Wednesday, September 2, 2009

D Day

The beginning of February arrived, and with it, the due date the Prof was going to pack up and leave. The day before this all was due to happen, the children had still not been told (this was completely the wrong approach – I found out later).

I felt very strongly in my heart that it was the Professor’s problem to tell the children, since he was moving out. I did not want to have anything to do with the process.

The evening before the moving day, I cried my heart out. I asked him again to reconsider his decision.

Here are some pieces taken from my journal at the time:

10 Feb 2007
Today, the Prof was going to leave. He had a garden flat booked, and was going to tell the children at 10. Last night, I cried, and told the Prof what I thought. I told him that he is repeating his father’s mistakes, he is sacrificing the children as well as me, that I had prayed for him my whole life, he is the one God chose for me, how much the children love him and are excited when he comes home, and how I look all around me and it’s not worth anything without him.

He was very upset that I felt the way I did. His attitude softened. This morning we talked some more and he decided not to leave today. He still has the option for the flat, but has delayed his decision. I don’t know if I did a good thing to “persuade” him. I felt – give it one more try, perhaps there is still hope. While there is still a flicker of hope – for the kid’s sake, try.

I told the Professor that I need 100% from him. The reason he felt better after making the decision to go, was because it was a 100% decision. He is unable to make that same decision for us.

Tonight we talked more and I realise more than ever that we are at the same impasse as before. He cannot see the way forward with me. I asked him what that “wall” was, and initially he said he didn’t know. At some point he became angry about things from the past i.e. my hair, that I didn’t appreciate his cooking, how I dressed etc. I suddenly got such an insight about it all. For me they were just cosmetic issues, for him they became hurts for which he needs to forgive me. I asked his forgiveness – but I can see that he can’t forgive me about it yet.

Later still, he spoke about the Cream Puff. She came at a time where we were at a bad place. He didn’t go looking for it, but in a very short space of time he fell in love with her. He realises that the chances for her and him to work might be unrealistic, but it does hold out a possibility. THAT is why he cannot see the way forward with us – she is the “wall”. He is so confused about everything. He doesn’t know if we will work, if they could work and in this situation, the only way he knows to choose, is to choose against what makes him unhappy – to choose what is the truth for him.
I also realized something else, he cannot commit to me, because in a way, he would be being “untrue” to the Cream Puff, “untrue” to the new “self” he is discovering.

Tonight, as this all was going on, Nan phoned and said – DON’T GIVE UP, then Karen phoned and said – DON’T GIVE UP.

So, God’s message for Today: DON’T GIVE UP.

Here ends the journal piece. Pretty insightful stuff about where I was. I read it now and stand over myself in my mind's eye, with my hands on my hips, shaking my head and going tsk tsk tsk - don't do it girl- don't apologise for who you are. Ha - the gift of hindsight!

So … For NOW - he is staying.

2 comments:

  1. This is very transparent, honest and deep. It's almost easier reading something lighter which makes fun of their nicknames or something. But this is powerful. I don't think you need regret apologising either - "Peacemakers who sow in peace raise a harvest of righteousness James 3:18". That's what you were doing!

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  2. Thanks Joan. You are right. Thinking about it last night I realised something. Rather apologise a 100 times too many, than 1 times too few. That one time too few, may be the loss of a precious friendship.
    I thought long about this piece. It is not a fun part of the story to tell. But it is crucial to showing where I came from - the depths and darkness of those days where overwhelming.

    Luckily I speak only of distant memories now. If not for my journals, I wouldn't even have been able to describe them in this detail.

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