The Delicate Threads

Life is a tapestry.  Every thread is important.

Last night I was asked a question I've thought about a lot.  If I could change one thing about my life, what would it be?

She may have meant to ask what I would change about my current life, but that's not how I answered it.  I answered about my past.

I've had a lot of difficult experiences in my past.  And I've done a lot of stupid things.  But when she asked what I'd change my answer was simple.  Nothing.

When I've thought about this before, in that way we do when we wish for the magical power of a do-over, the one thing that comes to mind first is the times I've hurt people.

*  The time I wrote that mean note.
*  The time I said that horribly mean thing because I thought I was being clever.
*  The time I broke a friend's heart.
*  The time I was selfish when someone needed me.
*  The time I said out of anger that I didn't love someone.
*  All of these thing multiplied numerous times and many others.

If I have any regrets in my life, it would be these.  But if I had the power to take them back, if I had a Jimmy Stewart/It's a Wonderful Life moment, would I?  No.  I wouldn't.

And this is why.  I like who I am.  I like who I am so much better than who I used to be.  And each of those moments affected me.  Each of them led to growth.  They helped me become me.  I would be terrified that pulling on even one of those threads would change the picture of my life.  Would change it into something less wonderful.

And I'm sure many of those moments changed the people I associated with.  They grew.  They learned, possibly just to be more kind than me.  It would be awfully selfish of me to mess with someone else's life like that so I could have fewer regrets.

The threads in my tapestry matter.  Every single one of them.  The picture might not be anything like what I expected, but it's exactly what I need it to be.

An Abusive Husband, part two

For the first part of my husband's story and why we are sharing it read this.

This is the second part of my husband's story: we got married and things got ugly.

I WAS AN ABUSIVE HUSBAND.  REALLY?  (PART TWO)

I finished my 2-year mission and came home and that's when I met MisssRobin.  I was still very religious and active in my church but I had anger.  Robin was awesome.  Good looking, smart and would play with me in a snarky way.  She was a tease but then again so was I.  I fell in love with her so fast.

We got married and that's when things changed.  She is right about almost everything and she is very strong willed.  I, however, am not right about most things but won't admit it for self esteem reasons.  I am also strong willed and at the time was of the opinion that it's my castle and you're my property.  That's where it gets hard for women to understand I think.  How can you love someone if you think they are your property?  But that is how I was raised.  I'm the man, she's the woman.  It's my job to provide for her and keep her safe and it's her job to do as I say.

I became everything I hated in authority and didn't even notice.  I also suffer from OCD so my perception of reality isn't always on the mark.  Things would often make me angry that wouldn't bother other people.  When I got angry I would be mean to the person I was angry at.  I hated them for the time I was angry.  I wouldn't hit them or be physical, but I would yell and ignore and withhold.  I would scheme of ways I could get even.  "You won't do this for me then I'll not do something for you."  And I thought it was fine that I acted that way.  After a few days of cooling off, I would feel horrible and apologize and then everything was fine.  (How naive I was.)

Years into our marriage, Robin started telling me that I was being abusive.  I was shocked.  What the heck is she talking about?  I've never hit her or the kids.  I would think that I should hit her so she can see what abuse really is.  I talked to friends at work about it (all male) and they would agree with me.  What does she mean?

Then she started to tell me it was emotional abuse.  WHAT IS SHE SMOKING?  Emotional abuse?  What is that?  In my mind it was an imaginary thing.  I didn't really have emotions other than hate, anger and love.  I had never even heard of such a thing as emotional abuse and if there was such a thing then she was abusive to me.  She would not talk to me for days after one of my explosions.  She was always complaining about me.  ME, the guy who was working every day so that she could stay home.  40 hours a week and all I asked for in return was for my family not to trigger my OCD and let me be the king of the house.  It took years, but things started to get ugly between us.

Read more here.

When I Was the Mean Girl -- Smartly

I have a new essay up over at Smartly about a time When I Was the Mean Girl.  It's not a moment I'm proud of.  Hopefully, I've finally learned my lesson.