Relational Aggression Update: The Power of a Vacuum Cleaner

Like most people exposed to issues of bullying or relational aggression, I want this problem to GO AWAY! "Please, mean people, would you mind just quietly and magically disappearing so that I can return to my idyllic version of my family, the world and my daughter?"  Sadly, they haven't left, they're still here, still hurting her.  Dealing with this is uncomfortable, painful, frustrating and stressful.  I worry that one day I will come home to find my daughter hanging, dead, in her closet.  Seriously, I worry about that.  I have to handle this right, I tell myself, I can't let her be that lost child.

It seems harmless.  It's only words.  Simple words like, "I hate you!", "Get lost!", "You're Stupid!", "Nobody likes you!", "Let's take a vote to see if we want her to play with us today.", "You are the worst player on the team!" (someone told her that on her soccer team this year...she wanted to quit).  But it isn't "just words", it becomes her world, her reality created in language, as it is for all of us.  These words shape our thoughts, the conversation in our heads that tell us who we are, create our insecurities, our fears.  These simple words create a world of isolation.  Next to death, isolation is the worst punishment you can inflict upon a human being.  The common thread of kids who kill themselves or commit violent crime is "He was a loner, he kept to himself."  It should read, "He was rejected by society and sentenced to a life of isolation."  Most likely, he was bullied, often just with words.

I convinced myself  (and tried to also convince my daughter) that fifth grade would be better. It's just a "phase" right?  And inherent in the understanding of a "phase" is it's short term nature.  Unfortunately, this appears to be a protracted phase in the lives of our children and sadly, one we continue to act out in adulthood as either perpetually wounded victims or callous bullies.

It started right where it left off at the end of fourth grade and also spread to her soccer team.  Somehow there was an awareness that she was a safe target.  Meaning, anyone could bully her, try it out, and not risk retaliation or consequences.  Even girls who the previous year I was fairly certain were excluded themselves, began to turn on her.  It was a bizarre case of "scapegoating" where they would pin all of their failures as a team upon her.  Each would confidently tell her what she did wrong "Nice pass!" (sarcastic, eye-rolling), pushing her physically into position "You are supposed to go here!" (they don't do that to any other girl on the team), criticizing, out loud, every mistake she makes (one girl having missed a shot on goal, then turned to my daughter and yelled, "Pass the ball (says her name)!!" (even though her last contact on the ball was 5 touches ago).  They yell at her "Stop laughing and focus!!"  "I don't like your clothes!"  "I'm going to play that position, you go over there!"

I sat back and watched practice one day, really watched, as objectively as I could.  And I could see it.  It was obvious.  She was the go-to-girl for all of their frustrations the target of their criticism.  They could all make her a worse player then each of them and therefore make themselves feel better.  I said to one parent sitting with me, "I am at a complete loss as to why these girls hate my daughter!"  I spoke with the coach, in general terms, asking if he could discuss team building with the girls, that they should support each other, rather than criticize or belittle each other.  I explained I had noted they were doing that to each other and he replied, "Really?  I hadn't noticed that!"  I thought, he must be deaf and blind, because as I sit here, I see it, I see it all!  He glazed over with the look I have grown to recognize from someone who would rather not deal with this.   I am dismissed as an overprotective parent, the problem, and won't I just please go away?

She LOVES soccer, and began to beg us not to go, to please let her quit.  I would watch her shut down, go limp, stop trying, retreat.  I would have to convince her, coax her into going.  I forced her to go to a place that hurt and demeaned her.  Was that the right thing to do?  Running away has not felt like the right answer.  She needs to develop the tools to handle this foreign world of meanness, because sadly, she will be exposed to it for the rest of her life.

Two weeks ago, she was hit at school.  Slapped across the face, hard, by a fifth grade BOY!  My daughter walked by as the ringleader was kneeling on the back of this boy, pinning him to the ground, exclaiming, "Everyone bow down to me!"  My daughter sarcastically replied, "Yeah, everyone bow down to you!"  The boy leaped up and said, "This is for saying that!"  And slapped her as hard as he could across the face.  Realizing his mistake, he began to run away.  Upset and enraged, my daughter chased him.  He tripped, and she pounced on his back, punching him "five times as hard as I could!"  He cried.  The ringleader ran up and said to my daughter "You don't have to be so mean!  He didn't mean to hit you that hard!" (WTF, right???)

She guiltily told me this story at home.  Ready to apologize for her actions.  I stopped her, and held out my hand for a hi-five.  I said, Guess what will never happen again?  She asked, "What?"  I told her, He will never hit you again.

The more I thought of this, the more it effected me.  How little must these children think of my daughter for a BOY to hit her?  How far could this go?  How embarrassed and hurt she must have felt after he hit her!  That night I lost it.  I cried.  I broke things, hurling them against the wall.   I huddled in a ball and wept for the destruction of my daughter.  I cried for all of her pain.  I cried in hopelessness and anger. What should I do???  Was I doing the right thing or was I allowing my daughter to be damaged in an irreversible way?

We met with the principle.  He called their parents.  The kids met with the principle.  They apologized.  (I never heard a word from his parents by the way.) The end.  But not really...just, Until the Next Time.  I am now paying $120.00 an hour for counselling for my daughter.  The goals of which are to build up her self esteem and confidence again,so that she can stand up for herself. (Thank you mean children, for this.)  I've learned she is more afraid of hurting other's feelings than protecting her own.  I've learned she is timid when expressing what SHE wants. It is fascinating, that she is victimized for caring!

At the beginning of fifth grade, each member of the class is assigned a "job", one they will do for the whole year.  The coveted job is "Teacher's Pet" (not your context, so take that away) where at the end of the day, kids assist the teacher with some random chore.  My daughter was assigned this job and was thrilled.  A boy (ironically, the one who would hit her several months later) cried.  He had wanted that job, and had been assigned the least desirable job of "Floor" (an end of the day picking up of the classroom floor).  Worried for his feelings, and I am sure, hoping to win his friendship, my daughter gave him "Teacher's Pet", and took the "Floor".

I learned of this recently one night, as we ended the day, before bed.  She was sharing her daily schedule with me, ending with her job, "Floor".  I asked her about that job, and she burst out crying.  "I hate floor!", she cried. "I had the best job, and I gave it away!".  I prodded her some, asking her if she thought that by giving the job away she had hoped that this boy would be nicer to her, a better friend.  This incited her to more passionate crying, "He didn't even say Thank you! He didn't invite me to his birthday party! And now I am stuck with "Floor" for the rest of the year!"

I asked her why she had thought that his feelings about the job had been more important than hers?  She could only reply, "He was sad.  He cried!"  My cynical mind imagined this clever fellow understanding how to manipulate her to get the job from her.  After about twenty minutes, I calmed her down, and told her that it was okay to put her feelings first, and that she had gotten the job fairly, and could have kept it without worrying about how upset this might have made him.

It was then I had an idea.  What if I could change the context of the job?  What if I could turn "Floor" into the coolest job in the classroom?  What if I bought an awesome, cool, vacuum?  I got permission from the teacher.  I went shopping and found a super-cool, bright orange, metallic Electrolux complete with a detachable dust buster.  I then donated it to the fifth grade, "Floor" job.  It worked like a charm.

The boy who slapped her , immediately asked her if he could try it.  She said, "No".  (perhaps he'll consider being nicer to her?)  Another boy asked if she would like to trade jobs.  She said, "No thank you."  She beams with pleasure speaking of her job. "Floor is the coolest job!" she gushes happily.  I asked her how it had felt to say no to someone who wanted her job?  She said, "It feels fine."  I reminded her that it was okay to keep this job, and honor her feelings.  She commented in a moment of happiness (ever increasing moments I am happy to report), that "life had seemed so bad a short time ago, but it had gotten better, and I guess that is what life does."

I sure hope so my love.

THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU!!

Photo by Jim Linwood.

Really.  There is nothing wrong with you, and thank God, with me either.  No, I haven't been on a self- help book reading frenzy.   I have recently begun a business leadership training program, motivated by a desire to improve the culture at my office.  Little did I know that this journey would be more about changing me and how I see myself and my future.

The latest seminar (we do one per month for nine months), "Mastering Performance", was put on by Jonathan Clark of Coriolis Consulting 
http://www.coriolisconsult.com/documents/who_we_are.php
I had heard of this class through alums of the program, and it piqued my curiosity.  I was most intrigued by their difficulty in describing what it was actually about.  They said things like, "He helps you figure out what "IT" is", (everyone has an "IT" they tried to explain), and he helps you find yours.  "Well, what is "IT"? I would ask.  "IT's different for everyone", they would say, wrapping up with, "It is an awesome class!!"

How awesome could a class be if nobody could tell me what is was about?  From his own summary of the intentions of the course, Mr. Clark, assures us that he is not there to teach us anything.  Rather, he is acting as a guide or facilitator to help us discover something for ourselves, about ourselves.  (Participants are also required to sign a confidentiality agreement, which might explain some of their vagaries).  The goal of the class is to free you from yourself so that you can live with intention and integrity.  And by golly!  That is exactly what it did!

In short, I have stopped listening to the self-bashing voice in my head, whose chickenshit intentions, keep me from living the life of my choosing.  I have been stuck (like most of us) with an inner dialogue about my reality that is based upon made up fears and perceptions that have trapped me with an assessment of myself that is narrow and confining.

From infinite potential as an infant, we slowly whittle down our options by creating barriers to things we "can't", "shouldn't" and "dare not" be or do.  (Most of which aren't necessary nor related to actual survival) We latch onto negative experiences and create a filter with which to judge and hold back all future experiences that might mildly resemble them.  This can be with situations in life and also with people we meet or interact with on a daily basis.  These filters are used to prevent us from repeating our perceived mistakes (shame filled moments, screw ups, times of hurt, etc), but the consequence of this narrative of self bias (and loathing for many of us) is far reaching, obstructionism in our lives.

Very early in our lives, we learn to cower in the corner, swatting irrationally at things that might (heaven help us!) make us feel the same way again.  As we age, we just hit the "refresh" button to keep these perceptions current. What is so surprising it how truly infantile and non-reality based these self imposed rules are.  We are literally letting a toddler run our lives!!  This toddler, lives in our amygdalas.  This is the primitive part of our brains, designed to be the "negative-nilly", "backseat driver" and "wet blanket" of our lives.

Long ago, in a much different and far away world, this part of our brain was really useful in keeping us out of the jaws of saber tooth tigers.  Unfortunately, it's power to suppress logical thought, did not go extinct alongside these ancient predators.  In our current world, free of many real life and death situations, our amygdalas are satisfied to make scary shit up for us. (Your brain apparently will do this for you, should you happen to be fresh out of fear.)

So, if once upon a time, someone made fun of our most favorite outfit (for me a crushed velvet dress and stiletto heels worn to 6th grade picture day (yes, an odd and overly mature choice, but it was a delightful hand-me-down outfit, that I thought reeked of fabulosity!!))  I realize now, that I decided then and there, under relentless teasing and embarrassment, to never "risk it" again. (Dressing up drew attention and it was much safer to pass under the radar, stay invisible, lest I be shamed again).  I learned that I had no fashion sense and thus framed all future primping from this context, and literally threw my potential as a well dressed and manicured diva out the window (along with the dress and the stilettos) from that one, horrible, ancient picture day moment.

How many irrelevant and stupid moments continue to hold me back from who I can and WANT to be?  Even now, I will find myself dressing up for an evening, eventually undoing  everything, as my inner voice warns me, "You don't know what you are doing!  People will think you look awful!  You will get attention!  You have shitty taste!"  This is a 31 year old amygdala moment continuing to influence my life!!

I remain a work in progress.  I have gained awareness of my inner "saber tooth tigers", and when they start growling at me, from deep within my brain, I am learning to shut them the f&%$# up!!  I am trying to see the world that actually lies in front of me, not the one I created to avoid foolish danger.

What are your vestigial fears?  What don't you do because you have an inner story about yourself that is outdated, wrong and holding you back?  If you are curious about how little of the world you can actually see when you choose to focus from a predetermined context, check out the "Awareness Test" in the following link, it might surprise you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ahg6qcgoay4

Clitoral Management

Photo by CarbonNYC.

"Treat it like the Clitoris!", I admonish my husband as he roughly manhandles a fragile piece of furniture he is assembling.   I realize he is not following the manual...and is using more aggressive tools than seem appropriate.

"Shit!" he exclaims, as he drives a screw in sideways, fracturing the delicate wood.  This will be another "Jerry Rigging" assembly job, patches and fixes employed before the object has ever fully come to life.

"Hmmm", I mumble, my face blanketed by an "I told you so" expression.  "Clitoris", I whisper, softly, making a gentle double mouse-click gesture to emphasize the point.

Treating something like the Clitoris is a way I typically emphasize the need to exercise gentleness when handling situations that require increased sensitivity.  He relates to this instruction due to the "sit on my knee" discussion we once had, early in our relationship, after he had numbed my lady bits with furious stimulation.  He, like many misguided blokes, mistook my apprehensive twitching, for pleasurable reactions.  To be fair, he is not the only man who has seemed at a loss for how to respectfully handle a woman's pleasure hub.  Most men approach it over zealously, much like they might attack a spot in the carpet they are trying to remove.

It is commonly held that we touch each other in a manner we prefer to be touched ourselves.  Based upon this assumption, I have surmised over the years that men must like their penises slapped silly!  I imagine myself, foot wedged upon navel, donning a set of work gloves (to protect against blistering), firmly clasping his male member, as I might a very stubborn and woody weed, grabbing and yanking and pulling until the damn thing comes!  (I get exhausted just thinking about it!)

Early in a sexual relationship, I keenly assess a new lover's general "touch" ability, monitoring for signs of excessive aggression or more desirably, an intuitive silky touch.  If he demonstrates a blind, infuriated groping, I would inwardly cringe when he reached towards my nether regions, fearful for the beating my clitoris was about to be subjected to.  My defenses would immediately trigger, and I would begin to swivel my hips away from his clumsy hands...doing anything to distract him and lead him in a different direction.  "I really get off when you fondle my knee caps!"  I would pant desperately. My mind, reluctantly yanked from sexual revere,  would be thwarted in her pleasurable meanderings, by the need to focus on self preservation.  The odds of me climaxing, despite his most ardor fueled efforts, and persistent manipulation, would move towards zero.

So let's talk frankly about our mutual friend, the Clitoris.  She is an enigma.  At once fleshy and proud, her true self is shy and hidden, preferring her nestled home behind lush, shock absorbing vulvular walls who serve to shelter her from excessive prodding (such as from relentless pounding, super-sonic vibrations, pinching or twisting).  She is twice as sensitive as the penis and inhabited by 8000 nerve endings, more than any other human body part. (See the book, Woman, by Natalie Angier)  (One might imagine that were a blind woman to learn to read Braille with her Clitoris,  it would be comparable to a sighted woman being able to see in the dark!)

Often unappreciated by the unevolved male, the Clitoris can be so sensitive that overly direct stimulation can be uncomfortable.  According to Angier (whose book is a fabulous dissection of the female body), many women tolerate more generalized attention, that is inclusive of the entire pubic mound.  The nervous system tends to modulate sensitivity based upon stimuli, and in instances of over stimulation, it will raise the threshold for feeling, essentially rendering the innocent Clit, numbed and unfeeling.  

Gentle, variety laden play, will yield much more effective results than outright poking.  You must foster trust in touch, which leads to relaxation and sexual openness.  The goal is to touch in such as way as to not distract your partner, as most women require a cerebral connection to orgasm.  If she is distracted, it will be more difficult for her to climax.  Think, trying to fall asleep in a room where every so often someone walks in and screams shrilly.  Not only will you not fall asleep, you will become inpatient and irritated.  If you go too far in your ministrations, you won't be able to pull her back, and she may very well check out of love making.

During intercourse, some amount of clitoral stimulation is often necessary for a woman to climax.  Woman who are most successful in achieving climax, including the coveted multiple orgasm, according to Angier, are fully aware of the best ways to position themselves in relation to a partner for maximal, and appropriate stimulation (girl-on-top is a favorite of these lusty mavens).  Those less likely to climax, she writes, often rely silently on their partners to practice mind reading and demonstrate masterful sexual skill.  

Sadly, many women are as ignorant about the preferences of their Clitoris as their clumsy lovers (also the name of a fun, Canadian, bluegrass band), having never explored possibilities or scenarios to seek out orgasm.  Often guilted into believing that self pleasure is shameful, these women may pass through life never experiencing the mighty "O".  If you are such a woman, please, do yourself a favor and start touching yourself right now! (unless, of course, you are at work).  To be successful, you must guide your mind into desiring the touch...not rejecting it.   Follow the sensation like an itch being delightfully scratched, and let it take over. It will gradually build to a point that you cannot, nor would you want to, back away from it, and soon you will find yourself tumbling and fully absorbed in the warm, pulsing pleasure of your body.  (What an awesome gift!)  If you become overly analytical, you will end up frustrated, and climax will remain elusive.  Let me state emphatically, THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH TOUCHING YOURSELF!   I would even suggest you bring self-touch to the sex act, most especially if your lover proves incompetent or you can't figure out how to get enough stimulation.

So you Clitoral thugs, BACK OFF!  Ask for directions for once in your life, and rely on the expert lying in bed next to you.  Mastering the mystery of this precious gem is time well invested, as it will pay dividends towards your own pleasure, motivating your partner to seek you out more often to help guide her to the summit.  Fail to, and she will turn to a trusty vibrator, and her back towards you!

Blog in Brief: Is it Safe to Go to the Movies, Mom?

Photo by whiteafrican.

"Murderers don't go to children's movies!" I blurted out, shocked that my seven year old son had just asked me if there might be a murderer at the movie theater we were headed to.  We were off to see "ParaNorman-3D" ($3Bucks) and out of the blue, he started to ask if we would be safe.  

Recovering somewhat, I added in a "don't-be-silly-tone", "There won't be a murderer at the movie theater, Honey."  I  can't believe I just said that sentence! 

"But how do you know for sure, Mom?" I watched him nervously in the rear view mirror, wondering how much this was effecting him.  I realized he was not going to let this rest.  He was genuinely worried about our safety.  How was I supposed to answer this question?  How different is the world that he is growing up in, that he has to worry whether or not some maniac might open fire on him...at the movies, at the mall, at school??

"Bad people like that are very rare, and those things don't happen very often,"  I began.  Hoping not to create more fear I added, "Sometimes airplanes crash, but we still go on them.  These accidents don't happen very often and we know that almost all of the time, we will be safe."  This placated him a little, but I could still see the possibility of being attacked at the movie theater was worrying him.   My mind was racing.  How far was the right distance to travel with this subject?

I began to wonder whether it was my duty to give him the knowledge and tools to handle a shooting situation.  It worried me to discuss this in detail, lest I turn him into a fearful and paranoid individual.  I still believe these episodes are unlikely to ever happen to us... Could the frequency of these episodes continue to increase and actually become part of his future reality and something he would have to be on the lookout for?  Was teaching my child how to protect himself in this kind of situation now a necessary part of parenting?

I had recently watched a video that was chain-mailed to me, called "Run Hide Fight: Surviving an Active Shooter Event" available on YouTube on the following link: 

https://www.google.com/search?q=run+hide+fight+you+tube&sugexp=chrome,mod=13&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

At first I was skeptical about watching it...worrying it was just a gun rights promo video.  Afterwards however, I was glad that I had, and yet saddened that such a video needed ever have been made.  This viral video presents a graphic dramatization of a public shooting incident that provides guidance about what to do if you should ever, God forbid, find yourself in a situation such as this. Armed with this information, I decided to take the discussion with my son one step further, and actually review what he should do in the event of a shooting.

"What do you think you should do if there ever was someone with a gun at the movies?" I asked, monitoring his reaction in the mirror. 

"RUN!"  he stated confidently.

"That's right!" I replied.  "Would you stand up and run?"  I tested.

"No, I would get down low!"  he said defiantly.  

"If it wasn't safe to run, would you hide?" I asked, feeling more at ease with the conversation.  He seemed to feel better knowing we were making a plan.

"Yes," he agreed.

We further discussed that it was most important to make himself safe first and to be Super-Spy quiet.  We discussed calling for help and warning other people, much like it is reviewed in the video.   

As we arrived at the theater, his questions had ceased.  Perhaps he believed that there would be no gunman after all or perhaps he felt safer knowing that we knew how to handle it if there was.  I hoped I had handled this properly.  I hoped I'd risen to this unexpected motherly challenge.  I hoped we would be safe...

Cultural Enlightenment

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

A Vagina by Any Other Name

Black Orchid, Georgia O'Keefe Photo by ahisgett.

Vagina.  That word.  It is evoked rarely in conversation and when it is, it is spoken hesitantly, uncomfortably, most often reserved for the privacy of the doctor's office...you know, (said in a hushed whisper) the one with the stirrups.  Vagina as a name doesn't feel right, like the word is completely wrong for what it is meant to describe. Like when you meet someone whose name does not seem to match their personality.  Say a Frank who looks more like a Sam or a Jane who should have been a Kate.  Names can personify the very people or things they are attached to.  They can evoke a clear image of the essence of a "thing"...in the case of the "V" word, the name choosers missed the mark.

When I hear the word "Vagina" I think of secret things, dark and unspeakable things.  The word is rugged, mountainous, full of jagged consonants that create the image of harsh and inhospitable terrain.   "Gentlemen, I must warn you, keep your wits about you whence you enter the territory of the Vagina.  None but the bravest among you shall return!"  Only Borat's pronunciation, in the movie of the same name, "Vagine" (said with a soft, reverential french accent) can repair the brutishness of the word.

So turned off are we by this word, we as a culture manipulate it, change it, to cuter, more palatable words that are less populated with unfriendly "v's" and "g's".   Perhaps this word has tolerated too many negative stereotypes over time...perhaps as a woman, when I hear that word I am reminded of them and the insecurities that go along with them...the doctor's probing.  It makes sense that the name for this incredible and sought after body part was provided by men from a long lost time...the same men who believed the uterus floated about the female body (settling in the location of a given women's malady) and that the same uterus were it starved of sustenance (semen) (how clever these men were!), would cause female hysteria to set in.   Their distaste and primness haunts the word to this day!

In Latin, Vagina, which originated somewhere in the late 1600's, means "sheath" or "scabbard" (something one would slide a knife or sword into when they were done killing people)...a wrap around storage device if you will.  It is thought to have been considered slang in those days, eventually moving to formal adoption in later years.  If we prefer the botanical origination, it perhaps evokes greater grace and beauty, as the point at the base of a leave where it joins the stem of the plant.

Like a park whose namesake is long dead, this body part is overdue for renaming!  I propose therefore, that we rename the vagina using a much more palatable word.  A softer more equivocal word...resonate of the best virtues this blessed body part possesses.  One less likely to be avoided in polite conversation.  One we would speak openly, happily, so loving the word, we might even overuse it.   It must evoke pleasurable feelings like the word "Chocolate" or comfort like we feel uttering, "Fuzzy Slippers".  The mere mention of the word should relax us and remind us of all the good things the vagina does, not all the icky things historically associated with it.

Here is a sampling of the new names I pondered:

1.  Shenis:  Like the male counterpart, but more obviously female.
2.  Lovey:  Like the security blanket of small children, what greater comfort could a word connote?
3.  Missliscious:  Takes away the "ick" factor.
4.  Cozylala:  Warm and whimsical at the same time, like a feminine protection commercial.
5.  Delores:  A cousin for Clitoris.
6.  Excipite:  Welcome! in Latin.
7.  Pulchra:  Beautiful in Latin. (There were so many other positive Latin names available!)

As I pondered all of these possibilities, trying hard to stay away from common slang or terms with negative connotation, (I admit it was difficult to find a word that embodied the plethora of characteristics I was trying to capture), I considered linguistic origin, consonant structure and the myriad of other traits a word might present when mouthed.  The more I thought, the more one name kept returning to my mind.  I dismissed it at first, but the thought grew persistent, and thus it gradually began to grow on me.  This name is currently possessed by an embodiment of the feminine.  At once strong and independent with a balance of softness and invitation.

"Scarlett Johansson"

What do you think?? Isn't it perfect! Try it on for size...say it a few times and feel how easily it rolls off your tongue.  Scarlett...synonymous with color, vibrant and lively red.  Johansson, sister of Johnson, Hairy if you will.  There is strength of will and infinite delicacy bundled into perfect harmony with this simple name.  Imagine if your gynecologist were to say, "I shall now insert the speculum into your Scarlett Johansson.".  I can imagine myself more able to relax, my knees falling open.  Or if your lover were to utter, "Darling...may I touch your Scarlett Johansson?"  I would be unable to resist so imbued with sexuality and femininity is the name.

I am not sure how we would go about an official name change...a vote might be required.  If we were to, en masse, start using the word more commonly, it might kick start the wheels of change, and our blessed nether regions would finally have a name worthy of all of her ethereal charms.

Rumor Has It....

Photo by ohai_spackwood.

I am still reeling from the news today.  I just found out that I am getting divorced.  I admit, we've had our fair share of ups and downs and Lord knows our marriage is far from perfect (who's is?)...but this, this literally has knocked the wind out of me!  How had this happened...where had we gone wrong?   And why God, why is it that the wife...and the husband too in this case...are the last ones to know?  

Here we were, blissfully enjoying our Cape Cod vacation, when my husband received an email from a mutual friend.  She had been at a party whereupon someone asked her if the news was true, were my husband and I getting divorced?  She had shared that to her knowledge all was well, but warned us, we might have some damage control to do when we got home.

"Why would someone think that?", I asked my husband, growing suspicious that there might be an inkling of truth to what she had heard.  "What have you been up to?" I knew he had been spending a lot of time with attorneys lately.

"I bitch about you from time to time," he said, whilst assuring me that the word "divorce" had not been uttered.  He sat contemplating his bitch sessions, trying to pin point which one of the apparent multitude could have triggered such a rumor.  It appeared that the information about our divorce had originated on the golf course among guys that my husband plays men's club with.

Silently I reviewed all of the bad things about our relationship I had shared with friends.  Maybe it came from some of those conversations.  I made a mental note to cool down the husband bashing.  I was pretty sure I could count on my confidantes not to spread my rants publicly, so I started to eye my husband curiously.  Could he be secretly contemplating divorce?  "Are you sure there isn't something I should know?" I pressed.

At that moment, his phone rang.  It was a fellow my husband golfs with, and this gentleman had felt compelled to call, as he stood on the first tee box on men's day to verify whether or not we were divorced.  He had heard about it too! According to the caller, we were already divorced (shock) and my husband had run away with another woman to a neighboring golf  course community (disbelief).  What?  In a matter of hours the story of our collapsing marriage had us fully unhitched and my husband happily upgrading to a wealthy broad at a private golf course!  It was appearing more and more likely that the story of our divorce had originated from someone in my husband's circle.  I was immensely curious as to what he may have said to foster such a tale?

My husband assured the caller that we were not divorced at this time and that we were still somewhat happily married.  He informed him that, no, unfortunately, he did not have a new girl friend.  The fellow thanked my husband for his straight forward answers about our non-divorce and suggested he tell me, to enhance the quality of the rumor, that his new, richer girlfriend was also extremely HOT.  

Wait a minute!  I thought, If anyone was going to run away with a rich, hot, somebody, it was going to be me!!  

Since we heard about our divorce, we have been moving from looking sideways at each other to joking about the fun we could have playing it up.  I vacillate between wondering if my husband is unhappy with our marriage and inadvertently spilled his guts to some guys at the golf course bar after a few beers to imagining the effect it would have were I to throw his golf clubs and some random clothes onto our front lawn.  Wouldn't it be fun to stir the rumor mill into a frenzy?

Despite his assurances that he has no intention of divorcing me I can't help but wonder if it is possible that he has a girl friend I don't know about?  Was he setting me up for a fall?  Weren't rumors often twisted versions of the truth?  Who could have spoken so confidently that our marriage was over if they didn't have some information that was strong enough to compel them to throw it into the gossip mill?

Part of me is flattered that my little life seemed interesting enough to distort and hash around at a dinner party.  I am curious who else might come forward with questions about the health of our marriage.  How deeply has this thread been woven into the fabric of our social circle?

Part of my mind explores this story as if it were reality.  What if my husband did want to leave me?  Would he be justified?  Have I been my best for him...he for me?  Is my life better by being with him and vice verse?  I started to review my wifely performance and in reality, it hasn't been that hot lately...he could be justified to want out...to find what is lacking between us with somebody else.  How easy it would be to move away from each other and the complicated lives that accompany our marriage into something new and simple.  

I look back to when we were first together and what made me love him...what now I try to change.  Do we still love each other after all of these years?  Are our lives what we hoped they would be?  Do I complete him...(ack!)  I ask myself these questions...and I am surprised to realize he might be asking himself these questions too.

Sometimes in relationships one partner might think they have the upper hand...the least risk, the most security.  Often those who assume that confident role are the ones who have the rug pulled out from under them, when the one they took for granted, chooses to go.  Could that be what is happening?  Have I been busy assuring myself that any problems we might have are his and not mine?  Perhaps that attitude itself has contributed to this story...the initiate.  Will we choose to rewrite the story and better our characters so that we can undo the thread? 

I guess we'll keep listening...keep questioning.  Thank you rumor mill for this food for thought.  I know at least that I can breathe easy for now...my marriage intact, my husband still with me and not with some new and better woman.  I'll hold on tightly to that for now and listen closely tomorrow for the latest word on the street.