Book Review: Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert

The Kiss - RodinI know there are a lot of Elizabeth Gilbert haters out there, but I think she is actually a very good writer, and just because her books have been popular does not mean that her writing is mediocre. I find her writing style personable and engaging. I enjoyed Eat, Pray, Love, all the while envying her ability to travel like that – would that we could all take a year and visit three amazing places on our bucket list! Some complain that her divorce as portrayed in the book wasn’t “real” enough, even though her divorce isn’t actually the center of the story – her recovery is (and shouldn’t we single gals be supporting each other instead of tearing each other down with “if you think that’s bad” stories?).  When Committed came out, I actually bought it in hard cover (not a planned purchase, just one of those see-it-in-the-bookstore-and-think-what-the-heck purchases).  And I read it and enjoyed it, how it weaves anecdotes with research, and I learned a heck of a lot more about matrimony than I had ever known before. I like books where I learn stuff.

Here I am, on the cusp of getting married again, to someone who is not-scared-of getting married, but shall we say, a little anxious, not having been married since the mid-eighties. And I remembered this book, sitting on my shelf, about a man and a woman facing marriage, and who are also a-little-more-than-anxious about getting married. I decided to read it again, to see if I could gather any insight into my fiancé’s perspective, and explore my own feelings on the subject.

Ms. Gilbert says, “It’s been famously said that second marriage is the triumph of hope over experience, but I’m not entirely sure that’s true. It seems to me that first marriages are the more hope-drenched affairs, awash in vast expectations and easy optimism. Second marriages are cloaked, I think in something else: a respect for forces that are bigger than us, maybe. A respect that perhaps even approaches awe.” I tend to agree, although I think hope is the wrong word here. I think first-time marriages are the epitome of naivete (sorry – can’t think of a better word!), thinking that divorce will just not “happen” to them, because they think they are in control, while second marriages are hopefully careful, acknowledging that there are forces within and around a marriage that are just not in our control, but that being aware, and having that experience may actually give us an edge.

I take exception to her terminology and jaunt into singlemomdom, when she uses that washed up old term “broken home” to describe a single parent family. Although she does stress that her point about kids doing better in two-parent homes is actually in reference to the consistency and stability of a family, rather than the actual numbers of parents, I really just wish she had said that instead of the whole “kids do better in un-broken homes” section.

But the stories about the people she encounters on the other side of the world, and how silly her questions may have sounded, and the over-analyzing of the marriage statistics…  It all makes sense to me.  Because I do the same thing when I am anxious about something.  I’m not (very) anxious about my own second trip down the aisle, but as I said, I get it – I completely understand why anyone would be.

Another point that resonated with me was the discovery that early western marriages were in spite of the Church, who wanted no one between an individual and God, not even a spouse. Early western marriages, then, were alliances between a man and a woman, in effect, against the world. I like that.

I spoke with a friend today who is at the beginning stages of her second divorce, and she is obviously bitter about marriage in general.  She can’t be happy for me, although she is trying – and I understand.  She said, “Why can’t you just be happy together?  Why do you have to get married?”  I had no reply, because I understood.  But my question back is, Would your heart hurt any less if you had never gotten married this second time?  Or would it still be messy and ugly, this breaking up stuff?

In any case, this book is a thinking person’s book for anyone, not just those contemplating a second marriage. Ms. Gilbert tackles tradition, cultural differences, expectation, and anything else a skeptic would research before coming to terms with something as important and life-altering as getting married, for the second time.

The Other Part of Our Story: The Final Installment

English: A S'mores made with a half a Hershey'...

It was a messy summer.  He left us without a vehicle for the fourth of July, so I had to rent one to get from place to place, and without my knowing, he had given our grill to a friend, so the backyard grilling I had planned for The Boy and I was almost derailed.  But my mom suggested one of those “disposable”-type grills, and we were able to have our hotdogs and s’mores and watch the fireworks on our driveway.  And we were OK.

I had waited so long at first because I had been raised Catholic – ’nuff said.  And then I waited some more because I didn’t want to end up sharing The Boy.  And then I waited some more because I wasn’t sure I could do it – be a single full-time parent to a child with special needs.

And then I realized I was already doing it all by myself.  I didn’t have to share The Boy, and probably wouldn’t (I knew his dad would fail to keep his side of the parenting agreement).  And frankly, religion had left me out in the cold with regards to my son and his needs.  I knew he needed consistency.  I knew he needed to not be yelled at, and not be spanked.  I knew after the failed counseling that none of this would change, and even though I was scared to do it alone, our trip down south reminded me that it could be better.

The ex moved out at the end of the summer.  We were arguing about who was going to pay what bills (I got stuck with piles of bills that had been left unpaid for years, he got stuck with an extra vehicle in his name).  I attempted to buy a car and almost couldn’t because of the state in which he had left my credit.  His mother attempted to sue me for money she had given us for my graduate school.  It was a messy, horrible time.

And then he moved out of the state.  And then he defaulted on the divorce papers.  And then after four months, we were divorced – the judge waived the normal six month waiting period due to the fact that the ex hadn’t paid any support, and had already moved out of the state.  And I had full legal and physical custody of The Boy.

Financially and emotionally, it was a difficult time.  But I always knew I had made the right decision.  And it just kept getting better and better.  Yes, I still have to deal with the ex’s antics from time to time, but as my attorney recently pointed out to me, I can do whatever I want.  And it is so much better at this end of the tunnel.

Thanks to my Village

Our crisis-of-the-week has apparently averted. Fantastic Babysitter is doing me a huge favor and providing The Boy a place to stay for a night and transportation to meet the ex on the day he requested.  The ex has relented (and apparently forgotten the crazy-making way he treated me/us) and has agreed to pick The Boy up according to the new plan.  How could he say no?

SmileIf left to my own devices, this would not have been possible.  If not for a friend at work who suggested the plan and insisted that I was not “giving in” to the ex if I were able to make it happen, I would have resisted making any concessions, or lifting a finger to aid that man.  If not for Fantastic Babysitter, it wouldn’t even be possible.

And before you raise an eyebrow and think to yourself, “But what if he doesn’t show up?”, we got that covered, too.  Again, thanks to Fantastic Babysitter (Now do you see why I call her that??).

Thanks to my friends who help me whether I know I need it or not.  Thanks to my village, that helps me raise my child and be a better mom (and a better person).  Thanks to them, this will turn out OK.

As Prepared as a Boy Scout

To-do list book.

To-do list book. (Photo credit: koalazymonkey)

I have done what I can to prepare for possibilities.

  • I have prepared The Boy for the possibility of coming with me rather than going to his dad’s for spring break.  “But I’ll miss the cats!” he whimpered.  After a few minutes, he was OK.
  • I have offered the ex a way to pick The Boy up on the day he prefers, and he has not responded.  You see, I have deflated his sails, and he doesn’t know how to respond without losing face.
  • I have contacted my attorney to make sure we are as prepared as possible if (and that’s a big if) he decides to follow through.

I can’t do any more besides try to let the anxiety go. (As Grandma always said, “Do your best and that’s all you can do.“)

Today, I am back to running errands, planning to do taxes, getting an oil change.  Taking care of things that need to be taken care of before a trip, and in so doing, attempting to let the stress of the last week go, come what may.  I am as prepared as possible.

Threats and Knots

Binder's knotYou know how some people thrive on conflict, and when they can’t find any create some on which to feed?  Yeah, that’s not me.  When my parents (very rarely) argued when I was little, I would crawl under tables and hide in closets and they weren’t even shouting at each other.  Conflict ties my stomach in knots and makes me head for the bathroom.

The ex is one of those that thrives on conflict.  He also has anger issues, so things can escalate quickly, loudly, and threateningly.  Today, he has threatened to contest our move down south.  Not when I told him we were moving in December.  Not on February 10 which was the last time he spoke to his son until Monday.  Nope.  Today.  Why?  Because he isn’t happy that I am unable and unwilling to adjust my vacation plans (i.e. cut my vacation short by 2 days) to accommodate his inability to pick up his son in a timely fashion for his visitation on spring break.

Luckily, this escalation was all via text, and he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.  My side: all business (the parenting agreement states… I can meet you on these dates…  it is your visitation, so you need to make the arrangements).  His side:  all bluster (expletive… don’t you dare threaten me…  I will contest your move… you might be very nervous come this spring).  All in text, all documented.

And my stomach is in knots.

And I’ve contacted my attorney.

The Other Part of Our Story, Part II

He moved into the basement.  He finally consented to the counseling I had been asking for since The Boy was a baby, six years previous (he had always insisted, “We can solve our own problems”), although he considered it an ultimatum from me, which it was.  We attended three sessions together where he did most of the talking.  After the third session, we had an assignment to list  all of the things that we thought the other person misunderstood about us, and then we were to share our lists with each other.

I read my carefully crafted list of maybe six items.  He then read his three page diatribe about everything that was wrong with me, how his family and friends really felt about me, and about how I was such a bitch.  Then he accused me of throwing something at his head in an argument we had had when The Boy was a baby.

(The real story was, he had thrown something at me, while I was holding The Boy, at maybe three months old.  And I had almost left that day.  I did bundle The Boy up and went for a long walk in the cold and snow.  I finally decided against it because babies have so much stuff and it would be very difficult to move everything.)

After he had lied about that argument, and completely twisted the assignment, showing he had no faith in the counseling, I knew it was time to stop fighting, and time to let go.

From our vacation that June...

From our vacation that June…

The Boy and I left town after school was out, on our annual week-long vacation to my parents’ house.  The ex rarely came, and definitely did not come this time.  I took my ring off for the trip, and never did put it back on.  I decided while there that I would file for divorce when I returned, and I did.

Final installment soon…

The Other Part of Our Story

We hadn’t been happy together since The Boy was born.  For whatever reason, the ex never bonded with him, and had a hard time accepting that my attention was now divided.  He also had a very hard time with the diagnosis, never really understanding autism, and even after hearing a psychologist tell us that it was definitely autism, he still believed The Boy just needed some discipline, and that I was coddling him.  Hence the yelling and spanking.

My friends tell me stories of the years after The Boy was born that I do not remember.  They tell me that one night I had to call a friend to take me to the emergency room because I was exhausted and dehydrated, and that she came to pick me up, and the ex was sitting right there ignoring us, putting his basketball shoes on, and then stepped over me on the floor as he left.

"garage" by nightthree via flickr

“garage” by nightthree via flickr

The winter before the end of our marriage, the ex was laid off, as he usually was in the winter.  He had a bachelor’s degree but refused to use it, and so did menial, seasonal labor (still does).  He stayed home all day, playing video games and watching TV, mostly Bill Maher.  I would come home from work, and most sentences would begin, “Bill Maher says…” as if he didn’t have his own brain.  He was paranoid (thanks to the pot smoking, I think), and insisted that his life was the way it was because the man was out to get him.  I mostly ignored him, which was easy, because he spent most of his time in the garage smoking pot when I was home.

In May, right after Mothers’ Day, I got a call during the day.  I was at a conference two hours from home, and I had to go outside to take it.  He had decided I was a bitch, I never listened to him, and he was leaving.  He was going to stay at his mother’s out of state.  Of course it wasn’t all that matter of fact.  There was much more swearing, yelling, and name calling, but I was panicked and in tears when the phone call was over.  I left immediately, and raced home, calling friends alternately on the ride home.  My first stop was the bank, where I did what I could to secure our money from leaving with him.  And then I headed home, to find him sitting there, saying he didn’t have enough money to get “home”.

~ to be continued… ~

Visitation Means He’s Supposed to Visit You…

On the Road AgainI just spoke with the ex about spring break plans.  He is supposed to have The Boy for the week, and I just never know what’s up, it seems, until the last minute.  I texted him the other night, asking him if he was planning on having The Boy for the week, and he said he was.  We spoke this evening, and I’ve noticed that recently, he has been trying to do some Jedi mind-meld deal like tonight when he said, “So we’re going to do Saturday to Saturday again?”

We have never, ever done Saturday to Saturday, but I think he thinks that if he says it that way, I will go, “Yeah!  That sounds good!”

Does he not remember that we were married for ten years, and never once was I ditzy enough to fall for that kind of crap, and in the almost five years since the divorce, never once have I been inclined to do anything but tell him how it’s going to be?  Because realistically, and according to our court documents, his visitation starts the evening of the last day of school for The Boy (Thursday) and runs through the day before we return (Sunday).  And I am not inclined to give him an inch, especially when he has the track record he does.

I explained my plans, and since he knows that I am still doing him a huge favor by meeting him (or his parents, whoever comes to pick up The Boy) about three hours from home (saving him 6 hours in one trip), he agreed.  At least for now.  He could always call the night before and cancel the whole thing.  If that happens, no worries.  The Boy and I are used to it by now.

The Angry Ex: Personal Attacks

The ex hasn’t paid child support since November.  I know how the system works, and at the two month mark, I called our state system and asked what we could do.  The lady on the phone initiated action, and told me to expect notification of the action in the mail in four to six weeks.  In the meantime, the promises from the ex rolled in, explaining that he was supposed to get his tax refund, so I should see the full amount owed in the account as of this Friday (and to let him know when it posted).  And then it was, OK, it should be in there this Friday.  And then there was no text or phone call for a couple of weeks (and, funny enough, no money, either!).

Today, a payment of $100 showed as being posted.  I admit I poked the bear, but sometimes I have to tell it like it is.  I texted him, “So, not the full amount, huh?”  I just get tired of the incessant lies, and he did ask me to report about what was posted…

What came next was a barrage of personal attacks and excuses, trying to explain the various payments he claims to have made, and asking me if his girlfriend’s kids should suffer so that I could be more comfortable.  You know one of those “1 of 3” texts.

Oh, I was tempted to respond in kind, but instead, I stuck with the facts.  I reported to him that the money he said he had deposited hadn’t posted, and that we had only seen $100 on our end.

He retorted with even more personal attacks and excuses, and I didn’t respond (but I did take a screenshot of the texts!).

You see, even though the personal attacks were directed at me, they weren’t about me.  He has anger issues, he enjoys conflict, and is quick to blame anyone else besides himself for his situation.  This time it was his girlfriend’s car troubles.  Next time it will be something (or someone) else.  In any case, it’s not my problem.  He has a financial responsibility to his son, and that’s not going to go away.

And I got my copy of the notification of action taken against him today.  I’m so glad I’m not alone in holding him responsible.

Pity and Forgiveness

sad

sad (Photo credit: Kalexanderson)

I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness.  As I’ve written before, I find it hard to forgive the ex for the constant disappointment he  inflicts on The Boy.  When he cancels a week of visitation, when he only makes time to see him 4 weeks out of every 52, it is difficult to control the “mama bear” instinct inside of me that wants to thrash him within an inch of his life.  When I have to hold my son while he cries because “it’s too far” for his dad to come and pick him up, forgiveness is probably the furthest thing from my mind.  And I know forgiving him would be healthier for me.  But it is one of the most difficult of my internal struggles.

Today, though, after receiving a text from the ex on Friday saying that due to getting his tax refund back, all of his arrearages in child support will be paid in full as of next Friday, and that he would call The Boy on Saturday (he didn’t)… Today, I find I feel pity.  Pity that the man has a college degree, and is almost 40, but cannot hold a job long enough to prevent this situation.  Pity that his anger sometimes controls his actions, never for the good.  Pity that he just can’t get his sh– straight.  Pity that he just has no clue about what he is missing.

And I suppose pity is closer to forgiveness, right?