me.  Although I may go AWOL occasionally, this blog has given me a voice and a creative outlet that was very much lacking in my prior life.  You’ve given me a community, and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.

Happy New Year, everyone.  Here’s to a magnificent 2012!