Cycling

It is interesting that our relationship began and has ended with cycling.

I was talking to a friend, who went through a similar pain, I had told her, "I can't do it anymore."
She replied, "Well, you can.  You're just choosing not to."
I thought for a moment, "You mean I can cycle more?  I would really become a terrible person if I chose to do that."
She responded, "Yeah, I'm sure you could cycle your whole life if you wanted.  The only way something is going to change, or the only way there is hope, is if you break the cycle on your end.  He may still be cycling but if you're off that bike, girl, he can cycle all he wants or get off too."

That was said yesterday.
All day it has percolated.
Today is Caleb's 31st birthday and we didn't even talk.

God is an amazing story writer... what foreshadowing to have us meet on a cycling trip!!

I don't know where this story is going, but His book is full of redemption, so I can hope.

Because of that talk, I realized, I do have a choice here.  A choice I have always had, but never took responsibility for... I always wanted to BREAK Caleb's cycles.  But I had no control over that and in trying I lost control of myself.

The first step in both AA and Al-Anon (for families of Alcoholics or Addicts) is "We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable."  Not only do the alcoholics (or addicts) have to admit they are powerless over alcohol (or drugs), family members have to admit it too!  For some reason, I thought I had some power that was going to break the cycles FOR Caleb. And that is what pretty much every other "loved one of an addict" begins to think.  I studied so many addiction books trying to "figure it all out."  But I will never be smart enough to fight back against his addictions, and it isn't my place.  Step two and three: "Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity" and "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives (and the lives of our loved ones) over to the care of God."  These steps are used all over the world to help people step out of the insanity of living with addiction... and here I was thinking I was going to HELP!  Only God. Only God.

My life is slowly becoming a life again, but it had become unmanageable. Completely unmanageable!  What a horrible wreck I was, running around, living Caleb's life and my life as best I could while he fought back with the strength of a man drowning... While we cycled up hill, I thought it was me, while we cycled downhill, I blamed him... but, it was all just us, not getting off the bike.

On our wedding day, the professor who led the bike trip, spoke at our reception.  His speech was titled "Marriage is like a bike."  Every paragraph started with the phrase "Marriage is like a bike," and then he posited philosophical truths about marriage that likened it to a bike.  He gave us a copy of the speech to keep... in all eleven times I have moved in the past nine years, I have no idea where that speech is... but how incredibly true those words ring today!

Marriage is like a bike.  We keep cycling back into insanity.  Now I have to get off the bike.

I couldn't have made up a more fitting metaphor for our marriage.  The symbolic accuracy still has me in a little awe as I continue to consider the fact that I am finally stepping away from the cycling.  Then there was this song:

Wait, did I write those lyrics?  No? Well, I could have.

"Can't go back to make things right, but I wish I understood, time has made things clearer now, we did the best we could... and it's time to let you go..."

*Bleeding- Heart- Tears* 

This week has been good, but rough.  There have been some awesome moments, when I think, "Hey, I'm awesome. I've got this!  Let's go!"  And then there have been some moments where, well, I put it like this: I have so far been able to *mostly* keep the cathartic crying to when the babies are all tucked away in bed, certifiably fast asleep... then flood waters burst forth and I usually end up in a similar position (making similar noises) to when I was in transition phase of labor, you know, that terrible part right before the pushing. I end up on my left side, curled up, heaving those deep sobs, moans and groans of a body ripping apart... crying out to Jesus for strength to carry on... I'm sure this pain will birth something new... but I don think the pain will be as quick to pass as when I snuggled my new born babies a few hours after every other transition.

That was me last night.  Because today is Caleb's 31st birthday, and we can't really talk anymore.  We've tried, but it never ends well.  So we don't.

I let the kids call and sing to him.  They went in the bedroom while I washed dishes.  They had a nice little chat.  I was glad he answered, because William had cried himself to sleep last night while I rubbed his back and prayed with him.  But we can't talk and birthdays have always meant a ton to me, I love to make them super special... but I couldn't and it was really hard!  But I have to step out of the cycle, the circle dance, the unmanageable life...

I went to COSI with my sister today.  It was really really fun! 

However, I forgot to let a friend know, a friend I had lined up to watch the kids so I could run errands and pay bills sans kids.

Just like I forgot to take the kids to piano lessons yesterday, even though the teacher texted 15 minutes before the lesson, and I was getting the kids ready to go, but a few minor catastrophes happened and I forgot I was getting them ready for lessons and didn't remember the lesson until it was almost bed time!

Finally, today, I bought some milk at a local store, went to load up the kids and left the bag sitting right on the sidewalk while I drove away... I didn't even realize it until I got home to unload the van...

I think I am doing well, but apparently I am still in this crazy mental funk!  I am getting parts of the house nice and neat and organized.  That feels really good.  And I think I am doing well, most of the time.  The children are clean, happy, well fed, and healthy, all four of them... but the incredible increase in my forgetfulness indicates that I am not doing as well as I would like to believe.

I'm not sure how to address this.  Hopefully, as I process through the grieving and adjust to the full responsibilities of single-motherhood, I will either get less forgetful... or I will be able to think clearly enough to create systems (like I used to create for McFadden Electric) that will make forgetting the groceries and piano lessons much less likely...

I am thankful for the community surrounding the children and me.  I am thankful my sister was brave enough to take her itty bitty one and her three year old to COSI to spend the day with me.  Even if it ended up being a bit of stimulation-overload.

I am thankful my parents were around to have dinner together with us.

I am thankful I am able to write my way though this.

I am thankful that no one in my support system has said, "Well, I'll bet you knew he was a drug addict when you married him and now you're just using it as an excuse to get a divorce.  Drug addiction is not sanctioned in the Bible as an excuse for divorce" (This has been said to shame another, who carried a similar weight and brokenness).

Yeah, I'm thankful for people who understand mercy and grief.
I'm thankful that all of the shame I still feel is overwhelmed by the love and forgiveness of God.
I am thankful that God's story is a story of resurrection and new life... that God divorced Israel, then remarried a New Israel through the New Covenant of Christ... I'm grateful that is how His story goes.
I'm thankful that God has filled His love letter to us with grace and mercy toward victims, broken people and fatherless children... I am thankful for the loving heart of a God who saves and I pray it will continue to weave into myself and the children a new narrative of wholeness.  I also pray for Caleb, where ever he may be tonight, that a similar narrative can be his...  I pray he is ready to get out of the crazy cycle too.
He's 31, we had some awesome dreams for our 30s... It is hard to let them go.