Mindspace

Telling the kids

Oct 4 2017

We told the kids about the separation God. It was the hardest day of my life. Yesterday I woke up knowing my son hated me.
All day long, I got video texts from him that were brutal. It was amazing how I survived a 6 hour back to back day. How I was able to get out of bed.
But again, your hand through this all was nothing short of amazing.
- that I was out with Jeff when he found the texts between us.
- that I would insist on not rushing home and dancing - that it was beautiful and communal, and I could feel your love and joy through the whole evening. Holding both the impending shifts and joy at the same time.
- that  I could laugh and joke and hold it all with the epic implications of it all

Nothing could have prepared me the following day.
For the wash of hate and fury that the boy shot at me. I think that even his sister was caught off guard. He sent me brutal Marco messages all day, punching all my buttons.
- you blew up this family
- you are so selfish
- all you care about is yourself
in the evening, it was 
- you dumped dad, he still loves you
- why do you have kids to put them through this hell
- you shouldn't have gotten married
- i don't want to live, i want to hurt myself, 
- that the pain was so bad

It was brutal to hear him. I felt for a moment the shield of the therapist come down. I know that shield, it has protected me from borderlines, from Enoch, from my mother and from his parents. I know that shield that leaves me eerily calm and cold. That shield that was almost there the night he found the texts.  But in that moment, i can't tell if it was being with Jeff or you God, every inch you, I felt the veil of that protection fall and I felt every bit of that pain.
It was a miracle that I felt it all day and still survived a 6 hour back to back. That with every Marco message, I felt like the worst mother in the world, like it wasn't worth fighting every accusation he threw at me. That if he really thought I was that bad of a person, then why even stay and fight for them. I felt like all the guys in my practice that said - ok keep the kids. If that is who they think I am -- then let me leave and run away.
But Jeff made me stay. His texts all day was an anchor. That I could do this, that I was a good mother. That I needed to hold steady and be his mother. That I wasn't that kind of person that would leave her  child. That Aidan needs his mother, that he is just worried that I would leave.

And he was right, because my son said "I don't have a mother. You are with him."

I held his anger for the whole day and it was the hardest day of my life. For all the years, enoch put me through, it was nothing compared to this. To feel the hate and fury of your own child. I felt all the world unravel under me. I felt the stories of my clients -- her children screaming down the street. Her husband pitting them against her. I felt all the divorce stories I had sat with through the years blaze before me.  It's happening. Why did I not see this coming? All of the chaos I anticipated. I prepared. I drew out four phases of transition. I did not see this coming. The hate of my children.
I felt myself isolating. I told, San, Margot, Reena, Angel, Kian Yan, and that's it. I let no one in. It is amazing how I don't let anyone. I sat there with each of them and said why did i think anyone would understand.
They all did. They all saw how unhappy I was. But I just grappled for anyone who would understand the pain you feel when you see the impact of the divorce on the kids. 
Jeff tried to talk to me - tell me that there was no way around this. That it's change, and whoever asks for the divorce will always be the bad guy. 

Kambria was such a gift - someone to pray with that morning that and to hear from her that my experience has been helpful.

I cried on the way home. Tears. They have been coming more. It is nothing short of a miracle. I told Jeff that I was willing to let go of us-- maybe this is too hard. That my job is to protect my family. He got it, he got my fear. He got that he might lose me. He said "if you give me up, you would give you up." He was right, but I had given me up all my life, what is a couple of more years. I begged God for a sign, a palpable sign that if this relationship is what He wants -- I needed a sign.

And what happened next was nothing short of the resurrection.
My son let me touch him. Let me me tap him. After raging and recoiling, after curling and literally punching his own head which was excruciating to watch -- he let me touch him.
And this new me, the mother that was so hurt and shut down by the time Nally was born, held my child the way, I held him when he was born. At that moment, after 10 year of being married, I was heart broken and numb. Aidan was the one I sang "I will give my life for you to." Aidan was the one that was the first man that healed my then, broken heart. This would be the only male, I would entrust love to. That he would never hurt me the way his father did the last decade of our marriage. There he was ravaging my heart, and all of the old me would have left.
And I stayed. " You get to hate me your whole life, baby but I will never leave. I am not going anywhere, I will always be here."

What happened next was a miracle, but I am realizing that moment was a miracle. Something has shifted in me in the last 5 months. I can feel things. I can feel pain. I can actually be in such excruciating pain and stay. And hold steady for my son. I can feel the grief of all the years, the hate of two countries, every community I've ever had, the christian community, the Sommatica community, the hate of my girlfriends who had been rooting for this marriage. I felt them all in the face of my son. And all of me wanted to leave -- but I stayed.

When he finally turned and let me hug him. I just wept. I just sobbed and said I was sorry. That I tried for so long and so hard. That daddy was not a bad guy just someone who did not work for me. That he liked to go out and be away. And help the world and that was a good thing. It just did not work for me.
And then he asked if Jeff was a good guy. I can't believe him.
I told him that Jeff was consistent, he paid attention and that he prayed with me. And he said that he was ok with it as long as it made me happy. Floored.
We went through all the scenarios -- is Jeff coming to Hawaii, family camp?
I told him, that we had just met, it was five months. We're taking it slow and that daddy didn't want them to meet him till later. And i felt my husband's rage in the moment, the promise I made to say nothing. but I thought, it was the only way to be with my children especially Aidan. You cannot lie. 

I promised him that we would have the best divorce in the world. That we would do everything to be there for him. That we would still be mommy and daddy. That would keep all the family traditions of dinners and vacations and new years. That we had been separated for weeks and they had not noticed a thing. Because we aren't those families who fight or are mean. We would be loving and compassionate with each other.

Then he switched and I can't believe it. His mood swings? or God. This child that had stayed home. Raged all day, said the meanest most awful things, just switched and he said he loved me. Gave me hugs all the rest of the night. And went on to chat with his buddy from Priory, adjusted his deadlines for his tests. 
It was as if God was addressing every fear I had in the car. That I had ruined my children's lives. That this would impact their school. That they would have to emdr this one day. That I took two kids in the prime of their lives and threw them under the bus. 
God took each fear and addressed them all.
It was nothing short of the resurrection.

Bedtime conversations were again epic. We cuddled in bed and he chatted. 
Quotable quotes
Good job hanging in there for 26 years mom, many people would have left.
Why didn't you leave earlier?
You were not heart-connected?
Wait, how did you have sex if you were not heart-connected?

Jeff and I sat and just laughed ourselves to death over dinner. It was amazing to be with someone who could see the multi-layers of how amazing this boy was. How he got in a second what it took two somatica modules to do. That he "knew" on some cellular level that we were not a "good fit." He knew. And that if we were committed to having the "best divorce in the world" we would be ok. It was amazing to talk to someone who got it. Who understood the magnitude of how insightful the boy was, how intelligent, the profundity of his statements.

That Aidanwas so intuitive. That he could sense there was something missing in my hugs. That dad's hugs felt different. That he meant it. That he was sad too. That he missed me and loved me. And that this was hard. I said that dad deserved someone who would not be so angry with him. That would really applaud him for doing his disaster relief trips. He said, he should have a partner that went with him. Is that crazy? Jeff was just simply floored.

And for a moment, I felt the pride of all the years of upbringing. This is my son. My every inch amazing son, and someone else could see him too. I had put snippets of him on Facebook, I could talk to their therapists on how quotable he is. But last night, Face-timing Jeff over his dinner and having someone else witness my child, gave me the glimpse of a co-parent I had been longing for all these years.

" I hope to meet him one day" he said. And as if Aidan knew, he insisted on saying hi on his way to bed.

It couldn't have been more perfect. And just as I prayed years ago. God you plan my exit. You do right by me. I will not leave in shame. I will leave with my dignity intact, with the kids ok.  You will make a way out for me. You will not put me to shame.

It was all the confirmation I needed to know that this relationship was from Him. I looked at Jeff and said "How do you like MY God?" Jeff believes in God, but now I think he BELIEVES in God.

Thank you Jesus. Amidst all this talk on churches and Christians. No one who knows me can contest the fact that I know you. That you and I have had a relationship as old as the hills. I summed it up best when I talk about you in confidence to Jeff. "I know God, he has been my husband for years."

 

Marriage as God intended

Funny with a divorce how the idea of marriage gets questioned. And for those of you who read my post in 2006, no one could be more idealized about marriage than I was. I was the one who declared God my first love, put a ring on my finger and said I was married to Him. I was the one that prayed for my partner since 13 years old and fantasied about him on the other side of the world. I was the one that begged God to work on him and not let me meet him any minute sooner than he was ready for me. Yes I was THAT one. 
And when I met Enoch, we went to every possible counseling possible. We took the pre-marital tests, we got dating accountability partners, foster parents from church, we went to pre-marital counseling, and post-marital counseling, we were in a couples group for 5 years and those couples we got pregnant together. We went through workbook after workbook, together, and in group. From Bill Hybels Fit to be Tied, to Boundaries in Marriage. I counted up the other day at least 10 different marriage conferences. We were set up for the marriage God intended.
But fast forward 23 years, I am nauseous at weddings, irritated with love-songs and feeling the need to stand up at weddings and go "Somebody warn them!" I can't sleep when I am counseling couples who are in love but riddled with red flags. 
Marriage as God intended.
One of the things that is a legitimate concern about putting divorce in the history of my children is the possible disillusionment the kids will have about long term relationships and marriage. And a part of me is wistful and sad about it. And another part of me is actually glad.
For me I am the child of the fantasy and idealization of marriage. There is no divorce on both sides in all marriages. And my marriage vows when I made them were for life. And yet I'll never forget what our family therapist said when she got a handle on the kind of marriage Enoch and I had - that we made a promise that we would be unhappy together forever. She was right.
"If you and dad tried so hard and it still didn't work, how do we know marriage will work? " That was the one question my daughter asked. 
I was too heart-broken to answer.
But the therapist gave the most honest answer. 
" We don't. There are no guarantees. The only thing we can do is work on ourselves, and heal and grow. And we make the best decisions when we do that. We do relationship best when we know ourselves best."
That resonated. That made the decision I made 23 years old, still right, and still true. I made the best decision I knew, given the person I was. And it was a good one. And I will be forever grateful.
And a divorce doesn't mean a failure. It just means that we've grown and changed. And we are willing to take the necessary steps to make life congruent. 
I realize, I don't ever want my children to fall into the the myth of believing that marriage is forever. That we don't ever have to work on the marriage, or on ourselves or grow. Something about enoch and i's loyalty and fidelity to each other stagnated us. We were married and that was it.
I never want them to believe that marriage will save them, or give them meaning, or that they can check out. 
Something about the divorce has reset my buttons and make me conscientious and grateful. It's almost like having a near-death experience. I never take anything for granted anymore, nothing is for sure. I work everyday to choose, to treasure, to grow, to be mindful and to be grateful that I get to have my partner everyday.

Going to sleep and Waking up

When I got married I thought that couples went to bed the way they did on TV. They got into bed, turned off the lights and cuddled together.
Early on in my marriage, it was confusing to realize that it wasn't. At least it wasn't E and I's routine at least.
He was a night owl and I was a morning person. Even back in college he would go to bed at 2-3 in the morning. I would go to sleep at the same time every night. What that did was result in us sleeping separately. Back at Brown because he was usually up studying or being on the computer. Later during residency, and eventually for the next 16 years because of his urgent care shifts which started at 12pm and ended at 1-2am.
I learnt to get into bed alone and wake up quietly with a sleeping man next to me, caroling the children to be quiet because daddy needs to sleep.
Even our sexual dates were mismatched. Those infrequent nights when I would put my desire on the table, he would take his time to get to the bedroom. The distance between the living room and the bedroom to a wife that actually wanted to connect sexually felt like the longest distance in the world. And I was confused and later furious. 
Fast forward 20 years, I am now with a partner who loves going to sleep and waking up together. Jeff fantasizes of a day we are all together and we can do that. Just the simple routine of sleeping and waking up. And I scoff at him a little. That is such a logistical detail.
Why would that matter. We have all day to be together. What is with this sleeping and waking up?
But in the last month, when we've had quieter weekends, without the hustle of workshops and trying to get to sessions on time. When we are doing "normal things" like getting breakfast on Saturday mornings. Something in me shifts about the beauty of waking up and doing nothing together. And just laying and talking and being and being next to.
So many women and men, think that is about sex.
And I even warn my clients that you can have sex and miss this. 
But it isn't. It is about the skin to skin, affect regulation, the comfort, the lazing around, the bed mess - before coffee and showers.
There is something slow about this new relationship. Maybe because I am with someone 8 years older. Because I am slowing down enough to taste the coffee enough to taste the difference between medium and dark roast. Maybe because I can finally take baths anytime of the day because the water comes out piping hot and I don't have to pay for water in my new apartment; that I am starting to appreciate routine, and regularity, rituals and doing nothing. Instead of bounding out of bed the first thing with a million things to do. "The day has to get moving" My mother would say. 
And I think of all the Saturday mornings she would hammer on our doors to get us out for breakfast. 
Sleeping and waking up. I realize I never had that. I never grew up with that. The energy, the soothing the comfort. Our best conversations are in those early mornings, and sometimes we pray to start the day. 
It also got me in touch with the grief that I never ever had that with E. And the little girl in me that had dreamed about that in marriage and having it never happen given the irregularity of our lives together. It was nobody's fault, but it was every bit a tragedy. And these days I am seeing how much it cost me. How much it made me hyper vigilant and anxious all the time that I had to be on call, for change, for flexibility, for unpredictability.  I am less angry about it and more sad.
My friend San said today " I am so sorry you didn't have that."
And these days, when I can take sips of it, really be present to the loss, the grief hits me like a tidal wave. Other days I answer her flippantly " Thank you. No worries. I didn't know it any other way."
As I am settling I guess I never realized how anxious the lack of routine made me. And how the structure and routine of things I can count on, settles me so deeply.
The simple things, the things I can count on. These are what makes up relationship.

Meeting Jeff

Thank you God.
It was such a big day yesterday. I felt so amazed at how it all fell together. A miracle how the way cleared and how it finally quietly and naturally happened.
I felt strongly that given Aidan's recent outbursts that he finally meets Jeff. Most of the time when he spins he makes up stories about my safety and Jeff. So I thought it might be a great idea for him to ground his imagination with reality. I checked in with the family therapist and Aidan's individual therapist and together we thought it might be a good idea. His swings have been huge lately, very histrionic and dramatic and while not all of them are prompted by the divorce - eg. Nally, Chinese teacher, data usage. Jeff is used as the language of rage in the most bizarre way. So we figured, it might not help but definitely could not hurt. And it was one little step in showing him that we take things seriously and that we want to support him.
At first E was against it. Him being against it was disappointing. But what was more was how he handled it. I took pictures of the boy's text, I wrote him like 15 text bubbles I told him what the different therapists said -- the response I got was " I think we need to up his meds." 
It was so triggering. And I noticed, just how quickly I reeled. How fast I flipped. How alone I felt with the boy with his father. Here was my son, in pain and all he could say was that? It felt so dejavu, it was excruciating. 
But I took deep breaths, and it was amazing to have Jeff there. To sound things out, to just simply call when Aidan spins and flips, and swings and rages. Someone to say "You've been through the ringer, come here." Someone so I was/am not alone.
Because I wasn't alone, I was able to take deep breaths. And eventually E came around. He actually showed up for his son. He got on a call with the 3 of us, and hemmed and haaed, stumbled and paused, and finally Aidan put 2 and 2 together, connected the dots and even guessed his fear. 
"It's ok dad, you're worried about me, you're worried that I would get hurt. You're worried that if mom and Jeff breaks up, I will be hurt. Thank you for caring for me. Thank you for protecting me." And I was speechless. I was like how was it possible that a 13 year old is articulate, can track his father, expresses his fears, appreciates his intentions and speak for both of them.
And this 47 year old can barely put a sentence together.
It reminded me of a time that Dad finally blew up inappropriately and for the first time in his life, asked to meet with me. When I finally went over there, he hemmed and haaed, he stumbled and barely addressed the issue. He ended up lecturing me on forgiveness via prayer.
But after talking to our family therapist and Jeremy. he finally agreed. And I was floored. Not by it happening but how it happened.
E and I have never been on the same page before. We have never done anything on the same page before. It was always him doing it, or me doing it; and the other person accepting it. It was how the disaster relief projects started and the begin of the unraveling.
But the day went beautifully. It was gorgeous. Nikolas was a little shy. But he warmed up and Jeff impressed all of us ( even himself ) with his skateboarding skills. Aidan was putting his best foot forward, and I settled into the role of just bustling around and watching the kids; and watching my old friend connect with my new partner.
It was wild. And so normal and natural. And I could see how hard Aidan was trying to bond with Nikolas, and how Jeff was trying to reach him.
It was hysterical. 
There was a moment when Jeff was trying to be encouraging when the boys tried to jump us, and exclaimed that they scared us. And my son said "That is the most scripted thing I've ever heard!" and I could have rolled on the floor laughing. 
It was real and amazing, yet natural and quiet all at the same time.
Yet coming home that night relaxed all of us. I felt the two worlds finally integrating. Perhaps, now the boy will see who I am with. Not some scary person in his head. Perhaps he can see we do normal things like walk the baylands, eat ice-cream and do dishes. 
We had a beautiful day in the afternoon with Nally and the dog-park and I got to pick her up from her theater on the way home. We did face masks with Sandra when we got home.
It was perfect. Something shifted. Not sure what. I am both apprehensive and unsure.
But just for today -- so grateful, so thankful, so in awe of how the boy leads the way of healing for the family.

 

 

Visiting as a couple

Jeff and I hosted our first couples hot pot at the apartment. And it was pretty special because it was an old Somatica buddy who is re-entering his marriage after the year of Somatica with his non-Somatic partner. It has not been an easy journey, and he thought that it might be nice for Jeff to bring his perspective to the picture.
So we sat down the 4 of us, over hot pot and strawberries and dark chocolate, and had some of the most honest and transparent conversation in a long while. Perhaps one of the more real conversations I've had with Somaticans. We talked about my experience there, Jeff's experience supporting me through the year, his ex, Enoch and I's journey. It was wild.
And there was a moment there, that I sat and got up, did the dishes and let Jeff take the floor, and savored the moment of having a partner that could. That could actually connect on a level that meant something to me. So many times during parties, I would get up and start cleaning, only because the conversation would go into a direction that bored me. Work, his disaster-relief work, technology, Teslas. A part of me would take pride in the fact that I had such a world-savvy partner in Enoch. Yet yesterday, I felt a part of me just glow with every honest and vulnerable, clear and articulate share. We got to be real with others, with our insides and our journeys. We got to show up as a couple in a way that mattered to me. Not just "look good" on the outside, Enoch and I was always such a picture perfect couple. We matched in so many ways. We even looked like brother and sister. Our education, our upbringing, our background, our culture. But there was always such a incongruence that made me flee the room, that made me get up and do the dishes.
After the lunch, Jeff and I sat down and reflected on the visit. We both gave our takes on how it went, how we perceived what happened. Again, a part of me marveled that we could. A part of me cringed a little at how "critical" reflecting about what happened seemed. Yet another part of me marveled at even the possibility of this shared experience.
We smiled and laughed and hoped that our journeys blessed Chad and Judy. We had prayed ahead of time that it would. "That is quite a story!" Judy said after hearing me. She peppered Jeff with a million questions about his journey with his ex. 
And together we presented what was an imperfect, real and honest journey. One that was centered around being real, authentic, honest and committed. It was all we could offer to them. All we could offer each other.

Your Tribe and Person

I'm hitting a sweet spot with the kids and the boy especially.
After a confusing week of vacation, when he totally "ignored" me in a mood swing, squandered away a precious week where mommy and daddy were together in the same home, he came home clingy and missing me. The one day home, we even did a family dinner together, the 4 of us, and we had a great evening at Xanh and even went to desert after; and then I was read the Riot Act when he thought I didn't trust him when I told Enoch that I didn't want him home alone. We're talking brutal losing it where he said the most hurtful things, I finally broke down and sent him a video telling him he can't say these awful things and believe that people will not run for the hills and to come back. I told him if he kept pushing me away with these horrible words, one day I will do exactly what he says and not come back.
The Marco I got back within seconds, had him bawling. He must have said "I'm sorry mom" a million times. "It's not me" he said. And the family therapist chastised me. " He needs to know that his anger is not going to chase you away."  Maybe, I thought perhaps. But I'm not a saint. And he needs to see the impact of his rage.
The following week had him in the most darling mood. It was as if a switch in him went off. He said the fight we had cured him of 4 days of a stomach bug where he threw up and had diarrhea. He went around humming "I love myself." He went around taking selfies that said "I look so cute."
He actually requested that we DIDN'T use our phones during meals and had a beautiful conversation asking me about my childhood. We played hooky one morning and skipped Chinese and sat there at Starbucks like old times waxing conversation like old times talking about everything from friends, to high school, to religion, to church. He even said that he missed church, not because he liked it, but because it reminded him of what we used to do as a family. 
His favorite game is "Remember the time....?" going through all these old memories of sights and sounds, and places and things.
It's like he's nostalgic of all the things that used to be the same. The old me would think it is the divorce, but honestly, since family camp this past summer, it's everything that is changing. I was nostalgic then and Enoch and I were not even divorced. It's like the tween grieving his teen hood; just as he is about to enter high school.
But the one conversation he left me with was so profound, I got so emotional.
He said "I can't talk to dad like this. I thought after the divorce I would be able to. You divorced him. What am I supposed to do?"
Somewhere between how casually and innocently he said it. How true and profound and tragic the comment was, floored me. The truth of it reverberated in me all day. The miracle sheer miracle I have with Jeff is a heart-to-heart conversation. That I can just be real with him, be about to be transparent, authentic, accountable. That I can count on pouring my heart out and know that there will be a response. Something so basic, so normal, so human -- is what I couldn't count on with my previous partner. 
Here was my son at 13 years old, sensing the same thing. Craving the same thing. Wanting the same connection with his father. And coming to the same grievous realization that he can't.
It broke my heart to hear it. And it broke my heart to leave him that weekend. To realize that I leave him alone. In a household where he is the only one who talks like this. Natalie is just like Enoch. She doesn't talk. She doesn't speak transparently. She and Enoch work infamously together. They just do stuff and errands silently. They don't share feelings. She still won't talk about the divorce.
My little boy, the splitting image of me emotionally is there in that household alone.
And on bad days, I feel like I want to take him with me. I want him to live with me. With Jeff in a house hold where there is words. I fantasize of a day when he gets to see Jeff and I talk and share and speak vulnerably. I fantasize about him turning and saying to me. " I see why you are with him." 
Instead I tell him. "Aidan, 80% of the world can't connect this way. Most of my friends can't. But one day, one day you will find people and persons who can. That is your tribe. "
That will be your Person. 

Loveworks Conflict Weekend

Such an amazing weekend Lord, I feel so blessed to able to go with Jeff. 

• To see how engaged he is with his personal growth.
• To see how loved and admired he is by his growth community for a year now.
• To see him stand up and reflect on his growth and the fruit of his work a year ago and to have his teachers and team affirm him for that.
• To be able to have him at this phase of his life - conscious, aware, articulate and vulnerable.
• To see him pay attention, engage, exhort, share vulnerably, inspire and fascinate.
• To see him own his own shit in front of everyone and take responsibility for his triggers with me
• To have him shift gears with me when I was triggered.
• To have us both learn tools and be willing and committed to using them.
• To have others witness us, both our journeys to beam our relationship, affirm our connection and celebrate us.

Christian said "Wherever you are in your journey, it looks good on you." 
Another guy called us the "dynamic duo"
Another gal said "You guys match."
I never want to forget these positive mirroring; because someday, I never want to imagine this as normal, a given, something I'd take for granted.
That I have a partner who pays attention, who has been attending these workshops 2 decades before I met him, that has started this work for himself not for me, have had others bear witness and cheer him on, and now cheer us on.
Never let me forget, what a miracle that is, that we both can learn something, and use it immediately. That we can see the value, and adopt the words, tools, vocabulary, shared world of growth. That Enoch and I had been to at least half a dozen workshops and we could never take it home with us. Never.
That Jeff and I would both agree that this workshop on Conflict is the most valuable one we've attended because we know how easily it is to get stuck here, to give up, to lose our way home. That we are committed to keep the slate clean, the clear the air and never let anything store up.
That he refuses to let a reaction or a conflict go unsolved, no matter how hard I try to distract him to let it go.
That we can take it apart and reflect on our learnings all the way home on a 2.5 hour drive. That we can give each other thoughtful appreciations the next morning and affirm why we are working so hard.

It's why I am with him. It's why this life is worth risking everything for.

Last Day of Vacation

It's my last day on vacation; I leave early to go to another workshop this weekend. And I cannot help but sit in awe of how the last couple of days were for everyone.

I can't speak for Enoch but I went into this past week with so much trepidation. It was such an important week on so many levels. This morning, I realize, a part of me didn't realize, how important. Yet another part of me did, because I notice this is the first vacation, I didn't go in with any "productive goals." I didn't have deadlines, writing practices, programs, objectives. I didn't schedule any new clients, or schedule phone sessions with old ones. I cleared my schedule, I put no agenda on the table. I actually let myself veg for the first few days. I was prepared for everything possibly to go wrong to do so. I braced myself to hold space for 3 even 4 other people. I gave myself permission for loads of self-care to be with a family that is 8 months into a divorce. 
And it couldn't have gone better.
I have to say I felt the prayers of everyone I asked for covering every moment. It wasn't like I didn't have faith in God to show up. But even I could admit, it was a pretty tall order asking a family that had been recently restructured to come back together again and remember what we were all about. 
But today as I reflected on the last few days, I am so overwhelmed with gratitude. I stand in awe at a God that once more has outdone himself. Here is the list so I will never forget.
It was amazing to even realize that for all the things Enoch and I couldn't agree on, if there was one thing we were on the same page - was that the kids were a priority. It was lovely to see what we've spent years investing and building still intact. Family vacations were a big part of our life together. And everywhere we went, we were bumping into memories and rituals; "Remember this?" and the things we loved doing as a family. It was lovely to go back to the Desert zoo and stand in the same corner we did when she was little with the giraffes in the background, to have her all grown up today. 
I am so grateful, I got to do the work around nostalgia weeks before. I see God's wisdom in being able to process that with Cheryl Strayed's podcast Dear Sugars, making a very clear distinction between appreciating the good times as well as being very clear, that it wouldn't work moving forward. 
I think if I hadn't done that work, I would grief-stricken, confused, and devastated that I had somehow lost all of the memories. But being able to hold both just as the podcast suggested let me authentically celebrate all the family vacation memories we did have, and make room for new ones. 
And this trip was evidence that we could make new ones. It confirmed that this was a new chapter in our life as a family, not simply because of the divorce; but because it is a time of change and growth for all the members in the family. And to expect things to be the same because of each other would be disrespectful. The kids are teens, they are growing up. They are supposed to pull away. I've shifted, grown and changed so much in the last decade, of course I am reinventing my life.
And somedays like Dr O says, I feel like the kids and I are in parallel process. Trying to figure out how much of my life is what I have decided to live for others, and how much of it I really want for me. And if I am going to want my kids to learn how to not be people-pleasers, draw boundaries, stay true to themselves and speak their truth. I am going to have to model it first. 
Like Dr O said, it is the only saving grace of this divorce. 

Anyway here is the Gratitude List.
Thanking God for: 

• Strength and flexibility to deal with Aidan's moods as he came home just the night before from a class field trip and was incensed we had a 630 am flight. 
• Strength to be with him the following day as I babysat him while dad and Nally had a great time in Disneyland ( and he wanted to sit and play video games all day in the corner of Hotel California )
• Strength and resources through Dr O and Jeff as he raged at me about the divorce.
• Wisdom to care for myself as I took a break and got my nails done.
• Strength and patience to be with 2 crabby post Disney-park people as they reunited with the family. 
• Beautiful suite, with ducks that soothed everyone. 
• The family recovering the next morning feeding the ducks at breakfast
• A fun street fair that happened only on the weekends with clothes and style that are "So me!"
• Nally and I's reunion after 6 months of her giving me cold treatment. 
• Resources to fuss over her with clothes and jewelry and to go shopping
• The family enjoying the art museum and allowing us to take our first family shots in months
• Enoch's great idea to get buffet that night and the kids loving every minute of it
• Strength to deal with Aidan and Nally's fight that night
• Strength and wisdom to deal with Aidan's rage the next 3 days ( refusal to eat with us and be with the family )
• Fun times bonding with Nally as a single child as Aidan is away 
• Fun night watching Mr and Mrs Smith
• Fun times going to the street fair again
• God's sense of humor in us celebrating Easter watching Jesus Christ  Superstar
• Fun day the next day going biking as a family and Aidan skateboarding behind dad
• Fun day for me working out the gym
• Nally and Aidan making up and going to the pool together
• Beautiful family dinner overlooking the sunset
• Fun night that night watching the Real O Neals
• Great day the next day going to the zoo.
• Fun spa treatment and facial
• Fun buffet and watching the real O Neals
• Great next day going to get breakfast and ice-cream
• The kids going to the waterpark.

  I told Jeff I got what I came for, which was:

• To show the kids that we are still a family
• To show the kid that daddy and I can still work together to care for them
• That daddy and I can be together without fighting
• That we can still have fun on family vacations.
• That I am so much happier divorced
• To have Nally and Aidan get along more
• To be reunited with Nally after months of being estranged.
• To know that I made the right decision to leave because of how non-interactive, silent, disinterested and depressed Enoch is.
• To be so grateful that this is part but not all of my life.

Boy Drama

The boy has been a pill this vacation.
First it was this full blown attack after he figured out I was on the phone with Jeff because I did not answer his text right away when I was shopping for food at Costco. He was in the car sleeping. Said some godawful things so much so I had to text Dr O for some orientation. With him I walk a fine line between being emphathetic about the trauma of the divorce and drawing some firm boundaries about respect and kindness. He has been in his sister's words " A dick." But after a full day of sulking, moodiness and rage while Enoch and Nally had a beautiful day in Disneyland, I was beginning to feel self-piteous and pretty rageful myself. Thanks to Al-anon I was able to figure out what I could control, and left him for 2 hours in a Bobo-Tea cafe while I got my nails done. 
It was a hard first day of vacation. I babysat a moody, teen who was too quick to push all my divorce guilt-buttons, while the other 2 Disneyland fans sent ecstatic pictures via the phone. When we finally got them, I didn't get the family dinner I wanted, instead E and I bickered on the 2 hour trip home. 
But the villa was beautiful and everyone was in a good mood the next morning. The boy even apologized when we got there, took back every mean word he said and confessed to not taking his meds.
We went to a fun local street fair, Nally and I bonded, the boys bonded and we all visited a art museum and took family pictures. Enoch even booked a buffet dinner that night at the JW Marriot of which the deserts  was such a hit with the kids. That is until Aidan and Nally got into an altercation.
I swear, this must be how the kids feel when Enoch and I go at it, because it took all of me to stay. I had to leave the table and go to the bathroom. The boy interpreted it as me not sticking up for him. I got a long lecture from the girl about how I possibly could put up with such terrible behavior. Despite 10 lines of text counseling. He decided that his family sucked and everyone hated him. And I decided to leave him to his process.
Except he was in his process for the next two days days. For the next 2 days, he refused to eat all meals with us. He wouldn't come out of his little corner of the villa. Enoch and I and Nally went out, we went shopping, to the pool. He chose to binge on cheese puffs and Youtube videos. 
I was incredulous. This was the kid that I worried would go to the ends of the earth to prove a point. On the Enneagram, he is the most powerful number - the Eight. And I swear, they would be the ones who would blow themselves up before they admitted they were wrong.
And true to form, he starved himself, isolated himself, even wrecked his ingrown toe-nail with a nail clipper ( of which I threatened to take him to get disinfecting shots .) Part of me watched amused, Enoch was alarmed. Even little girl was pacing nervously.
Somehow in built in me was a muscle that taught me how to carry on with my life completely insulated from powerful assholes threatening to ruin the family with their moods. I don't know how I grew it but I did. Granted I never had to really use it with Enoch since he was so even keeled. It must have been with Papa, because I can sit in front of a raging borderline and be calm as a cucumber. 
In fact, Enoch must have taught me this skill. Because the first time I saw him use it was when his father went just about bonkers and raged so badly that my sister left for the airport hours before her flight. That fateful day, I couldn't decide which was more eerie, how calm my husband was or how terrifyingly angry his father was.
I was a wreck in tears. In fact back then, I was the only member of the Choi family in tears because everyone else acted like it was the most commonplace thing to happen. A raging a-hole in the family. They sat around him in a family meeting with looks of disappointment. Even Ben who was in high school back then. I was sobbing the whole time and they kept shoving tissues in my face.
Guess I learnt to stop crying. In fact, if there was one thing I learnt in 23 years of marriage is to be un-impactable. When he didn't get into a residency where I could work, when he chose to do urgent care instead of family practice, when he said he was going to give up being a doctor during the dot-com boom. Calm as a cucumber, I was a true-blooded Choi.
Well, these skills come back to use when dealing with a hyperbolic 13 year old; and all through these last days I was certain to model the best attitude anyone can have on vacation. Nally and I chummed up. Totally reunited since the divorce announcement. Ever since then, she had been cool, aloof and punishing. Totally triggering the dejavu trauma of my mother's withdrawal during the years I dated the boyfriend she disapproved of. 
They were painful months. Months I grieved the death of a mother-daughter relationship that was unparalleled. "Your daughter thinks the world of you." her therapist said. Well that is until the divorce. Until I decided that it wasn't going to work out with Daddy. In the last 6 months, she had refused to talk about it, refused to work with the therapist, refused to talk to anyone about it.
Yet this trip, it was like old times. Between Aidan being a pill and her realizing that in the family, we are the couple that gets along the best; we fell into sync the way we usually did. Via singing, shopping, picking out clothes, identifying each other's style, facials and food. We have the same sense of humor, the same love for animals, the same positivity. Ironically, she and I are the most optimistic, the most joyful, the most even-keeled. We sing, we hum. We have a the same silly sarcastic sense of humor. It was amazing to be reunited with her again. It was so easy, as if we never left off. 
But the boy, the boy I woke up one morning and said. Enough is enough. Part of me was curious to see how long this experiment was going to last. Just yesterday, we found him taking steps out of his room, stomping around looking for food. 
But today, I woke up and said "You can stay in the room, but if we leave, we're taking the phone with us. "And I cut off data. It always works. It is the ultimate line in the sand. And for the first time, we all went out of the house like a family. We all biked. And Aidan skateboarded behind Enoch and we had an awesome time biking out in the greens on the property. 
And I was thrilled. 
Right now, he is with his sister at the pool. And the sibs are inseparable again. 
And I am so struck by how no matter how fun parents are, teens still need other teens. Children still relate best to their own. And at the end of the day, they get to have each other and that no matter what they can appreciate who they both are.

Post Divorce Vacation

We're in Palm Springs, our first family vacation after the divorce and I have been curious about it for weeks. Part of me wanted to know if we can still do it. All of me was determined to show the kids that we could do it; to demonstrate to the world and them and E that we were still a family. We don't divorce children, we divorce partners. 
A part of me knew we could do it. Me because I was determined to have the "best divorce ever" and Enoch because somewhere between his denial, his disconnection and his amnesia, I finally counted on the part of him that would forget ( like he's done in 23 years ) that we were ever "not good." And he did. We got along as if nothing changed. Except we are all, all 4 of us, sleeping in separate beds. 
It's hysterical. But because this vacation not only Enoch and I have changed. The kids have. Aidan and Nally are at wits end. And I almost wonder if they are fighting so we won't. 
But the boy is mad at his sister and he has quarantined himself from the family and drowned himself in Youtube videos and cheese pops. The way the apartment is set up is that he gets a secluded part of the suite all to himself. Part of me is relieved, because the 3 most flexible ones of the family finally gets to vacation together. Another part of me grieves the days we can all go out together. All this because he got into a fight with his sister and I "didn't defend him."
But all in all, I am so grateful for the resources and mind space to spend this week together. So aware that we are all settling into all the changes -- the hormones, the new roles, the shifting partners in this family. I am so struck by how independent the kids are now. They wake up, they make their own food. Enoch and I put food on the table and we are lucky if they eat them. 
If they don't they make the food they really like. Yogurt, brie on toast, pop corn. I never thought I'd miss the days when we actually get to control where they are going and what they eat.
Funny what used to be a burden is now a priviledge.

Shedding Divorce Guilt

Since the last couple of months, the kids have been settling. And since then, there has been an avalanche of new TV series normalizing divorce. Apparently now we are part of the 50% statistic that consist of all Americans. My girlfriends tell me that it is the norm now, apparently at this phase of our lives - just when the teens take off; the marriage is at its highest risk of falling apart. To my astonishment, women whom I had feared telling have been taking it in stride. I guess I must have been really insulated from this population of divorced women. 
But more than that, what's new has been the shedding of guilt. For the last 11 months since I announced it, I had been wrecked with maternal guilt as the one who "broke the family", who devastated Enoch, who made Aidan moody or Nally withdrawn. 
All those partially true, as the dust settles; I am bemused to realize that our family has always been disconnected ( Ie. I was the glue that kept it connected ) Aidan since last summer had started his mood swings; and Nally was already pulling away. 
Don't get me wrong, that twang of guilt is still there, when they comment on how "Things have changed." But things have been changing since last year. Last year at Family Camp, I'll never forget how I distinctly felt like it was the last year we were all going to be together.
True enough, this year. Nally renounces her faith, Aidan chooses his friends over his family ( which he was already doing on the cruise ) and I ask for a divorce. It was the like the uncanny eerie feeling of when I knew I was seeing my father for the very last time. I knew that pancake breakfasts and train rides and dance night was no longer going to be the center of our summers. Even the kids felt it in themselves. They were sad. 
That last family camp and the trip to Hawaii, when enoch and I chatted with a million other people and had the best sex in our marriage. I knew it was the pivotal point in our marriage. He took a video of us at the old spot on the beach, and even a stranger pointed out to him -- how gone I was. I was gone.
But these days, after bending over backwards these last months to prove to the family, Enoch, the kids and most of all myself, that I have not left, I am still the devoted ( if not overcompensating ) mother I've been my whole life, I have little patience these days for divorce tantrums.
The only thing that I can connect it to is that moment in time as a young mother when I knew in my heart I was a good mother, and Enoch couldn't pull maternal guilt on me anymore. Till then, anyone would just hint that I was a bad mother and I would just reel.
But I couldn't tell you this point in time after which that didn't work anymore. that It was this wild feeling of being sure to my bones that I was connected to the kids and nobody could convince me otherwise.
The biggest saving grace this vacation, which was worth every penny and every moment of possible awkward is my reunion with my daughter.
Being here, finally threw us both together; and we finally bonded in the starved landscape of this family. It's wild to realize that while we are so drastically different, we are the only ones who can survive Daddy's silent non-interaction and Aidan's moodiness. In fact, in the face of the latter, we have clung to each other gratefully.
I am tickled to realize what I bring to this family: I am the joy, the light, the chatter, the humor, the connector. My ex-partner is silent, he is the logistics, the transporter, the strategizer, the errand runner. He makes things happen. I feed, I care-take, I attune. I connect. The kids needs me.
And it's lovely to be able to connect with Nally again. Shopping, laughing, sharing humor and joy. It's funny. But we fit in so many ways because of the intrinsic commitment to joy we both have towards life.
It strikes me for the first time how silent my husband is, and how moody the boy is. And how lonely it was being in the marriage. 

 

My Apartment

Have been loving my apt lately. This month would be 4 months and it's kinda of evolved into many things for me. At first it was just a gorgeous place where I enjoyed the light, and the beauty of mornings. I loved walking down town and feeling like the hip single graduate student I never got to be. I loved eating at Fraiche and Sprouts and getting ice-cream or shopping at Whole Foods in the middle of the night. 
But recently, it's been such a refuge for me during the testing weeks of teen care. There is something so clear here where I feel like I can hear myself better. I love my kitchen, the light, the table. I make sure that there are fresh flowers on the table, a clean sink of dishes. I love that it's bare and simple and almost like a retreat house. I love that I take out the trash and make coffee and only have really healthy food in the fridge. 
I've been more sharing of it lately. Having people I love come in, for hot pot dinners, for a cup of tea. 
Yet on the other hand, I have been protective. The kids haven't seen it; and while a part of me wants them to, on a rainy day like this, a place for Natalie to study. I am kinda loving how its separate, a part of me that's finally and totally mine.
No messes, minimum clothes.  A tub that has instant hot water, and utilities I don't have to pay for . I can leave the lights on, run the water, and not worry about paying the bill.
It's funny because these days as Jeff and I talk about long term plans, I told him I don't know if I ever want to own a home again. Or rather, I don't know if I want to care for a home again. This studio is so perfect, my life is bare and simple here, and I can hear myself.
Every outfit in the house is accounted for, every utensil, every piece of towel. It's not gratuitous, it is not overkill. 
It is like a spiritual practice.

 

 

Teencare

It's been an exhausting weekend of teen care. And perhaps it's because I have been having consistent time off, I don't remember ever it being this exhausting even when they were babies.

Friday Night:
7PM Hot pot dinner at the house
1030 pick up Nally from show

Saturday AM:
930 Get Aidan Breakfast on Castro
10am drop off for Aidan for Chinese
10-1130 Sit in coffee shop with Nally while waiting
1130 Pick up Aidan
12pm Drop off Nally for afternoon show
1230 Drop off Aidan at home
1-4pm Watch Nally's last show
615 Go to one movie theatre sold out
710 Go to another movie theater watch Wrinkle in Time
9PM pick up Nally
1030 Drive home because she wants to stay out late

Sunday
10-12 Thank Goodness I get to dance
12-3 Bike to Downtown for lunch
3-4 drive to Sf for Nally's dance class
430-6PM take Aidan to skate park
6-8PM eat dinner in SF and drive home
8-9PM Desert at Fraiche

Either I am getting old, or I am doing more. But I get into bed at 9PM these days exhausted. Perhaps it's daylight savings or that I've spent the last 3 weekends in workshops. But the days I am in the house with the kids I am exhausted. But days like today when I look back on the weekend, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I dedicated every minute and hour to them. Like the old days. We have always been so intentional about our time raising them. Either in homeschooling, or excursions to the city, or to museums or events. There has been no lazing around the house. If we were at the house, we were in a party. 
These days between a full practice and the teen moodiness, parenting teens exhausts me. At least with babies, I have some control over who leads the excursion and where we are going. 
Something about teens balancing their freedom of choice, their attitude and their out of the blue planning "Mom I have a sleepover!" that catches me by surprise and throws me for a loop.

It is one long practice in relinquishing.control.

On Mothering

Recently a good friend of mine reached out to my mother. I had shared with her about the divorce and she had shared with me about her own similar angst with her mother. And for a split moment, we giggled and entertained the thought that perhaps she could bridge a connection of understanding and empathy to my mother in a way I could not. 
Her efforts were futile. And I couldn't tell you what was worse. Sensing and knowing that my mother couldn't get me. And having someone else verify it.
It was surreally similar to when Somaticans were slowly reflecting back to me, nuances of my marriage that I thought no one else saw.
I told my girlfriend not to try. It's ok, I said. I can't tell you what it's taken for me to be here. To be in the place of reconciliation and peace. My mother does not and will not get me. And thats ok. God will send maternal figures in my life to care for me. And He has.
Yet somehow the impact of that reverberates through me.
This morning, as I journal about it. My little girl bustles around me. There has been distance between us lately and some moments when I am fully present, embodied the grief is insufferable. When I see pictures of us on Facebook, blasts from the past, when she was still open hearted, willing to connect, completely bonded to me. 
On bad days, I wring my hands and tear myself to shreds. I say its the divorce, and I did this to her. On good days, I know it is adolescence and it happened and is happening to me and my mother and my parents are not divorced. 
On even better days, I sit and a commiserate with my mother, and the ache and longing I have for my daughter and how I would give anything to reconnect, yet time, developmental milestone, just where we are right now, forbids it. And it's like grieving the death of an old sweet friend. 
And days when I brush myself off and I say I don't care. Not even about my son. When I tell myself this is the perfect time for me to start my new life, and that I am so well differentiated compared to other women who have given their whole lives to their children, when I feel like I've prepared for this moment of their living so many times in the past 15 years, I have marks of emotional cutting to prove it on my arms. I had rehearsed their leaving countless times. Just like the divorce.
Over and over, I wake up and find them inside me. I am still bonded. Still missing them dreadfully. And it is excruciating.
This morning, God reaches for me, for the part of me that worries at 3am that I am missing something. I am dropping them. I am screwing them up because I don't remember that its teacher parent conference day and the boy is home for 8 hours and he gets depressed. And why didn't I know to plan a playdate.
Mornings like this, God points out gently that in spite of my mother, despite my mother, I turned out fine.
And every minute, I am fixated on the mother I am supposed to be and the children they are supposed to be, I am unavailable to them. Just the way my mother is unavailable to me right now.
It's a whole new definition of attunement. Letting go of what should be, what could be and really embracing what is.
And sitting and being fully available to the children the way they are right now. Sullen, preoccupied, tech-obsessed, anti-social, monosyllabic. And I can keep howling and protesting about the kids they used to be just a year ago. I can blame myself and try to be a better, newer, mother.
Or I can simply be with who they are right now. 
And ironically when I do, I stand the highest chance of connecting with them.

Jeff at Somatica

Last weekend Jeff and I went to Somatica for the couples training. This year, Celeste and Danielle actually let the therapists in training bring their partners. 
It was so wildly different from the Core training. The class went from 90 people to 30, from 30 men to 6 and there were just 8 couples. And so we got to be worked on by all.
It was such a wildly different experience being there with Jeff. Part of me was nervous and excited. God only knew he was. We had to preview all the different scenarios. But all the whole while, a part of me knew, this would be such a mild-blowing experience, to enter this space, this community that had changed my life with a partner. A real partner.
It's been so crazy because all year around, 90 Somaticans had watched Enoch and I with curiosity.  They know we are married. But we rarely hung out together. We didn't sit together in class, we didn't eat together at lunch. We were not in the same group. Through the whole time, I am perfectly content for him to run erotic exercises with others. Those who were close to me called what I always knew - we weren't together.
I will always be grateful for this amazing unique community. For these group of conscious insightful, open minded community who aren't afraid to say what they see. Those who were close to me told me - You've gone. You've already gone. They told him the same.
But it was this community that mirrored to me the 23 year marriage I refused to see. The one that every morning I would reset and make like it was ok. All his practice partners mirrored back to me the experience I had in my marriage - that he wasn't there. He wasn't present. He couldn't negotiate connection. He wasn't emotional available or capable. And they weren't even having sex or in a relationship with him. And they could sense all of that.
I remember weeping with relief and wanting to send all of them flowers. I always figured, he wouldn't show up for me because he didn't love me. But to realize that he isn't showing up for ANYBODY was mind blowing. It was such a confirmation, a relief and the beginning of deep sorrow.
Somatica let us consider opening our relationship, and getting our needs met elsewhere. It made room for Jeff.
I always tell him that if it wasn't for Somatica, I would never have noticed him. But something about being in community woke me up from 23 years of loneliness. I was so shut down. One thing I got from the year - I am connectable, lovable and worthy.
So it was so amazing to return to this community with my new partner. And part of me worried that they would judge me. Yet another knew, that those who could really see me, would get right away why I picked Jeff.
And they did. Every woman he "worked with" was in tears. Moved by his vulnerability, clarity and open-heartedness. I knew they would, the same way, everyone he touched at the Tantric Festival cried. But it was so amazing to see him navigate all my group members - moving them with his insight, his feelings and vulnerability. 
Danielle who got to work with us twice said "Where did you dig this one up from?" And I laughed and giggled. It was amazing; and just on some really bizarre level - normal.
Of course, this is my partner. Of course, he would be witty, and smart, and insightful. Of course we would banter in psychological babble and insight so personalized that the therapists who worked with us had to "shut it down." We laughed and laughed at ourselves and the idiosyncrasies of all the characters I had brought home to him all year.
He even got work with Catherine. And he handled it beautifully, navigating the limitations of her consciousness with grace and generosity.
He got to work with Airelee leveraging her gifts around navigating a kitty cat.
He broke through Sho Sho who is practically steel shut and defended. The first one to call my husband to the table when he could not show up present. 
He could to floor and charm Christine and even Aly, the hardest most defended formidable women in Somatica. He got under their skin, and disarmed them. Just as he did with me. They fell into his lap whole heartedly.
It was so amazing to be at the house with him, with Barbara and Ian. B is such a big part of the Jeff fan-club. And to have solid women endorse my choice was the maternal approval I crave so much from my mother.
" Have you gotten Jeff his coffee yet? She asked one morning.
" No, Jeff got me coffee." I said, "It's a whole new world."
" It's a GOOD world" she said. 

And I thought that interaction summed it up.
But perhaps the most amazing aspect of the weekend was to have Jeff witness me as a therapist. Toe see me at work, practiced, smooth and effortless. And to work together with a bunch of other clients to care for them.
And in  split moment, I caught a glimpse of what I always had a clue all along. That we would work well together. And that weekend was the confirmation I needed. I knew that it was the real litmus test I went for. Not navigating the social space as Jeff anticipated. But I wanted to know if we would have a calling together.

And as if a confirmation, when we begged Celeste and Danielle for the chance for him to come back with me for Advanced. They said yes. On the condition that he comes back and does Core. And in a split second our 2019 plans fell into place. He would do Core and I would be a group leader.
And just like that, he took baby but sure steps into a vision that I could barely articulate:
That we would take all our trainings, and workshops, our recovery and love for growth and teach and care for others one day. That we would run workshops together. That we would counsel couples. That he would take his amazing way with men and work with men. And I would work with the women and together we would care for couples. 

More than that it was so healing to have them embrace him so open-heartedly. Some were curious but all could see, how he is so wildly different. Why and how the marriage couldn't work. How 90 Somaticans couldn't qualify. This is my match. He is my partner.

It was f-king amazing and totally epic.

 

Parenting Teens

Had a sweet call with my Enneagram coach Mike and he gave me a sweet reminder of how the teen years were like when he parented. His kids are in their twenties now. How it's totally normal for the kids to be acting the way they are. Detached, preoccupied, self-absorbed.
Part of me knows this. I coach parents of teens, even estranged parents of older teenagers/young adults. And in a sense, I have been prepping for this moment my whole life, the age 15  for my daughter, the day "she will hate me" I know it's differentiation. I know not to take it personally. I know that happens to teens who don't do it on time. They just do it as adults later. I know what it's like to be triggered by disrespect and rejection, and to weep missing the little toddlers and kids they were just months or years ago. I know this. 
But it's still hard. I think it's confusing because a part of me blames the divorce for their behavior; and I know it complicates things. But another part of me knows, and Mike reminds me that he wasn't going through a divorce when his kids acted the same way.
So I sit here in awe about how much I depend on the kids for connection; that dependency makes the pain so much worse. How much I take pride in the connection I had with them, my identity as a mother. It was what was going to make up for the years of staying at home; for an unfulfilled marriage - at least at the end of the day- I have my kids.
And I know as mothers go, I am more than averagely differentiated. In preparation for this moment, I had made sure I had a life, had a career, had a network of women that reminded me of who I was besides a mother. I had prepared for this moment, the minute I hired a babysitter for when Nally was born. Since her infancy, I never missed a BSF.
Yet it is still hard. And it's moment like these that I marvel at the timeliness of Jeff in my life. What better distraction that to be loved by another person. And while a part of me feels guilty to be so well distracted another part of me wonders how people survive this season of parenting otherwise. These would be the loneliest years of my life otherwise, when the kids finally pull away; especially if the parent's couple-ship is strained. And I would have been with not one but 2 other preoccupied, detached, non-interactive, phone-absorbed people in the house.  It was be trifold triggered.
Last week was so bad, I finally melted own on Sunday and had to leave for 5 hours. As guilt-ridden as I was, I knew I did the right thing because I came home full, more resilient. They acted the exact same way and I didn't take it personally.
Today, in session, God asks me - what if my teens need right now, not a mom that is busy making breakfast for them every morning ( and getting hurt if they say no ), or planning special time, or rearranging my schedule to see them. What if they needed me, centered, relaxed and grounded every minute I am with them. Not needing anything from them. Full, and complete, happy and real.
That the most important thing I can give them right now is energetic. The days of me "doing things for them is over." And that right now, I just need to be someone they would actually enjoy "BEING" not doing around.

Working with Teenage Angst

Teen angst was brutal this past week. And I have new levels and  compassion for all my teen parents who are dealing with sullen, mono-syllabic, technology absorbed children. A part of me knows that all of my life I have prepared myself for this very moment when my babies ( close, cuddly and intimate ) disappear into the crack of their non-existent frontal lobes. But these days with the advent of the divorce, it's so easy to believe I caused it. I made them moody, shut down and angry. And there is a huge part of their angst in reaction to change and the loss of the family.
The only thing that keeps me in check is no other teen in my practice who are acting like they are are divorced. And I realize, divorce does not create troubled teens, troubled family situations do.
Usually with Nally and Aidan, both kids take turns being what they call "dicks." This week, the boy who is usually my sweetheart, was one from Wednesday to Sunday. Silent, on his phone, all through the meals, in the car. 
And I notice, the strangely familiar wash of triggers come over me. The same feelings of rejection and abandonment, feeling invisible, disrespected, and ignored, I feel with my husband all these years. The chilling sense of being in "Time out" when my mother didn't talk to me for 4 years when I dated my first love. Except this time I cannot divorce my kids. 
So I prayed, endured, journaled. I tried to be stronger, we sit with "open arms" this one coach told me. We up the self-care so we're strong, I walked the Baylands, prayed and had women friends over. I left work early, created date nights, fantasized about things to do. But by Sunday, after being raged at and over because I forgot to leave a note in the morning when I went out to exercise, I drew a line. 
"I'm going to dance class in Santa Cruz." I told him. "I've tried to set up 2 playdates. You're on your own this afternoon."
And driving down there on 17. I was wrecked with guilt. And in the 3-4 hours of class, everything and their mother went wrong. Nally said the credit card didn't work. Aidan complained she wasn't home on time. Buzz ran away. Nally didn't read her texts and thought I was picking her up. Everything and their momma went wrong.
I breathed, put out each fire and went back into the class; and then left an hour early to get home.
That night, after I rushed home, drove the girl to her girlfriend's house, took the boy out to dinner. Drove them home again, I sat there an congratulated myself for still holding onto me. 
Their demands were still their demands when I got home, they were still detached, on their phones and sullen. But because I had been full, cared for all afternoon. I didn't feel rejected, or angry or mad. I was able to remain interested, patient and open-hearted.
That night, when the light switched and they were "all nice" again. Aidan and I were doing homework next to each other and I copped to being really tried all weekend and needing the afternoon for a break. He turned and looked at me and said " Thank you for being patient with me."
And I felt for a moment, we were all doing the best we can. And if we could have compassion, assume 100% self responsibility, do the work to hear ourselves, ask for what we need, and resource ourselves. 
We would stand one fighting chance to making things work.

Teen Angst

Perhaps the hardest thing about this divorce is how it catalyst the kids teenage angst. Part of it was already coming, with Nally pulling away and Aidan being as moody as he is. We always felt that between the four of us, he was the one who was pre-menstrual.
But the family transition has been brutal on the kids. Mostly because it upp-ed their stress, and confusion, and most of all anger. Aidan has been the most outright about it, Nally more cool and internalized. And me when I am not grieving and blaming myself for how I brought this all on "early," how I have destroyed my children with the trauma of divorce, how I had taken two perfectly beautiful kids and thrown them under the bus; when I am not navigating all of that spinning; I am just downright pissed.
I know part of it is just a rite of passage. I know because my teen clients are not children of divorce. And just like Nelly and Aidan, they are withdrawn, sullen, angry, absorbed on their phones, entitled, demanding, shut down.
It's funny to notice my reaction, there is something about the "silent treatment" that gets me thrashing like a trapped bird. I feel so rejected, and so oppressed and so in despair that it is unbearable. I remember the moms of one of my first teen clients weeping looking at old pictures of her daughter, who is now 13 and practically "unrecognizable" I swore I'd never be like them, how I would brace myself nobly for the years they would "hate me." I even fortold it to my daughter all the years of her life - "one day you will hate me." 
Nothing prepared me for the sheer panic of being with shut down, angsty teenagers absorbed on their phones. It feels like the marriage all over again, and I could not handle it then, and I can barely handle it now. 
Today after 4 meals of both of them on their phones, I gave up and ran out for 5 hours for a dance class. Then I came back ashamed that mommy took it so personally she needed that amount of self-care. 
After four days of sullen silence, my daughter is warming up, and my son is coming around. 
Today I learned a new acronym - QTIP. Quit taking it personally.I guess I just needed to wait it out.

EMDR session

As an EMDR therapist, I am so ashamed to say, I haven't had many sessions myself. The few I had were phenomenal and life-changing; working on the panic attack I had taking my licensing exam.  But these days, out of the blue, I thought I'd gift myself with the decadent luxury of biweekly EMDR sessions with my therapist who "comes to the house."  The results have been amazing. So much so, I ask myself why did I wait so long to do this work.
It's funny but as a trauma therapist, it's my job to sniff out a trigger when I hear a story. I am trained to notice when something is a reaction or a post-traumatic stress reaction. Like my favorite teacher Hedy once said " How much of this energy is located in the present, and how much of it is in the past."  So I went into my session yesterday almost cavalier - saying to Jeff, "What do you think I should be working on honey?" almost as if perusing a menu at a restaurant. Nothing could have prepared me for the session I had. 
The target or the symptom I worked on was feeling trapped and stuck. And the float back was to the same couple of instances of trauma that I had written and revisited over and over. It amazes me to realize, how the same target can be processed so many different ways. 
This session, I floated back to the scene with Mary Tan and her throwing the theory book into the hallway every time I got the wrong answer. The fear, confusion and endless sense of time I felt in this whole exercise. The feeling was such hopeless sense of trapped-ness. Like I could not get out.
It explained so many things - why when Jeff wants to process a reaction I feel like I am trapped and stuck, how when Enoch doesn't answer or respond, I feel like I am imprisoned in time. When I can't seem to come up with the right answer, how I just want to thrash around like a trapped bird. It's so visceral. And my reaction usually is to blow things up, and it feels like when I do, it's the only way out. 
In my redo: I got to dig my heels and refuse to move and I saw for the first time Mary Tan's face fall. She was discouraged. She was in despair and she finally called my mother. It completely struck me how I had no voice through it all. How eventually, in real life the only way I could get out of it was for me to run a fever. The numbers on the thermometer was the only way to signal distress.
Another redo was for someone to witness this. This happened, repeatedly, over and over and no one witnessed it. There was no way to tell my mother and I didn't trust her to believe me. In my redo, I had the grown up me go in and get me in the dark hallway. That I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to do anymore. Anything that scared me.
It explained so many things. How this marriage happened and I didn't believe anyone could see it. How I doubted myself about how it hurt me. Did it happen if nobody saw it ? How I still need so many validations and signs to validate an experience I have. How I force myself to do things I don't want to do over and over again, believing I don't have choice. It was so scary. Mostly because of the repetition aspect of it; and it connected to how knee-jerk an aversion I have towards anything with repetition - nagging, repeating, circling, looping. There is something distressing about it. I get so insulted and anxious with it.
The second target was Papa teaching me Math. And with that one, the feelings were despair, confusion, shame. Like I had given everything I could and it wasn't enough. Like he thought I was careless but I really didn't know the answer. Like he couldn't see me for who I was, and I was too ashamed to tell him that I really didn't know.  It really explained the despair and passivity that overwhelms me when I am feeling cornered. The last target was fearful, but this one was almost like resigned surrender.
It reminded me of the panic attack I had when I did my second licensing exam and I ended up curled up in fetal position in the same state as someone who was imprisoned by a captor - "Just tell me what you want me to say and I will say it. " It doesn't have to make sense, it doesn't have to be right. I'll do whatever you tell me to do just let me go. My friend Elizabeth had to talk me off the edge.
The redo with that one was beautiful. I had redid it before with Papa taking me out of Nanyang and putting me in the Singapore American School. But this time, I redid Papa. I took the playful, Floor time father I had as a toddler and made him the dad the tutor. Papa taught me Math the same way he played with me -- with curiosity, with joy, with non-judgement; with perfect attunement, that he got where I was and he was going to teach me Math, in a way that matched my brain. Together, we even picked a college that would work for me. That would match my learning style. It was as celebratory and intimate as when we used to draw together. 
In my last session, we got me out of there. This time in our redo, I actually re-did my dad and I's relationship. 
It was amazing. 

We filed.

We filed yesterday. Enoch signed. At 2.30 pm yesterday 23 years of marriage came to an end. It was a bittersweet moment. 
On Monday, we had decided to see two mediators. One his choice and one mine. And I went in anxious and nervous. Worried for the first time in 26 years, the financial savvy, street wise husband of mine would turn against me. I went in hurt, that after freely giving up child and spousal support, he wouldn't give me what I thought was rightfully mine - half the house, saying that it was his parents. He said it was not his to give. Part of his inheritance. I raged. I went in praying for two things: a sense of protection, and a tangible means of appreciation for all the work I've put in in the marriage, this house, the kids. To me it was symbolized so much in the house, and his withholding that, devastated me. That again after 26 years, his parents, issues of money, codependency, stood between us.I had 4 women praying for me. One of them - my pastor.
And God totally showed up. 
He did; in such minute details it brought tears to my eyes, honoring both our wishes and desires. Not just the monetary ones. The mediator pointed out that:

• The law protects the inheritance. The initial principal, so indeed I cannot have half the house.
• The income earned from his other properties and all of his inheritance though goes into the larger a picture for spousal and child support.
• I don't pay 50/50, I pay proportionally to the entire portfolio of income he receives. 

I weep at God's brilliance. 
How God honored Enoch's desire to protect his parents' inheritance.
Yet he insists that he acknowledges that he has a greater means to provide for me and his family than his job income.
How if I agree to spousal support, I would receive a check of support from my husband for the next 11 years.

I realize that I don't care what's on the check. But that I am acknowledged for all the work I've put into this marriage. How I have supported his career by staying home and putting mine on hold. How I had sacrificed the most productive years of my life career wise. 
How ironically I gave up child and spousal support and then complained my husband doesn't appreciate me. How that was so clinical and symptomatic of our marriage. That I refuse to receive support and appreciation then feel devastated when I am unseen.

I don't know what we would eventually decide but knowing our rights has given us a greater us both a greater appreciation for how we can care for each other.

My husband and I spent from 10-5pm together on Monday. The longest in a while. It was surprising to realize how natural it was. Some parts heartbreakingly familiar - like the silence in the car when I was driving and he was playing Pokemon GO. In the past, I would have lost it, felt so abandoned in the silence, that he wasn't leading or initiating conversation; that we finally had some private time away from the kids and that was how he wanted to spend it. But today, having Jeff, having someone who wants to be with me; ( which is ironically the simplest definition of why I am leaving: I want to be with someone who wants to be with me )I found myself calm, full, willing to let him play. I turned on the music and listened to my favorite song.

It's funny because he came alive once we were picking a place to eat. And that was when I realized my husband is such a simple man. He just wants someone next to him, and someone to eat with. And that in essence ( plus sex ) was the definition of marriage for him. The heartbreaking thing is I need so much more.

The next day, I woke up and found new energy and care for him. It was as if, now that the boundaries are clear, the relationship redefined, I can finally care for him in a free and liberated space. Not out of anger, or deprivation, disappointment and betrayal. It was the day of the Red/Blue Moon and he texted me a sweet message reminiscing of the day he asked me out -the day of the full moon. And we pledged to care and support each other for the next 26 years ( he said till the next Blue/Red Moon )
It was heart breaking and tragic; and every bit what needed to happen. Today I wake up to a new excitement to the new chapters in our relationship. I have a strong sense that Enoch will always be in my life and I in his. Just in a different capacity. Maybe, hopefully and surely a good one.

Thank you God.

 

 

 

The Ends of the Story

The kids have settled and these days I rarely struggle now with this idea that I have ruined their lives. The guilt that I am not caring for them 100% of the time still lingers. But I figured that is the just the regular maternal guilt of having anyone else but us care for our kids.
What does emerge is this new curiosity of how people perceive our divorce. Jeff says it's none of everyone's business. But perhaps its the Four in me, that has spent years crafting this perfect story that feels indignant that now I don't get to write the final chapter of my marriage.
Years ago, when I told God that I was in the last 10 years of my marriage, I had begged him for an exit that is dignified and true; that honors all the years I have put in "doing the right thing." These days, I hold the tension and the grief of knowing that my husband gets to tell the story of our marriage any way he wants. One bad days, I believe everyone of the stories I imagine him telling. On good days, I try to respond with what I know to be true. Here are both.

NC: I had an affair. 
Truth: In the window of time that Enoch and I opened our relationship, we agreed for me to outsource emotionally and him sexually. I was pretty clear telling him that in 26 years he was not my primary relationship ( primary: meaning the sole/main relationship responsible/capable of care and feeding.) When I met Jeff, I knew he was my primary.

NC: I left my husband for another man.
Truth: I left my marriage a long time ago.That's how I coached myself to flourish. Act as if. I raised the kids so that they would function independently without him. I built a full and flourishing life within it. I told myself why leave now. For what? For whom? Today I leave him because there is someone I would like to be with.

NC: I am cheating on my husband
Truth: Every step of this unfolding: the opening, the connecting, the meeting up with other partners, the communication and connection with others ( at least on my part ) has been above board, transparent and honest. I communicated as much as I knew: 
- You are not my primary.
- I don't want to have dis-associative sex with anyone ( including my husband )
- I am outsourcing emotionally not sexually.
- The new relationship is non-negotiable.
There is all these new talk lately about ethical non-monogamy, Jeff and I talk about it all the time since the dance community is primarily open. What we appreciate about that community is the level of self awareness and transparency that I think puts the monogamous community to shame.

NC: I have traumatized my family/ generations ( as my sister puts it ) with the instance of divorce.
Truth: Families are traumatized equally by divorce as well as marriages that stay intact for the wrong reasons. While divorce is not ideal. I want to pass on the even more important values of self-awareness, ownership, taking responsibility, self-compassion, imperfection, and taking charge of your life for mistakes made; the courage to course-correct and create the life you want.

NC: I have ruined for my children the principle and idea of marriage.
Truth: When I think about the years when I felt nauseous at weddings, I realize now that I was furious that people fed me the myth and illusion of the perfect marriage. We don't know if marriage will work, there is no such thing as the One. I have been praying for him since I was 13 years old. Jeff is great, but I am under no illusion now that our faith, romance, love, commitment is going to get us through the next 26 years. It's going to be sheer hard work and the question I have is "How hard do you want to work? "
When I asked my family therapist to craft an answer for the kid's questions. "If you tried so hard and it didn't work, how do we know if ours will?"
The answer she gave was so honest and true: We don't. We pick our partners according to the level of self awareness we have when we do. We can only work on ourselves and be as conscious as we can, and continue to grow daily. When we do, we stand the best chance in choosing and being in a healthy relationship that will last.

NC: Given my new views of sexuality, I am now non-Christian.
Truth: I haven't become non-Christian. I have become human. And being human is complicated, complex, fluid and changing. And as my children grapple with the relevance of their faith. I struggle to find resources in the church that support pleasure, desire, self-awareness and ownership that doesn't include shame. My new sex education with the children now includes - de-shamifying arousal, owning desire, trusting/learning how to manage desire, choosing and making good choices about our partners that go beyond their future occupation, if they sleep around, drink or hit you. 
I don't want them watching porn, sleeping around or treating women and men poorly. I don't want them to be saying yes when they mean no, and saying no when they mean yes, or spending the first half of their life feeling shame for having sex and the post-marital years shame for not having sex. I don't want them making decisions because "God says so." I choose to believe God has wonderful, incredibly complex "non-Christian" reasons why he wired us the way we did. My job is to help my kids understand that His greater design works best and here are the reasons why.