Divorce

Apparently, it's been a year and some change since I've last posted anything to this blog, and longer than that since I've posted anything of substance. It looks like my last real post was along the lines of looking for the motivation that would allow myself to to support myself and my wife as we started a family.

Oh how much can change in a year.

Divorce.

It's an ugly word, especially to Mormons that believe that if they do everything according "to plan" that a happy successful family is guaranteed and insured by God. I certainly felt that way; I got baptized, got the priesthood, went on a mission, and got married in the temple. Then, I got a divorce.

"Excuse me God but I'd like for you to review this certificate of authenticity..."
...
"Exactly, I knew that there must be some mistake so can you please get on that immediately."
...
"Okay, I'll go see Gabriel in customer service and we'll get that straightened out."

Sadly, it was not to be and the reality is divorce.

We Mormons have an interesting relationship with divorce. As I was beginning this terrible process and moving home my social life became nearly non-existant. I'd been married for two years so I didn't have too many single friends and I didn't see the married friends that I'd spent the most times with because I was too busy being a broken recluse living in my parents house. When I did see them though we'd have our brief conversations that were awkward and ended quickly, and I would be haunted by the look in their eyes that practically screamed "You are a living embodiment of the worst failure I fear in this life."


I felt judged, all the time. I felt like a failure in more ways than one. After all, we have these wonderful gospel gems like this one to provide support and reassurance to us in these trying times.

"No other success can compensate for failure in the home."

         - David O. McKay

I do not want to beat a dead horse, and I couldn't begin to describe this to the point of understanding without giving the appearance of beating said dead horse so allow me to just say: The emotional, spiritual, psychological, and even physical trauma of divorce is more pain than I ever thought I would be called on to bear, and more pain than I thought myself capable of bearing.

My lowest point came one evening a couple of weeks after the separation. I was taking a shower and behind the safety of the locked door and under cover of the sound of the running water I let myself cry. I was crying a lot over these months , all the time actually, so I really ought to say I let myself sob. So I am standing in the shower sobbing my guts out and I am so emotionally exhausted that I am physically overwhelmed and collapse into a sobbing heap on the floor of the bathtub. I lie there as the hot water runs out and I'm being sprayed with icy cold water and don't give a damn. In fact, as I think back, beyond somehow cerebrally knowing that the water was cold and probably uncomfortable I was too numb and lost in my pain to care.

Now, I suppose some of you (if there are any of you) reading this may be wondering why I'm telling you this. Maybe it's because I think that divorce is a reality that is conveniently ignored (for the most part) in the church and thus the people unfortunate enough to have to go through it are left relatively lost and unsupported in what is very possibly their time of greatest need. Maybe it's because I've heard some of the rumors about me, and the speculation on the underlying reasons for my divorce. Without exception, the rumors and speculation were wildly off base and hurtful. Another reason is that this is part of me trying to come to terms with an event that has impacted my life permanent way.

More thoughts later, maybe in another year.

Teaser

I think I may have something profound in the works. At least, that's possible. Or it's possibly profound.

Motivation

If you ever want to make fun of actors all you do is walk up to someone and say in as serious a voice as you can muster (plus a British accent helps) "What's my motivation?"

I have recently taken to thinking quite often to myself (in a British accent) "Where's my motivation?" I know What my motivation is. It's that I'm a young newlywed trying to get decent grades and work in a job so that I can support my family now and in the future. I know exactly what my motivation is. I just seem to have misplaced it.

The other day I got up at 6:00 a.m. to finish some Spanish homework that I'd left off the night before because I'd simply been too exhausted for rational thought. Sounds motivated right, getting up early, rising against the forces of gravity and momentum in order actually get oneself out of bed and start the day.

Well, I did those things. I was motivated. Then I sat on the couch with my laptop open on my lap for two hours staring at the Spanish homework on the screen. NOTE: I was not perusing facebook, or other things. I was simply sitting and staring. This seems to be happening to me quite often as of late. I find it distressing, and when I look at my grades I find it more distressing.

Perhaps I'm exhausted from the fact that I have class from nine to noon everyday, followed by work from twelve thirty to five followed by homework.

Of course, one contributing factor I believe was that for the two months at the beginning of the semester I would come home from work at five and then go to rehearsal from six to eleven. I was simply exhausted. I still am. I'm not even taking a heavy class schedule. I think that this is the lightest course load I've ever had. That does not bode well.

Anyway, more on that later. But if you see my motivation anywhere, let me know.

The Wind

I believe that we as human beings live in the middle of a hurricane. Not a great physical hurricane taking place in the cosmos or even one of those minor ones that has a habit of destroying the Florida Keys every few years. I think we're talking about a hurricane of instability.

Fortunately though, I said we're in the middle of the hurricane, and as we all know from 4th grade science (or the movie The Perfect Storm) That's where the eye of the hurricane is. A place of relative peace sheltered from the winds of uncertainty. Where as long as we keep pace with the hurricane and move in the direction that it's moving you can feel a modicum of predictability

Out There amidst the shrieking winds and roiling waters are all of those things that we don't know about and can't approach for certain and can't predict. Out there is the untamed wild.

Did you know that the Wright brothers made 4 flights in their original flyer? They also made them within the space of a few days of eachother. What kind of weather do you think they flew in? If it were me I'd have waited for a calm summer day before trying to test out the first ever flying machine. No, they made the first flight in December of 1903. A very cold day in North Carolina and they did it by flying their airplane into freezing wind that was gusting at around 25 mph.

They flew directly into the wind and achieved flight. It's interesting to note that that legacy carries on today. To conduct flight operations an Air Craft Carrier will increase it's speed and turn into the wind before launching its airplanes. Moving into the wind and away from the calm was and is the only way you can make them fly.

Why, in life, are we so concerned with staying in the eye of the storm. Why don't we brave the winds? Why don't we make sudden changes? I don't know, I wouldn't be posting this if I did know. Maybe you do, will you share?

You know what I realized as I was writing this? When you are moving in the eye of the storm it may be stable, but there are clouds on every side. Only when you brave the winds and fly will you break out of the storm and see the sunset.

An Update!

Bet that caught you by surprise, didn't it?

Companionship

I have a dog, my dog loves me. My life will always have meaning.

It's an interesting line of thought, No? (Of course my fiance will probably read it and wonder it is the dog that is mentioned and not her, to which I will probably have to say "Umm..." quite a few times and then talk about how I was talking about a different kind of love.) I am talking about a different kind of love. I'm talking about a love that borders on blind devotion. (I would say no pun intended, but most people don't know my dog is blind.) I have been the only person at my house for the greater part of last week, and will remain the only resident for quite a bit of next week. Just me and Truly. Being the only one here has made me see just how much dogs need companionship and how much they are reliant on friendship. I suppose that she is going through separation anxiety because first my Mom, Brother, and Sister left, followed by my Dad a few days later. The family is slowly trickling away until there wont be any left.

I, as the last remaining, am being fiercely guarded. If friends come over and move towards me too quickly Truly will jump on them and give a bit of a warning nip. This is quite different from usual. As is her standing in front of the door whenever it's time for me to go to work. Even if she is comfortably asleep if I leave the room somehow she wakes up enough to follow.

Others might find it annoying. I find it touching and an insight into the important things in life. Cumulatively I don't even want to think about how many hours I spend on the computer. Or in front of the TV or video games. My family is right there. Even more important since this chapter of my life is about to end. It is a very bittersweet time in my life. I spend too much time in front of electronics, I spend too much time reading, I spend too much time not interacting with my family. It's ironic though, isn't it? That even though we shove them into a small corner of our lives, that we still say that family is what's most important to us? Even though I get too easily annoyed by my younger siblings, or impatient with my little sister I would gladly die for them? Why is it that I can make the big sacrifices but the the little things are the chores?

My little sister, is one of the greatest and strongest people I know. She doesn't hear it often enough, how much I love her. The rest of my family doesn't hear it often enough either. But what I think I'm trying to get across is that I haven't shown it enough. I suppose that this entry is bordering on the too personal so I'll cut it a little bit short except to give a small piece of advice.

Never leave anyone in doubt of the positive feelings that you have for them. To do so is to live with regret.

Inspiration Cometh

Inspiration cometh or doesn't cometh as the case may be. So I look at the screen and I think what to write about? What wit or wisdom could I or should I share? As far as the inspiration goes, this is definitely a case of the latter, but I'll start writing and see what happens.

just as an insight into the writing process I'll have you know that it was at this point that I wrote three paragraphs and have ended up deleting them all. So as you can see nothing is happening

I feel like Elmer Fudd, "Be vewy vewy quiet, I am hunting inspiwation. What is inspiration? Where does it come from? Why does it motivate us to change/speak out/act out? Why are there certain topics that just seem to reverbrate with different people. With one person it could be saving whales, with another the ozone layer, for millions it could be why they came out with New Coke, or for one opionated woman who's blog I read tonight it could be feminism to the point of neo-nazism. (Trust me, she was crazy!)

When I was in Highschool I downloaded a bunch of famous speeches from history and movies. I put them all on a CD and listened to them. Some of my particular favorites were three speeches by Winston Churchill after the British withdrawel from Dunkirk. When the Lord of the Rings movies came out I finally had a decent recording of Theoden's speeches. JFK, Dwight D. Eisenhower, Tim Collins. I love the speeches from Shakespeare from Brutus to Henry V. What is it that makes these words so inspiring?