Apologize

Going Back To The Gaslighter

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 2 Comments

Tomorrow I leave for Texas. It will be wonderful to see my kids but it will not be wonderful to see their dad. Every time i am there I am terrified that he will do something…what I don’t know but I do know that I do not feel safe. Physically I feel safe but mentally I do not. When someone has screwed with you for five years and everyday was just new lie waiting to be inflicted on you…there is no way to feel safe ever again.

I did make it to the doctor regarding my Fibromyalgia. She prescribed the usual Cymbalta and was concerned about how my legs were in such crippling pain. I have some blood work to do and back to see her in two weeks. My therapist had an interesting take on the matter. She said I needed to honor my fibromyalgia in that it was telling me to slow down and take time for myself and that the more I try to deny my anger at this situation I find myself in regarding the divorce; that the worse the Fibromyalgia is going to get until I give myself the mental and physical rest it needs from five years of mental abuse. I guess she should know. She has been on this journey with me from the start and she knows exactly what B did to me and just how conniving and destructive it was to me and the kids.

In a similar vein, someone I love and respect sent me this video of the new Dixie Chicks song, Gaslighter, and said, “How fitting. Someone made a video of your marriage just change the words from “we moved to California” to “We moved to Texas.”

Even more true to just how much B’s affair and our impending divorce has just about done me in over the past five years. I can relate as Maines sings. “I’m your mirror, Standing here until you can see how/You broke me.” Just insert my photo in Maines place and you can see how broken I really am. In fact, this song feels like a personal anthem dedicated to me.

So I leave you with this wonderful new video and if you have your own gaslighter in your life I hope that you get some strength knowing that you are not alone in the situation.

P.S. Thank you for all the lovely responses and comments. For whatever reason I am unable to respond or reply. Just know that I so appreciate your support.

Don’t Tread On Me

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / Leave a comment

When we moved I took money from my private account and bought several Persian rugs for pennies on the dollar at an auction held at a rug store that was going out of business. I love those rugs… all hand woven and hand dyed from far away lands. I love to imagine the weavers and where they were weaving. I love to imagine their happiness when they sold one after all their hard work. I like to imagine the smells and the scenery that these rugs saw and all the people who have walked across these rugs and found them as remarkable as I. I also wanted something of value to pass on to my kids that they could remember and then enjoy in their homes someday.

When I bought these rugs I asked B to go with me to the auction but he wouldn’t. I asked him to go so we could spend time together and to keep my spending in check because I knew that if cheap enough I might bring home too many. Well that day I came home with four rugs and I have been hearing about it in anger from B. That I went and spent MY money even though he didn’t want me to. Frankly, his carping about it these 4 or 5 times in 6 weeks started to ruin my enjoyment of these beautiful treasures. Finally, I had had it. I told him if he ever said another word about it I would burn them…after all they are only things.

So Tuesday once again the words came tumbling out of his mouth. Imagine his surprise when he walked in the door last night with our son and saw the rugs in a pile at the front door.,

“What’s going on with the rugs?”

‘I’m getting rid of them, ” I said sweetly without an ounce of anger in my voice. “I haven’t decided if I will give them to Good Will or just put them in storage somewhere until I die and they can be distributed to the kids.”

Paul was confused, “Mom, I really like those rugs. The house looks bare without them and it is noisy.”

B chimed in, “Put them back. They look good. I like them.”

Paul, “Mom, why are you doing this?”

B, “Why are you doing this?”

Me. “B, do you really want me to discuss this in front of Paul? Is now the right time for this?”

He nods okay.,

“Okay, Paul, here is the story. Your dad has been upset that I bought these rugs out of my own money. I am tired of hearing about it as it spoils the beauty of them for me. So rather than your Dad getting distressed when he sees them I think it is better that he doesn’t see them which is why I am getting rid of them. Relationships are what is important in life, not rugs. I love your Dad more than a rug. Rugs are replaceable but love has no price. If something like a rug if making your Dad so upset then I don’t need it and it is time for it to go.”

B says, “Look I will buy them from you if that means they can stay.”

“Not interested,” I replied.

“Except for the big one. You can have that one for a half million dollars,” I joked.

Later, I went to pick up daughter from dive team.

When I got home the rugs were back on the floor where they belonged.

“They look good there,” said B with a look of embarrassment and a pleading look in his eyes. “I am sorry. I will never bring up the rugs again if you will just keep them here and let our family enjoy them. Deal?”

“Deal”

IMG_0786

Away Time-Leaving The Affair Behind

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 6 Comments

Things really could not be much crazier at home. This week, when asked, B told me that if he found out he had cancer he would:

  1. Spend time with the kids and me
  2. Spend time with his siblings
  3. Go to Vietnam to see affair woman

I told him that is good to know and that I have a suggestion… why doesn’t he go now?Make himself happy. Stop the madness. Make all of his crazy…I’ve slept with this woman once and know her so well… dreams come true.

“I can’t go”

“Why not?”

“I have you and the kids. A job. Responsibilities.”

“Who cares. Just go. Be happy. Here is the deal…you take 25% of our assets plus we set aside a travel fund for the kids to be able to come see you. You can live like a king in Vietnam for the rest of your life. I get the rest of the assets to put the kids  through college, pay healthcare, and support them the rest of their lives. We both end up happy and you can be with (as he has called her) his ONE TRUE LOVE.”

“Really? You would do that?”-I haven’t seen him this excited in months. I thought he might wet his pants.

Next Day:

When asked when he would be leaving.

“It isn’t practical. I want to be with you.”

Geez…what loving and practical words. Makes a woman just melt. Yes, please whisper those sweet nothings in my ear again. Of course this is only the 100th time I have heard that he wants us to be together, he wants our family together, he loves me and he wants to be with me since I discovered the affair wasn’t over in April.

I also have to wonder if he might be a tiny bit afraid that she doesn’t LOVE him as much as he thinks and may be a tad concerned that she likes him for his money (and mine) which he sent to her to the tune of wayyyyy over $30,000. Yes, more than we have put away for our kids college funds.

Anyway, needless to say, I am weary and tired of this crap/limbo/chaos so for the last two days I have done something I have never done before. I have spent an outrageous amount of money on myself. As I type, I am sitting in my hotel room at the Ritz Carlton in Lake Tahoe. Before you get too jealous…don’t! This hotel has sucked.

  1. I arrive and my room is not ready for over an hour
  2. Instead of just taking my bag to my room they ask if I would like any help getting my bag to the room
  3. I arrive only to find out there are no snacks that you can buy in the entire hotel except one box of CLIFF bars at one of the shops. I had not eaten all day…I am in a luxury hotel and there is nothing to eat except restaurant food at $28 for a quesadilla. REALLY NO FUCKING SNACKS… and the nearest town is 5 miles away.
  4. The coffee shop that I later found out does have a few snacks… closes at 11 a.m.
  5. I can’t get a Malibu cocktail because “our restaurant is high end and we don’t have that in here.”
  6. The bar closes at 9 p.m. I guess light night toddies are frowned upon
  7. I bought a Noosa yogurt that I can purchase in the grocery store for $2.29 and the coffee shop charged me $12 FKING DOLLARS. I didn’t know that was the price until it was already charged to my room because you can bet your life I never would have bought the FKING THING.

I could go on. And while I realize this is petty in the scheme of things and I sound like a spoiled bitch..  please remember for a mom with two special needs kids and a husband who is going off the deep end; I didn’t need ANY MORE stress in my life and the Ritz added to it instead of taking it away. The way I see it is for the money I am spending… it turns out I would have much preferred staying at a Holiday Inn Express where I would knowingly been expected to haul my own bag to my room and there is a small readily available stash of snacks for purchase in the lobby.

On the plus side…the two massages I have had were wonderful as was the sauna. I will say the spa was very nice and relaxing UNTIL I found out that the spa automatically tacks on a gratuity for the spa attendants of 23%. Frankly, I like to determine my own tips thank you very much. And I owe big thanks you’s to Kristen, Kathleen and Michael for their great service.

Okay but enough of this bitching. I know I am fortunate and I should not complain esp. when I have two days alone without the chaos of home life. I am sorry. Please forgive me. I am dreading check out as i suspect  that when get the bill my mood will darken considerably and all that lost stress will return with a vengeance. But until then, I leave you with some pictures of the area…I will send you a bill for them later. For if you are staying the Ritz you might as well treat everyone else like they are too. And so dear Reader this is for you.

images

 

IMG_4863

IMG_2276

IMG_4455

IMG_1069

IMG_6583

IMG_9205

Forgiveness

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 4 Comments

images-7

Tonight it was my turn to pick our dialoging question and I chose one to address something that has been weighing heavy on my mind. It was a difficult statement which forced nothing less than that kind of down-on-your-knees honesty and a period of tough introspection on my part. The statement was:

Please forgive me for ______________.

As part of a married couple, I think that way too often we just expect to be forgiven for our misdeeds because, well, isn’t that what you are expected to do for someone you love? Too often we ask for forgiveness without stepping into our love’s shoes and trying to image the pain we may have intentionally or inadvertently caused them. Too often we expect to be forgiven when we have not taken the necessary steps to repair the damage we have inflicted. Yet, when we really stop to consider what we have done and ask for true forgiveness we find it harder than we ever could have imagined. Why? Because we  have to really look inside of ourselves, examine our motivations and sit with the various hurts that we have caused others by our actions. It is tough slogging-through-the-mud kind of stuff.In addition we often fail to:

  1. Consider how our actions were responsible for the feelings invoked in both parties
  2. Think about why we did what we did and then take responsibility for it
  3. Examine how our past has influenced our present day behavior and in order to do better in the future we have to unpack the past.
  4. Recognize our actions as continuing pattern of behavior and then evaluate if it is serving us and our loved ones well
  5. Notice how our actions may have led to a reaction from our spouse that is justified under the circumstances; but then turn around and use their reaction to justify our own less-than-stellar behavior

I have to confess that I often find asking for forgiveness to be difficult but not for the reasons you might think. I find it difficult because by asking I am risking that the other person may say “No I don’t forgive you.”  Or I might have to change. In addition, by asking for forgiveness it forces me to examine those parts of me that I do not enjoy recognizing in myself which then forces me to abandon the luxury of blaming my spouse and instead I have to look inward…which is not always an easy place to go.

Asking for forgiveness is scary. Asking for forgiveness is humbling.Forgiveness takes practice. It is an art. Yet, asking for forgiveness by our mates is also necessary so that we can forgive ourselves and move on. For it is only in moving on that we can become all we were meant to be.

Please forgive me for_________. It is the only way to start.

 

Being A Mother Sucks…Part 2

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 7 Comments

IMG_4371

She didn’t like the art museum. Okay, I kind of “get” that seeing pictures of old men with shrunken penises and heads being lopped off may not be your cup of tea but what about the woolly sheep standing in a brilliant green field or the pretty cuddly kitten chasing after a butterfly. Surely out of the thousands of paintings on display you could find ONE you liked. Just ONE. NOPE.

She didn’t like our dinner. She ordered pizza…what’s not to like? It’s a dish she requests time and time again but today it was as if the waiter brought her a plate of liver and onions.

She didn’t eat much of the blueberry pancakes she ordered. What the heck…we have blueberry pancakes all the time! But with hotel prices at $12 a plate for blueberries and batter she couldn’t stand them. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!

She didn’t like the Field Museum…one of the greatest museums in the world. You mean to tell me Ancient China isn’t amazing? NO. Or the gemstones the size of small hills? NO. How about SUE the most complete T-Rex in the world? NO. Really? You didn’t like her either? BORING.IMG_4388

Maybe the Ancient Egyptians with their mummies…thank you… NO!IMG_4429

Or maybe the animals mounted and stuffed in all their glory? GROSS. There was nothing in the entire building that caught her fancy.

Okay, BOLD MOVES by the Joffrey Ballet. This one I was a little worried about. I have really never loved ballet but figure I am giving her some “culture” and if nothing else ideas for her routine. images-6 Of course, she developed a nosebleed in the first part of the performance but I’d be damned if we were leaving. Here is a kleenex. Stuff it up your nose. And so we sat through the three performances and I wept like a crazy old cat lady during the final one. Never have I seen something so beautiful and moving in my entire life. Never could I relate so well. Today I learned to LOVE ballet…my  tween daughter…not so much.

As a mom sometimes it feels like nothing you do is right.EVER. But then you finally catch on and realize it isn’t about you at all. It’s the hormones and your daughter is turning into a bitchy, selfish soon-to-be menstruating maniac and you remember back to a days when your mother could do nothing right. You didn’t like the dress she bought for you…it was too old fashioned just like her. You didn’t do the dishes and she did them for you because it was easier than dealing with the likes of you. You wouldn’t eat her pot roast and sulked like a two-year-old because there was only vanilla ice cream and not chocolate. You refused to SING ALONG WITH MITCH and instead turned up the volume on Led Zeppelin. And that is when it really hits you…horror of horrors… you realize that she has returned as you when you were a horrid cruel totally-into-yourself-snotty-14 year-old. Suddenly you have become your mom… old, boring and certainly not cool. Then, like the principle dancer who hastened her demise and threw herself upon a sword, you briefly consider doing the same, just so you can experience a quick and easy death rather than deal with a reincarnation of a teenage you in the house. That’s when you fall to your knees and wish for just one more hour with your mother so you could apologize, beg her forgiveness and tell her how great a mom she was and that you remember how hard she tried to create moments so special that you would remember them for the rest of your life but not appreciate them until your own daughter’s hormones went awry. And then you cry yet again because suddenly teenagehood is upon you and YOU aren’t ready to give up that sweet little girl that once hung on your every word, freely cuddled with you and loved you back without restraint. Yep, the teen years are upon us…God help us all!

Losing It

/ Gardy Loo Pismire / 4 Comments

imgres

As you know I am desperately trying to curb my yelling habit and for the most part I am succeeding. I had only yelled once in over eight weeks which in itself is amazing but this weekend I lost it.

It isn’t easy raising teenagers especially those with autism. Andre does everything he can to push my buttons. While incredibly smart he also uses that keen intelligence of his to manipulate those around him and it is draining. This weekend after repeatedly asking him to hang up his clothes he told me, “I don’t have hangers.” I responded by going to his closet and started throwing every hanger he had out saying repeatedly “Here’s a hanger, here’s a hanger” until I had thrown at least 30 into the middle of his room. Then I decided that he could go through all the shirts and get rid of those that no longer fit him and took all those shirts off their hangers and threw them in the middle of his room until his closet was bare. During this time he was intentionally saying “push your button” things that just fueled the fire; the embers rising swift and hot like my temper.

I hate when I lose it with my kids. It makes me feel so small. It makes me beat myself up about not being a parent that my children deserve and certainly not one whose behavior I want them to emulate to their own brood when they become adults. Losing it with my children feels like it diminishes my capacity to be a fully functional human being and that in losing it I also sacrifice part of my own humanity in the process; something I can ill afford. I hate it.

Mindfulness has helped change many of my reactions to situations but what do you do when mindfulness dissipates in the heat of the moment?

I am learning to apologize and pray that the others involved grant me grace. Then I sit in the moment of shame, observe it, then let it go. For they tell me that the only way we can feel diminished is through self-talk in which we berate ourselves for our numerous failures. Frankly, that kind of talk doesn’t get you very far in life and I’ve done enough of it to know. Dispassionate observation of what occurred and pausing to recognize what happened and then letting it go is my only option.  Then I just forge ahead with the belief that I can and will try to do better.Truly it is the only thing I can do.