Chapter 28. Therapy

Another August 1998 assignment from Maureen is to personify the alcohol - if that drink could talk to me and tell me what it will do for me, what would it say?   

It’d say:

·          “If you quickly drink me down, I’ll give you a tingle, a sweet warm sensation that quickly relaxes you and cheers you.

·          I will decrease your internal discomforts, and give a feeling of pleasure by a fast outpouring of feel-good neurotransmitters.

·          I’ll help you release the day’s tensions; I’ll be reward for the hard work you’ve done all day or week or month. I’ll make ordinary, even tiresome chores more fun since you’ll feel looser and not so pressured or irritable.

·          I will make you more daring and make you feel sexier; give you a liquid makeover from the inside out, a fluidity that you don’t usually have because you’re so uptight, give you a “psychic flight.”

·          I’ll give you relief....sober is dry and uptight, drunk is fluid and liquid and loose - a freedom, giddy and light.

·          I will make you happier with yourself, sending the ‘old self’ away. I will help you forget that you have to do it ‘right’; I’ll give you escape - permission (by taking away some of your inhibitions) to express your anger more readily, to be more seductive or ‘naughty.’

·          I will erase (for a short time) your fears of not doing it right or not being perfect; your fears of being a defective daughter, wife, mother, person; of being rejected or not loved and then abandoned and lonely.

But since I know you want the whole truth, I (alcohol) will also tell you that

·          I’ll also cause you to forget much of what was said or done after you take in some ounces of me. You may have great sex, but you won’t remember. You may say something hurtful in your looseness, but you won’t know that it’s even affected Gregg.

·          I’ll make you ‘messy’ - with foggy eyes, slurred speech, impaired movement, careless words. 

·          I will eventually alienate you from Gregg, causing a lack of respect, causing him to pull away.

·          I’ll cause a built up of toxins in your body, that kill some brain cells, that make you feel muddle-headed in the morning, that tax your liver, that cause depletion of serotonin and other neurotransmitters contributing to a greater depression.

·          I will prevent you from being alive with emotion and from finding resolve, letting you dull pain, fear, and rage.

·          I’ll cause you to postpone squarely facing your pain. I’ll give you a way to self-medicate and put off going to God for your deep yearnings. I will get between you and God, make you feel guilty for going to ‘wine’ instead of Spirit for filling; in fact, I’ll be the substitute so that it hardly occurs to you that there’s any other way, and you won’t have reason or need to learn what the filling of the Holy Spirit is about.

 

And in late August, while hurting and feeling alone, and after thinking and praying long, I appreciate this vision: a picture of largess.

Friday, August 21, 1998

Picture: My large place with you....a plateau of low-growing, wonderfully scented herbs, that release their sweet scents when stepped on (or danced on :)), no muck anywhere in sight, severe clear with dazzling sun, babbling brook of clear, refreshing water tumbling in small falls (one side of this plateau has a rising cliff-like edge) so that quiet pervades with background of moving water sounds. 

We dance, slow at first; you hold me Jesus and pull me in close.  You desire me, I’m your bride. You delight in me, you enjoy me. We swing sometimes, and the movement is so fun and rhythmic, the music from within (You or me, I can’t tell, we’re as one) and uninterrupted. I simply follow your lead, and am so happy to have that lead…

Only in You is my soul at rest; there is no Rock, or fortress; no other entity that will love me always, be my refuge and strength, my tender companion, my faithful lover, my rest, quiet, trust, comfort and confidence.

Therapy sessions happen every other week or so, most often with some time talking as a couple, and also some individual time for us each with Maureen. 

During a September individual session, I explore feelings

·         of inferiority (compared to Allure especially: still there’s an irrational envy of her thighs),

·         of unimportance (with Gregg especially, in that he would pursue another woman), and

·         of being a non-person, or person dismissed.

A first memory comes to mind: the picture of mom shushing me during nap time and me crying myself back to sleep because I couldn’t get up from my nap.

Another memory comes of my mom saying to someone (a sister, or a friend of hers? Not sure who but somehow it got back to me), “What was she thinking?” after she was called by Seth to come to our Storm Lake house to address a question of his. I was away from my three older children at a friend’s house receiving shower gifts for baby Dan. I realize later that my choice to leave the kids with a 7-year old was not wise, but at the time I felt I had no other choice. (Seth really was amazingly capable and responsible; also I think I had asked Mom if she could watch the kids during the baby shower, but she said she had a conflict.)

“What’s the matter with her?” rather summarizes the sense I have of how Mom felt about me, probably/maybe both my mom and dad? Like there is something wrong with me.  Which easily contributes toward my sense of feeling that I really am inadequate, a stupid daughter, a bad wife, a flawed friend, a defective person. 

SHAME.

Maureen urges me to fight hard against numbing out. After a session, Gregg and I talk on the way home.

Gregg said, “So, for you, it’s either pain or numb.”

I half-jokingly, rather more seriously said, 

“You mean, there’s another choice?!”

Either ‘numb’ or ‘pain; is certainly the lesson that I learned growing up.

“The only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” 

-Marcel Proust

I record our work in therapy – a healing of memory.

September 19, 1998

As Maureen leads me to think about Jesus coming into the situation of the little girl napping, I picture Him coming alongside of me, touching me, drying my tears and talking softly to me, saying something like “what’s the matter...you want to get up?... I can understand that, little people are full of energy! But your momma is tired and needs to sleep some more, so I’ll lay here beside you and we’ll talk....what have you been doing these days?  Riding your trike in the basement, that sounds fun....yep, I’ve been going around the world checking up on all my little girls... do you know that I love you? I do - you are so precious to me, there is no one just like you... I made you, do you know that? I wanted you from the beginning, and I know you and want you to know Me and how much I love you.”

A little bit later Maureen encourages me to envision Jesus leading me out of bed; upon imagining approaching my mom, consider what I’d do. I speculate I’d just plead with my mom for some recognition of my desire to get up, hoping for some words of comfort and empathy. 

Maureen has a couple of different pictures: maybe I’d throw water at my mom to wake her, or pllling my tongue at her to say “look at me, I’m out of bed!” Those would not be my usual gotta-be-nice responses, but I sense such a freedom in actions such as those. At the end of the therapy session, Maureen reminds me of the possibility of “getting out of bed.” I respond with obvious excitement in my voice and body, 

“Really? I get to get out of bed!!??!!” 

I feel excited about not being shushed, about being able to grow up and act adult, about not comparing myself with anyone else or living by anyone else’s rules or desires.

Chapter 27. Rebuilding

~~

Love is our true destiny. 

We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - 

we find it with another. 

- Thomas Merton

Gregg and I continue to grunt and groan in our attempts to communicate.

August 17, 1998

Gregg and I keep plowing forward. We had another confrontational talk Friday and Saturday....but we talked through it. I was telling him how so many things remind me of them (of he and Allure together), even whenever I kiss him (because early on I asked some pointed questions and found out that Allure was a teasing kind of kisser, no tongue most of the time, and I got the impression that Gregg kinda liked that... even when casually kissing I sometimes touch his lips with my tongue... and so I started paying attention as to whether he ever initiated something similar...it seemed to me that he didn't... I've started kissing him differently at times...thinking that's what he desires).

Gregg asserts that I’ll attribute any change that he’s made in the past two years to the affair. I agree that will be my tendency and that I’ll need him to explain to me otherwise. I tell him that I’m sorry, but I feel I can’t believe everything he says. That I know it really grieves him (but he knows too it’s a consequence of lying so grossly to me). That out of extreme hurt I am likely not hearing everything he says now. I hope he can be patient with me.

He also said that I kiss better and do sex better than Allure. I told him thanks for telling me - and that that was the first I'd heard that, and that of course, I wondered whether sex was better with her (I still can think that at times the passion and illicitness of the sex they had was mind-boggling, sin can be incredibly enticing at times...but I believe him when he says – at least maybe in general - that sex is better with me...when something is right, it has a certain sweet satisfaction).

We have another counseling session tomorrow - we're going to start to work more on relational areas (we've mostly worked on individual root problems up to now). I'm so grateful for the input of a discerning, Spirit-filled therapist - it's an answer to prayer! (even though we do have to pay mega-bucks! ;l)

I journal as I think over one of my August assignments from counselor Maureen: to be aware of how Gregg communicated his needs before all this other yuk.

August 20, 1998

How did Gregg communicate any of his need/dissatisfaction before all the Allure stuff? If not with words, then how?

It’s still hard for me to sift through what is just his mannerisms and what is a message for me to pick up on, but here are some guesses at possibilities:

-- retreating to passive activity, i.e., TV because he wouldn’t have to talk, or think?

-- finding some satisfaction/approval with fantasy/porn

-- not initiating much conversation about his personal concerns or fully engaging in conversation, giving me the impression that he’d rather not be talking: by giving short answer, not reciprocating the question, some facial grimacing or sighing?

-- just ‘not doing’ some of the things I’d suggest as ideas, or not discuss them with me; he wouldn’t disagree, just wouldn’t do

-- gaining “space” by letting me or encouraging me to imbibe

-- taking time away from family pressures, by fishing, doing some side job work; maybe looked for affirmation in the side job work

-- really getting into some areas apart from me...designing furniture (occasionally with Allure); pursuing idea of own business (though I think that was after initial involvement with Allure)

-- un-involvement with T-Net (church program) though it seemed he supported my involvement with it

-- criticism toward pastor while I supported the pastor’s work?

-- seemingly not as much interest in spiritual things?

I muse that – even though Gregg still expressed affection, a desire to please, and a willingness to allow me to pursue my interests – it appears Gregg wasn’t feeling fully accepted, that he felt I wanted him to change: maybe especially the way he did spiritual life (devos, or lack thereof, with kids or for himself). I wonder if his struggle with porn stems from finding pleasure in being able to be just the person he wants to be in that fantasy world: fully appreciated and loved. I realize that Allure maybe offered that to him. She thought he was incredible. I can understand the draw of affirmation and attention; being thought of as “one in a million.” While he was feeling defective around me, he felt empowered, appreciated, and magnificent around Allure.

More August 20 journaling:

I am trying to face up to that idea that I didn’t make him feel like a man in some big ways.

o    That my pride and my need for ‘perfection’ from self and those around me - and my expression of ‘just one more thing’ or that there’s always something more to strive for - tired him out, discouraged him, took all the wind out of his sails, conveyed a disrespect and unacceptance of his person.

o    So, that when someone else offered an appreciation of his person and an escape from the ordinary, it was enough of an attraction to take him away.

o    Also, I realize that he tired of feeling like his efforts to be all that he thought I needed him to be were never enough (and I know that despair, just recently feeling it).

o    And that he tired of my depressive tendencies, of trying to cheer me and not being successful (in the long run), and maybe tired of me needing him so (comments like ‘don’t you dare die first, I’ll be so mad,’ or ‘I couldn’t manage without you’).

I can feel like David writes about - like my insides are melted...so distraught and devastated.

The deceit and betrayal, and that he loved another woman so, tears me apart.

How can I not feel rejected? I have been rejected....

But not by You Lord.

Oh, help me to remember that. You will never leave me nor forsake me, you have set my feet in a large place (Ps 18:19, 31:8, 118:5)

Oh God, you have brought me to freedom! Freedom from idolizing my husband, freedom from the chains of sin and trying to please myself or others. Help me remember. Spirit fill ‘to all fullness’.

And when they ask us what we’re doing, you can say, We’re remembering.

That’s where we’ll win out in the long run.” 

- P 164, Farenheit 451

Chapter 26. We work

Ed Appleseth

To do what needs to be done – to work – is likely part of my genetic structure. I come from an upline of business owners and farmers, pioneers and homesteaders. I offer a few of their stories. [There are many more accessible via our ancestry.com trees.]

On my dad’s (George) side:

- George’s father: Edward Appleseth established a produce business in Clarkfield, MN in 1918 – at the ripe age of 25 years old -  that he continued to operate until he died in 1955. Ed homesteaded for a couple of years in northern Minnesota before settling down in the produce plant. 

A 1951 Clarkfield Advocate full-page ad reveals, "In the early days the present produce station housed the egg and poultry business, along with the tire vulcanizing and sales service... Where the present Jean and Walt's cafe is location was in the beginning used for the cream station... James operates the Produce plant and, at present, George does the trucking, but plans to attend college this fall. Roy is in charge of the farm near Boyd." 
Aunt Jean commented, “other people would go to church, talk politics, watch baseball games; not the Appleseths, they were all work, work, work.”

- George’s grandparents: “The Appelseth story: A time of pioneering” is told in a centennial special article of the Clarkfield Advocate. It was written in 1984 by Inga (Mrs. Russell Johnson), the youngest child of Johan (1859-1930) and Johanna (1860-1912), who immigrated from Norway to America in spring of 1884.

Their life adventure involves a three-week steamboat trip, arrival at Ellis Island, travel to Chicago, and then on to Minnesota. Next up was work as a farm hand and carpenter for Johan and as a household laborer for Johanna, with marriage in fall of 1884. Residence at Johan’s brother Ole’s place followed until they could purchase land, first 40 acres and later 80 acres at $9 an acre. There was the building of a sod dug-out and barn next, followed by eventual pay-as-you-go five-bedroom wood house three miles south of Clarkfield. They made their own farming implements; Johan raised chickens and cows and did the field work, walking behind a horse-drawn cultivator or walking plow.

Johanna spun wool fleece into yarn, knitted socks and mittens, cooked for her family and the threshing teams, butchered cows and pigs and chickens. Together they birthed 11 children, 5 of whom grew to adulthood. 
Inga concludes the article with “Our parents were sustained by their faith, and in spite of their hardships, they looked forward to a brighter future for their children.”

On my mom’s (Adeline) side:

George Hubbard house, Wethersfield 1637

 -Adeline’s great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather: Way, way back in the Puritan days, George Hubbard (1594-1683, my 9^th great grandfather) and wife Mary (Bishop, {1605-1676}, married in 1624 or 1627) immigrated from England with their two children Mary and John (John is my ancestor, born circa 1630 or 1633), to the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1633. More of their story can be read here. In short, they traveled inland, endured a bitter cold winter and subsisted on acorns and malt and grain. George surveyed the Wethersfield area in 1639 and ultimately purchased land for Wethersfield from the Indian chief Sowheag of the Mattabsestts, Wongunks  or Blackhills Indians in 1639 (signed confirmation of the purchase on 16 June 1665 in Guilford, CT). George settled in Milford, CT in 1639, moving in 1650 to Guilford. CT.

Adolph Hartfiel, 1865-1939

-Adeline’s grandfather: Adoph Hartfiel (1865-1939, my great grandfather) came to America with his parents in May 1873. His family lived on a farm in Faribault County, MN until May 1878, when they moved to Yellow Medicine County. The year before, Adolph's father, Wilhelm. had visited the county and filed homestead claims. Grandma tells the story of Wilhelms’s three sons –

Emil Hartfiel, 1861-1891

Emil, Adolph (both eventually husband to Emma, my great grandmother), and Theodore – while in their early to late teens, lived in separate shanties one winter to be able to keep adjacent homestead claims. The neighbor ladies baked bread for them. Tougher times were just ahead. In the fall of 1880 “one of the famous prairie fires swept over the vicinity and destroyed all the possessions of the Hartfiels except the house. During the “snow winter” the family ran short of provisions and like many of their neighbors were obliged to manufacture their flour from wheat in a coffeemill. Hay and straw supplied the fuel, and Adolph remembers that during that winter he was obliged to carry straw on his back a distance of half a mile that the house might be kept warm.” (History of Yellow Medicine County, published 1914)

“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: 

if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.”

- ANNE BRADSTREET, Meditations Divine and Moral

Though life seems rather crazy in our 1998, we too work. We do what needs to be done (enduring far less hardship than some of our forbearers’ hardship).

We work our jobs.

We work our relationship.

We tend our family.

We relax and recreate.

Thankfully, there is some normalcy, and some play mixed in with the work.

We continue our family tradition of taking a Minnesota state park camping vacation – this trip is to northern Minnesota iron ore country. We enjoy time together in August: for many years our camping time away happens solely in the first couple of weeks of August, after summer soccer ends and before school sports practice begins. But we cut our leisure short by a day or two due to an unhappy eldest son with typical adolescent desires to be with friends rather than family, and who is also kinda depressed about a girl. It brings his sister down, which then affects the younger boys - normal family stuff, I think?

We have a ‘typical’ Sunday: during a late summer 1998 Sunday afternoon Gregg and I watch racing on TV and go to a church softball game at the park, Gregg fishes with Danny (age 10) and friend, Mark (13) watches TV, Becky (15) goes to a friend’s house, Seth (17) sleeps after most likely being up all or most of the night gaming.

We continue learning. I persist with my childbirth education teaching, and educating myself: I go to a small group gathering where childbirth educator author and visionary Suzanne Arms gives a presentation on the future of birthing in America. I relate what she says about birthing and stressors to my ‘problems’ – egoic me can make most anything about me. In greater kindness to self, maybe I’ll say here that I keep trying to understand self.

August 3, 1998

Suzanne says we have done our society a great disservice in separating mom and baby so much after birth and in the first year, and medicating babes with drugs used during labor - it causes the wee ones to pump out stress hormones too many and too soon, and screws up their little mechanism that is able to shut off the stress hormones when it gets to be too much.

Personally, I believe that is some of my problem, as there was much separation between my mom and me when I was a baby, and there was little tenderness through my growing up (along with mom being heavily drugged for my birth, and bottlefeeding me).

I believe that contributed to a messed-up regulatory system of cortisol and adrenaline: which causes some damage to brain cells and neurotransmitters; which also affects emotions; which predisposes me toward depression, anxiety, and lower impulse control.

That doesn't give me license to not work at mastering my impulses; with God's help I will move the direction of self-control and service. But, it does help me understand things a bit better.

I continue to work at fighting the depression within and attempt to piece together what effects my childhood environment had on me. Looking back, I realize that maybe there were similar emotional struggles within my mom, though it seemed to manifest – in her 1960s childrearing years – as anxiety that was primarily treated with tranquilizers (I believe anxiety and depression are close cousins). Seems like the anxiety contributed to some separation from intimate relating with me and all her kids.

I’m pretty sure there was a hefty dose of separation around my birth too. I read, in some of the literature I’ve found among mom’s stuff: that upon admittance to the hospital in 1957, a laboring mom was first given a combination of morphine and scopolamine “twilight sleep” that took away memory of the labor, then she was offered an anesthetic or sleeping pill, and then a “saddle block” spinal anesthesia to relieve any pain of late labor and pushing (that often caused an inability to push and necessitated use of forceps). She was drugged up, indeed.

Grandma & Grandpa's house (P. Just's) during our childhood visits

To complicate matters, when Mom was laboring with me, Dad needed to take firstborn Cindy from Brookings, SD to Clarkfield, MN for Grandma (Ursula) to take care of her. As he traveled, he encountered a snow storm. Mom casually mentions, in a 1995 birthday note to me that Dad barely got back for my birth. “Course I was in the hospital all day before you were born.” Some anxiety from the beginning, I'd say.

At least he got back for the birth.

I don’t really know what effect those specific events had or have on my present emotional struggles. I can merely speculate. 

So I work with what I know or have or am. 

I continue to experiment with depression medication: taking myself off occasionally and paying attention to emotions and relational dynamics. Off the Zoloft (SSRI-selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) I feel more irritable, and acknowledge the irritability and abruptness to Gregg, and express my appreciation of his love and tenderness.

August 11, 1998. Note to Gregg:

Thanks for being willing to work at accepting me - a very imperfect woman and wife.....I've totally given up my delusion of being the 'girl of your dreams'....I'm accepting that I'll never be enough for you - ONLY GOD will...and ONLY GOD will be enough for me too. 

Though it can sometimes be difficult to be wholly attentive at my paid work as secretary to the Director of the St. Olaf Bookstore, out-of-the-home work is mostly a good distraction and brings some needed affirmation. I appreciate and record some words from Dan, my boss, at my first-ever performance evaluation.

I am needing to hear these positives.

August 18, 1998

"Your diplomacy in facilitating communication between me and my reps, vendors, staff, college colleagues has been excellent."

"Your communication skills including not only use of language both written and verbal, but sensitivity and tact, are superb."

"Your workplace style and behavior are above reproach, in fact a model for others to emulate. You're all business at the appropriate times and yet 'one of the gang' at others."

"Your ability to maintain a high standard of productivity regardless of where I am, is a testament to your understanding of your position as it relates to mine and others on my staff."

"You think well on your feet and can change direction with no advance warning. You fit in well assisting me as a change agent on both campuses."

"Aside from the specifics already discussed, what I value most highly about your performance is your ability to assimilate information quickly and turn out a quality product with dispatch."

Chapter 25. Retreat again

In early August 1998 I go on a one-night retreat at a bed and breakfast. Gregg generously encourages me to get away like this, and he takes care of the family. Through the years he has always been good about minding the home front when I go on trips with siblings or get away by myself.

It wasn’t just for the occasional trip or retreat that Gregg took care of the family. After fourth baby Dan was born, I relayed that I was

-      under water - my words at the time were "I'm drowning!" -  as I tended to our four little ones plus care for my sister Kathy's newborn Katelyn,

-      feeling trapped as we had NO financial margin, and

-      feeling abandoned when he’d go out fishing until 2am (though he left after the kids were in bed, he was tired during the evening hours when he was with us. But the fish were biting!)

After the questionaire administered by my physician (and dear friend, Dr. Tim Daniels, who was the inspiration for Dan's middle name) suggested I was depressed in early December 1987, we established one night per week away for me. Gregg cooked supper, so I had the night off from meal preparation and kid care, and I would usually go to the library, where it was quiet and no one demanded anything of me. 

The childrens’ constant needing me was most difficult for this introverted mom, so much so that, in addition to one night away per week, to stay sorta sane I needed to reframe often: as the kids pulled at me I would bring to mind the verses in Psalms on waiting on God, where to wait means “to adhere to” like a child clinging to its mother’s legs.

“Our soul waits for the Lord; He is our help and shield.” 

- Psalm 33:20

I occasionally get away for restorative time. Gregg has kindly aided me in making that happen; he has been good to me in numerous and consistent ways over the years.

On this late summer 1998 retreat I do a few self-care activities like take a warm bath, enjoy the visual pretties of a Victorian-decorated space, relish quiet, appreciate the thick feather pillows, delight in great food that someone else cooks. 

I sit in yearning silence with God. I feel devastatingly undesirable. I listen for the messages that might feed my soul. 

Aug 1, 1998.

I told God that most of all, I feel my soul longs to be a person that is desired.

God led me to lots of different Scriptures, with this one being one that I'll really repeat to myself over and over again:

"The Spirit whom He has caused to dwell in us, jealously desires us, and He yearns for the Spirit (to be welcome) with a jealous love." 

–James 4:5 (Amplified version)

In other words, God wants us to want Him as badly as He wants us....but note, He really wants me! I so rejoice in that! Isn't it wonderful?

"You are - we all are - the beloved of the Beloved One and in every moment, in every event of life, the Beloved One is whispering to you exactly what you need to hear and know. 

Who can explain such a mystery?

It simply is."

 -Rumi, Light Upon Light  

Chapter 24. Emotional grappling

Summer of 1998 includes much emotional work and attempts at getting to know myself and my reality.

I have some of my first exposures to mindfulness and try to move toward acceptance of self. A dream and some author's ideas also help me let go, at least a little, of an overactive preoccupation with self. 

Awareness is the first step to making new choices.

Use mindfulness to cope with pain and anxiety. If you feel anxious feelings arising inside, try to witness them (take 3 deep breaths, and then pay attention to what is happening in your mind).

Instead of getting stuck in judging, be the observer.

By not engaging the mind in battle, by watching and letting go, it will soon become quiet.

DREAM. July 22, 1998. Taproot.

I see a weed that needs to be pulled. When I give it a slight tug, the whole plant/root comes up, out of the basement – it is a long root, 12-14 feet in length, but it all comes up, wholly and completely out. I am surprised: usually pulling weeds is harder, and tap roots break off rather than come out intact. I am aware of God doing it.

I ponder this dream and take it as assurance that I can cease striving and know that God will “do it.” God will work in me to remove the taproot of habitual egoic self that wills to be first, to be god. Once a counselor said to me, “I have good news and bad news: there is a God, and you are not it.”

Leanne Payne writes,

“The desire on the part of the created to be as the Creator is the deepest taproot of pride…

 To walk in the Spirit is to cease striving in our own strength and goodness, and to walk in His…

To walk in the Spirit is to live in the present moment, always looking to Christ, always practicing His Presence, always moving in tandem with Him…

“And I will betroth you to Me forever:…, In lovingkindness and in compassion,

And I will betroth you to Me in faithfulness. Then you will know the Lord.” -Hosea 2:19-20 NAS

I also feel the weed dream somehow addresses the taproot of non-acceptance, related to pride, within me. God will remove the depressive root of hatred of self, and enable me to find and accept the person that is me.

More of Payne’s words --

"In rejecting and hating herself, she had fallen into pride.. She wanted to be good enough on her own…

"The humble acceptance of myself as fallen but now justified by Another who is my righteousness is the basis on which I can accept myself, learn to laugh at myself, be patient with myself. And then wonder of wonders, be enabled for at least part of the time to forget myself. 

"Humble yourselves - feeling very insignificant - in the presence of the Lord, and He will exalt you.

He will lift you up and make your lives significant" (James 4:10 Amplified)."

June and July hold full schedules. 

We attend and assist with showers and weddings: of Katy and Ryan, Jeremy and Melissa, Natalie and Scott, Sarah and Andrew. 

Gregg and I trek to our two-hour counseling sessions with Maureen nearly every other week and endure the awkward and often painful debriefs as we drive home. 

We host a German student for a couple of weeks; it is his family to which Seth will visit the following summer and the reason Seth works to make money in order to take that school trip to Germany (Seth rises early to work the Sheldahl factory line and mows the Lindenwood grounds). 

Seth also hangs out with friends into wee hours of the morning. 

Becky has orthodontic appointments, goes to camp, auditions for Northfield youth choir, takes drivers ed. 

Mark and Dan have soccer practices and games and tournaments; Dan has band lessons, Mark helps mow. 

Gregg goes on his annual boundary waters canoe and fishing trip: one in this summer includes Mark, Becky, Seth, and friends.

In addition to managing six people’s schedules, there’s much grappling with familial emotional upheaval.

July 26, 1998.

Becky and I cried together yesterday over hurts. She says she'll never get married 'cause there's no guy out there trustworthy or decent....I tried assuring her that there may be a good match for her, or maybe God will keep her single, but in whatever happens, she can know that God will take care of her... and after our conversation I went upstairs and wept over some of hardship and hurts that we've brought on our kids by our mistakes and asked God to heal the hurts and 'give back the years the locusts have eaten.

Seth is feeling rather depressed, unhappy with himself…

Gregg talked with his brother John this week and asked him to do counseling (with our therapist) and John said yes… If he does start into counseling, it'd be a step toward restoring relationship... Also this week, Gregg's been frustrated at work, moreso than usual, and bummed about finances and his past actions and the hurt he's brought to us...... he wept one night midweek.

Lots of tears here.

Chapter 23. Really mad

"Anger is our unconsciousness's fastest way to let us know that our boundaries are being stepped on."
-Wendy Hammond, Leaving the Castle: Finding the Confidence to Start Over 

We find a new counselor in the Cities, and start into couples therapy. Much of my work is anger work, urged on by counselor Maureen. She says to me, more than once, “you are more angry than you think.”

I’ve since learned that enneagram Ones are often not in touch with their anger. In fall 2015, my Enneathought, a daily email offering a few words to ponder for each enneagram type, said,

“It is striking that Ones are often unaware of their anger, and almost always underestimate the degree of it. Whatever Ones may call their intense feelings, it is the force of anger which truly directs a One’s actions. 

Watch for this tendency in yourself today. 

(Personality Types, p 379)

In June 1998 I record and communicate the words below. It seems to help me get a handle on all the diffuse agitation and misery inside, and I hope it will move me toward more health and wholeness. Still, it is difficult to convey; and to ease the discomfort I add my own apologies and end it with an expression of appreciation. 

Maureen gently chides me for trying to express even anger “perfectly.” She’s discerning correctly that I’m quite uncomfortable expressing the anger and trying to soften the discomfort of the recipient. Yet, I am feeling both intense anger and some gratitude, so it feels better to communicate both.

Only the list “To Gregg” is below: a similar long list is emailed to Allure. Get ready, or skip over: I really rant. 

(I'm intentionally leaving the list in small print - you gotta wanna read it.)

To Gregg --

-I am angry about feeling uncomfortable, crazy even, about you and Allure interacting

at the sink in early Oct during the Pakistan dinner

in Feb, at the meeting with Steve, while I was defending your and Allure’s ‘right’ to interact (as friends! I

thought) and you were f***ing (as lovers);  I feel so taken advantage of

-I am furious that you went to her so often for consolation, for sex...that you had it with her weekly or more often - 
                maybe even more often than we were doing it

-I am angry –

-that you didn’t talk to me about what you needed, and give me a chance

-at you for the deception of the porn for so many years

-at you for having a family of origin that’s so full of denial, for the pathology that so hurt my little girl, and that set up our boys for porn, and for your lack of discipline

-at you for putting yourself in a place where you ‘need’ nicotine and thus end up smelling repulsive

-that you took a good friend from me

-that you compromised me, and our family spiritually, and opened us up to demonic forces in a different way

-that you don’t ask (think of it even) to pray together with me

-that it seems you’ve disregarded my wishes for spiritual oneness with you

-that it seems like you still don’t seem to use me as a resource or help with spiritual stuff with kids

-that I can’t trust you

                -that I don’t know when to believe you, when not to

                -that your word is not reliable, when that is such a big deal to me

-that you’ve shattered my dreams - you were my ‘nice guy’ who was ‘crazy’ about me, and adored me... but now you’re not or you don’t

-that you’ve given away, in so loving another woman, what was (I believe) rightfully mine

-that you shattered everything (it feels like) that I thought was secure - our “good” marriage, and me being a ‘good’ wife...that you made me face up to or feel like a rotten wife

-that your actions contributed to my involving another person (Paul - who has contributed toward ‘defiling’ my person with sexual thoughts of another - thus disobedience) and that that involvement has caused him some pain (now that we’re backing off)

- that I think of you and Allure in Yitterboe humping, of you caressing her curves, enjoying her c*** and her kisses, enjoying being in her mouth and her swallowing... and loving every second

-that you got so mad at Gary (and put me in an uncomfortable place) about being called “slick” when it was true

-that you exacerbated my depression

-that you contributed to me drinking more, and now I have to fight hard to go beyond physical/psychological dependence

-for being so passionate with her - that you gave her so much of your heart

-that you made time and energy for her at my expense

-that you put me in a place of ‘competing’ for your love

-that I even hurt for you for something you did that hurt me so

-I’m mad that I was lied to over and over and over again, that you took advantage of my belief in you, and my trust

-that I was made a fool of, disregarded, talked about negatively with her
-that you kept so many secrets from me - that you walled me out

I’M SORRY - Please forgive me:

-for being hard and cold emotionally

-for being controlling or perfectionistic and leaving parts of you feeling empty, or intimidated

-for not appreciating your unique style of leadership and your unique giftedness in design, and thus not supporting you more in those

-for my pride, and thinking I was better than you in some ways

-for hurting you in my attempts to self-destruct or meet my own needs inappropriately (depression, alcohol, workaholism, and Paul)

-for internalizing, thus making it difficult for you to say what’s on your mind

-for my sensuality that I’ve passed on to the kids, and that has probably caused me to put up with too much

-for my disability (‘cause of my own issues/brokenness) in following through with the kids

I APPRECIATE AND THANK YOU

-for doing Quicken immediately Fri eve after I mentioned that it needed to be done and thus communicating your love for me (cause then I wouldn’t have to do it)

-for your gracious excitement about the love seat for Seth (even though it meant work to get it in the house and more ‘stuff’ in the house)

-for letting me have flowers hanging all over the place

-for telling me you like “tight places”

-for listening and considering my input with the kids

-for your fun-loving and cheerful outlook on life

-for being so sorry for what has happened and for hating the hurt that it’s brought

-for making me face my ‘idols,’ and give up what I’ve depended on (that are actually quite undependable)

-for so often being selfless, sensitive, intuitive, considerate, kind, thoughtful, sweet, affectionate, warm, tender

-for loving God and being open to what He desires

-for telling me about the affair, in order to not go back to her

-for choosing me