Breaking out of the victim shell

Kame is getting ready for hibernation. Being a wild-caught turtle, he doesn't understand concepts like base board hot-water heating and full-spectrum UVB lighting. He's doing what comes naturally, burrowing deep to hide from the upcoming winter.

Ever have one of those days? You know the ones... when nothing seems to go right... when the entire world seems to be against you, and all you want to do is pull yourself into your shell and hide?

I've had a year like that.

It would be easy for me to pull into the Victim shell, to build myself a fortress of self-righteous anger from which I can point my finger and blame my husband for everything that's gone wrong. I could stomp and toss my head and cry... And sometimes I do. Some days it seems as if I'll never stop crying. Self pity is an intoxicating drug, insinuating its way into my system, dulling my senses, easing the pain, and stealing my energy, strength and motivation.

And so we come to the second rule of a healthy marriage: Your sense of self-worth can not come from your partner. For too long, I looked to Ken for approval. If he came home in a bad mood, I assumed I had done something wrong. If he were unhappy, I was unhappy. If something was bothering him, I jumped to the conclusion that it was somehow connected to me, that I had done something to upset the balance of his universe.

I made it my duty to keep him happy, and when I wasn't able to keep him happy, resentment began to grow. I was working so hard for his sake, why wasn't he appreciative? Why wasn't he praising my efforts, why wasn't he loving me the way I thought I should be loved?

I was putting pressure on him, on our children, on myself, to preform the dance of a happy family the way I thought it should be choreographed, and when one of us was out of step I became angry, sullen and resentful. For Ken's part, he began to withdraw, spending more and more time away from us, pouring more and more of himself into his volunteer work, his hobbies and his job. Communication between us became more and more terse and tense. Intimacy became stilted, and I began to feel suffocated.

I can't imagine what Ken was feeling during that time. Anger? Resentment? The same stifling pressure that was stealing the very breath from my life? All of the above, I'm sure.

We were on a one-way trip to disaster, and hibernation was looking better and better every day. Thankfully, God had other plans.

Life, unexpected

"Whatchoo lookin' at, Pussycat?"

I adore this picture of Kame, and our daughter's cat, Tat. She was curious, and Kame, well, he's being his usual unflappable self. Nothing seems to disturb this little turtle. He is fearless.

A popular country song suggests "If you're goin' through Hell, keep on goin', don't slow down, if you're scared, don't show it... You might get out before the Devil even knows you're there."

Sometimes life throws us for a loop. We're suddenly presented with something so big, so frightening, there is no natural response. All we can do is stare it down, and hope we can bluff our way through.

In the past ten years, Ken and I have faced down a tornado that destroyed our neighbor's home and dropped a tree on our roof, our kids having trouble in school, leading to a year's suspension for our fourth-grader and major health issues which have necessitated sweeping changes in our lifestyle.

It's little wonder, under such assaults, that we began to come apart at the seams. With Ken's election as Fire Chief for our local volunteer department, two kids with seemingly continuous appointments, practices and meetings and my own dedication to becoming a published author, we were wearing thin. The stitching that held our marriage together was beginning to unravel, and we were falling apart.

We forgot, for a time, the first rule in marriage: Turn upward and inward in the face of adversity. No matter what it is you're facing down, nothing, and I mean nothing, is more important than your relationships, first with God and second with your spouse. Never forget that this person is your partner, your team mate, your support system. You promised "for better or for worse". Unfortunately the worse comes harder and faster than you can imagine, and if you're unprepared, it can sweep you off your feet.

When Ken and I faced a new threat, it nearly broke us apart. Rumors were flying around the fire department, that he was stepping out with a young volunteer who happened to be our long-time babysitter.

I found the stories laughable. I've known the young woman for most of her life. I was (and still am) confident that he thinks of her as a sort of surrogate daughter, not a potential fling. Infidelity was the last thing I was afraid of. I thought my marriage was on solid ground, that despite our troubles we were committed and had been in love, and would be again. I believed the chaos of raising children was temporary. I believed that the history we'd built over the first fourteen years of marriage would be enough to keep us together. I was deep in Egypt, lounging along the proverbial river.

Ken was not having an affair with our babysitter. He's made mistakes, as have I, but his heart is strong, and loyal. He's often flippant in conversation, leading people who don't know him well to assume his values are less-than solid. The truth is, he's a passionate man who gives his all to the things he believes in. Once upon a time, he believed in me, in our marriage, our family and our future together. When that belief wavered, life came crashing down around us.

The house of cards has collapsed, but almost a year later, we are rebuilding. The process has been long and painful and it's not over yet. We have a long way to go before our marriage can be called truly healthy, but we'll keep on going.

We will face this, and all our Devils, and we will get out alive.

Introducing Kame

Meet Kame. (Pronounced 'Kah-may')
Handsome little guy, isn't he? Kame is my Eastern Box Turtle. Or rather, I should say, I am his human. We've been cohabiting now for an entire season.

More than through the a passing of Spring to Summer, and entering into the early part of Fall, Kame has accompanied me through a season of life, and has become intertwined with my journey in ways I never expected.

In May 2010, my husband Ken traveled over twenty hours to go on a hunting trip, because the turkeys in the midwest are, by some estimation only understood by avid (obsessive!) turkey hunters, superior to the turkeys here in Upstate New York.

Box turtles are common where Ken was hunting that week. He'd seen several around the lodge before he found Kame bumping along the edge of the door. When he opened it to see who was knocking so insistently, Kame came right in and made himself at home. Knowing how much I adore turtles, Ken decided to make this determined little guy a part of our family.

Ordinarily Ken and I are adamantly against removing an animal from the wild. Wild-caught animals often do poorly in captivity, and it's cruel to take them from the environment they're familiar with because it's difficult to give them everything they're used to in a captive situation. Kame, however, is more than just a "cool animal" that Ken brought me home as a pet. He was a peace offering, a gift of understanding and acceptance from my husband. His entrance into our lives represented a small step on the journey we've been on this past year, toward reconciliation, rebuilding and healing after the near-disintegration of our marriage.

I hope to record, in this blog, some of our story, interspersed and intertwined with tales of my favorite fictional Turtles and snippets of day to day life, with all its messy, chaotic joy.

I once reviewed a book that opened this way:

“I found a pen; another person found a scrap of paper; a third person, the words. “Dead End,” we wrote and left it on the side of the road for the next traveler to find and perhaps turn around in time.” -For Sarah, by Annie Harmon

This year, conversing with friends through various media, I have become convinced that in writing notes for others, we begin to understand our own journeys. Perhaps, through these musings we might travel together for a time, and learn from one another along the way.