![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judecorpThis is the second in a sporadic series of installments intent on processing my previous relationship. As is often the case, it will be snipped so you can avoid it if you should so desire. I offer that option now.
I keep all of my promises. This is one of the things, if not /the/ thing, that I am most proud of in my life. I use the words "I promise" very sparingly. Even when I don't say those words, though, it is often easy to tell when I have given my word. And I don't use "I didn't say 'I promise'" as an excuse. Ever.
When I was 18, I learned a very valuable lesson. I learned that you can never promise someone forever. I learned this in the ultimate Training Ground - the high school relationship.
Yes, I was one of those who thought I was going to marry the other half of my first serious relationship. That is, of course, until I went to college. Isn't that always the way?
I'm going to make a confession here, boys and girls (and in-betweens). I'm going to tell you that I got married for what, in hindsight, was probably not the smartest reason in the world. But it was my reason. And it's true. This isn't the voice of the bitter ex. It's the voice of the knight.
I got married because I said I would. Because I promised.
I don't really believe in marriage, not in the legal sense here in the US. It's sexist, patriarchal, heterosexist, and ridiculous. It's not for me. I don't feel that people should need a legal document to seal their commitment. And I don't feel that people's commitments should be considered invalid if they are unable to obtain a legal document. Because of this reason, and many others, I am opposed to marriage.
Marriage, however, was very important to A. I heard over and over that this was a big deal, that it meant a lot to the parentals, that there were benefits to compromising my ideals. Insurance. Tuition remission. Ceremony. Ritual. In the end, it goes back to the feelings echoed in my previous installment: I'd rather live in his world, then live without him in mine. With this in mind, I accepted his marriage proposal. I wore his ring. Proudly, even.
In the time that passed between the engagement (December 1997) and the wedding (August 1999), my reservations grew. And grew. And I fell into a depression the likes of which I have never known (not even with all of the crap that went on this summer did I feel even a third as bad as I did in Maine, where I would sleep 12-14 hours a day on average). In May of 1999 I had a brief affair with the owner of the Pillowcase of Angsty Love. If I was unsure about the whole wedding thing before, I was completely conflicted after she and I parted ways wistfully. The energy between us made what little physicality existed between A. and me seem ridiculous in comparison. The desperation with which my heart linked to hers was eye-opening as well.
When push came to shove, though, I had made a commitment. I had made a promise. And there was nothing, not my ideals or my happiness that was going to make me break my word. I walked down the aisle. (We won't even talk about the fiasco that preceeded this event, or the phone call to my mother that morning letting her know I wasn't going through with it.)
I don't know what's crazier - the fact that this is the reason I got married (and now have to get divorced) or the fact that I actually /told/ people that this was the reason I was getting married, and no one tried to stop me. No one challenged me on this. I think one person laughed awkwardly. "That's a hell of a reason." Something like that.
I am honorable to a fault. Sometimes in too high doses, virtue becomes vice. Do I hide behind my principles? Do I burrow in my ethics? Did I use honor as a way of avoiding the admittance of defeat?
Hindsight is 20/20, they say. Would I have done the same things over again? Perhaps. For love, I would do anything. For the people that I love, I would sacrifice myself. I would rather be hurting than see pain on the faces of those I care about. But in hindsight, perhaps I would not have grown so attached to someone who knew how I felt about marriage and insisted on it anyway. Who knows? Learning experiences, all.
~//~
Today in class, my professor commented that there are several paths to self-awareness. One of these is therapy. Another is an intimate relationship, she said, with someone who knows you and helps you to analyze your thoughts and actions. Last night on the phone with Jennifer, I was confronted and challenged three times. That's three times more than A. did in the entire course of our relationship.
Was he worth my promise? Of course, because I loved him. I wasn't, however, worth his. Well, that's not fair. I can't possibly hold everyone to my twistedly stubborn standards. :)
I keep all of my promises. This is one of the things, if not /the/ thing, that I am most proud of in my life. I use the words "I promise" very sparingly. Even when I don't say those words, though, it is often easy to tell when I have given my word. And I don't use "I didn't say 'I promise'" as an excuse. Ever.
When I was 18, I learned a very valuable lesson. I learned that you can never promise someone forever. I learned this in the ultimate Training Ground - the high school relationship.
Yes, I was one of those who thought I was going to marry the other half of my first serious relationship. That is, of course, until I went to college. Isn't that always the way?
I'm going to make a confession here, boys and girls (and in-betweens). I'm going to tell you that I got married for what, in hindsight, was probably not the smartest reason in the world. But it was my reason. And it's true. This isn't the voice of the bitter ex. It's the voice of the knight.
I don't really believe in marriage, not in the legal sense here in the US. It's sexist, patriarchal, heterosexist, and ridiculous. It's not for me. I don't feel that people should need a legal document to seal their commitment. And I don't feel that people's commitments should be considered invalid if they are unable to obtain a legal document. Because of this reason, and many others, I am opposed to marriage.
Marriage, however, was very important to A. I heard over and over that this was a big deal, that it meant a lot to the parentals, that there were benefits to compromising my ideals. Insurance. Tuition remission. Ceremony. Ritual. In the end, it goes back to the feelings echoed in my previous installment: I'd rather live in his world, then live without him in mine. With this in mind, I accepted his marriage proposal. I wore his ring. Proudly, even.
In the time that passed between the engagement (December 1997) and the wedding (August 1999), my reservations grew. And grew. And I fell into a depression the likes of which I have never known (not even with all of the crap that went on this summer did I feel even a third as bad as I did in Maine, where I would sleep 12-14 hours a day on average). In May of 1999 I had a brief affair with the owner of the Pillowcase of Angsty Love. If I was unsure about the whole wedding thing before, I was completely conflicted after she and I parted ways wistfully. The energy between us made what little physicality existed between A. and me seem ridiculous in comparison. The desperation with which my heart linked to hers was eye-opening as well.
When push came to shove, though, I had made a commitment. I had made a promise. And there was nothing, not my ideals or my happiness that was going to make me break my word. I walked down the aisle. (We won't even talk about the fiasco that preceeded this event, or the phone call to my mother that morning letting her know I wasn't going through with it.)
I don't know what's crazier - the fact that this is the reason I got married (and now have to get divorced) or the fact that I actually /told/ people that this was the reason I was getting married, and no one tried to stop me. No one challenged me on this. I think one person laughed awkwardly. "That's a hell of a reason." Something like that.
I am honorable to a fault. Sometimes in too high doses, virtue becomes vice. Do I hide behind my principles? Do I burrow in my ethics? Did I use honor as a way of avoiding the admittance of defeat?
Hindsight is 20/20, they say. Would I have done the same things over again? Perhaps. For love, I would do anything. For the people that I love, I would sacrifice myself. I would rather be hurting than see pain on the faces of those I care about. But in hindsight, perhaps I would not have grown so attached to someone who knew how I felt about marriage and insisted on it anyway. Who knows? Learning experiences, all.
~//~
Today in class, my professor commented that there are several paths to self-awareness. One of these is therapy. Another is an intimate relationship, she said, with someone who knows you and helps you to analyze your thoughts and actions. Last night on the phone with Jennifer, I was confronted and challenged three times. That's three times more than A. did in the entire course of our relationship.
Was he worth my promise? Of course, because I loved him. I wasn't, however, worth his. Well, that's not fair. I can't possibly hold everyone to my twistedly stubborn standards. :)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Trying this again
Date: 2002-06-20 11:38 am (UTC)I know you and I know A. There are two sides to every story. My one thought is...didn't you technically do the same thing if you married him for a promise but felt that it wasn't really what you should have done in the first place? I don't know how much you told him about those doubts then.
I'm going to way truncate what I said but...I know that you sacrificed for him. He sacrificed for you as well even if you don't see the things he gave up. Or what he did to make sure that you had a place to stay to finish school as you needed to do. I read the more recent journals and all I can see is the that...neither of you are monsters. He speaks well of you. You're hurt and you're angry. I left my exhusband feeling the same way because though in his case he knew we were having problems, he refused to see it or admit it. Everything became my fault. I am a complete monster to anyone he's spoken to. All because of a promise of forever I stayed in a relationship that perpetually hurt me, to the point that I wanted to kill myself before a friend's dear words woke me up and made me look at my life and that I had the power to move on. To end it. I see you guys arguing over who took what pans. They are just...things. Are they truly worth the stress you put yourself through? You admitted...you can replace them easily. Do you really use them all to cook? I don't cook much. I don't worry about pans much. I left with my computer, my car and my clothes. Nothing more. It wasn't worth the fighting when those things could be replaced. You're working on yourself. He's working on himself. You are doing what you both should have done long ago. The rest is just side bs that isn't even needed. Why tear each other apart? Why focus so much anger there? When moving on is far more productive? Oh I don't like my ex. I won't even live in the same state with him. I can't. He still tries to control me. But I am not letting him haunt me for the rest of my days. I'm stronger than that. You're stronger than that as well. Move on, hon. Your divorce is final. The rest is superfluous. You're free now, as is he. Life really does and should move on. Bitterness and anger really only hurts yourself. *hugs*
Re: Trying this again
Date: 2002-06-20 12:59 pm (UTC)Re: Trying this again
Date: 2002-06-21 10:22 am (UTC)After I answer these questions, though, I would be glad to answer any others but I have little desire to a) rehash old things and b) bring someone into the middle of two people. That's just icky. Still, for you, here:
didn't you technically do the same thing if you married him for a promise but felt that it wasn't really what you should have done in the first place? I don't know how much you told him about those doubts then.
I can't count the number of times we had the "we don't have to get married, I don't believe in marriage, etc." conversation on two hands. I absolutely had doubts, and I feel that I was public about them. And I thought I was pretty clear that if he hadn't said it was so important, I wouldn't have considered marriage. At the time, it seemed like he didn't particularly want to, either - but he was getting mondo pressure from the family.
Or what he did to make sure that you had a place to stay to finish school as you needed to do.
I'm going to butt in here to say that he didn't give me a place to stay. I stayed in this apartment because I had signed a lease, but I was offered three other living situations.
Are they truly worth the stress you put yourself through?
Material goods are never worth stress, only people are. Aggravation is fleeting, and has fled. However, I am still, a year later, stressed about the lack of respect I feel I receive. But that will pass.
Why tear each other apart? Why focus so much anger there? When moving on is far more productive?
Somewhere up in the recent posts I comment that I'm not an angry person, and that's the truth. I do have some anger, I won't lie about that, but the reasons behind that anger are not things I've made public, mostly because I don't want to think about them but also because I see no need to run someone's name aground without the ability to defend oneself. If I have something to say, I will say so directly to him. That may be "tearing him apart," I suppose, but I'm usually more concerned about honesty than consequences. Perhaps that's a character flaw of mine.
Bitterness and anger really only hurts yourself.
If you knew me better, there would be no need to say these things. I got a healthy dose of that lesson when I was a teenager working on forgiving abusive parents. :)