You mean like the groundhog Phil?

kstyle's comment to the last post resonates with something that was rattling around in my head as I trudged across the tundra yesterday (though I did not end up at St. Alphonso's pancake breakfast*). One of the things that has been really important to me, as you know, has been my effort to respond to Chuck with some measure of compassion--not in the "pity" sense, but in the sense that all of us need compassion. I settled on that as a goal nearly a year ago, as I was trying to figure out how to wade through the business that remained between us, and my aim at the time was to figure out a way to divorce with a minimum of nastiness. You can try to assign blame and responsibility all you want (though it's not my preferred strategy), or, it seemed to me, I could let go of that and hope that eventually Chuck could, too. I also decided that I wasn't going to let his actions decide mine. I know a little of my own strength, and a lot of his weaknesses, and I certainly could have destroyed him--and I recoil at the thought of that. I did not want to choose a path that could lead anywhere near that territory.

I worried a little bit about being taken advantage of--and, indeed, some of my friends and family worry about that on my behalf as well--but I really, really, really did not want us to devolve into rounds of bitter recriminations. What good would that do? If anything, it would just cause more pain, for everyone involved. Would it change the past? Would it fix anything? Not as far as I could see. And it had become clear to me that our relationship as a marriage was over: I knew that I would not trust him, no matter what he did, at this point, and I knew that lack of trust was toxic to the kind of partnership that I (and, I think, he) wanted to have.

But still. I wanted to stay in CK's life, if I could. I also want(ed) Chuck to find the healing he needs. He didn't lie to me out of malice--I've always known that--and he did not want to hurt me. That does not, in my mind (or heart), excuse his behavior, or make it acceptable in any way, but I think it's relevant that the malice was absent, and that's the part of him for which I wanted to make room, if I could and he would.

And I have to give credit where it's due. Chuck has responded to that. The nastiness has stopped--for several months now, and through the actual divorce, so I don't think it's merely a break in the action. He has continued working with his therapist, and even on some of the deeper crap that he's always avoided before. He has paid me each month.** I'm coming to think that the groping we've both done toward some kind of peace with each other has had effects that I didn't intend.

I've come to see that it's really important, for him, to be able to pay me each month. Will I ever see all of my money? Who knows. But he is trying to make it right, rather than blowing it off or trying to get out of it, and that counts for something, for him at least as much as for me. For another thing, he now will freely tell you that he can see how much CK enjoys seeing me, and he will acknowledge how I welcomed CK into my life; he actually got a little choked up about that the other night, when we were talking about how CK doesn't remember me not being around. A year or so ago, Chuck was less willing or able to see or say that, and he has changed on that score as well. Who knows what will happen? Again, it's not the point. In both arenas, it seems to me, it's the process that's important, not least because part of that process has to do with healing, with being the person each of us wants to be.

I suppose it could still fall apart; I have no clue. At one point the other night, I said, you know, maybe what we're supposed to be is friends (as opposed to spouses, I meant). I have no idea if that's possible. But I don't have to figure that out now, and neither does he. The process of trying to do the right thing feels useful to me, no matter the outcome of the specific action or relationship.

Meanwhile, I woke up this morning and thought, I don't have anything to do today. Which, really, is completely false. I have a manuscript to finish editing (I finished the first pass last night, and this will take a lot of work), and, really, the apartment could use some cleaning (the floors are suffering from wet-boot effects), and there are those two closets that remain uncleaned, but the sensation remains. It's not a completely unpleasant sensation, either, I should point out, despite the occasional mild freak-out about not having an actual job. The upside of not having a job is that I'm going to finish this editing job early, too--weeks early, by the look of it--which clears the way for finishing the third job early as well, and clears the way for additional work if it comes my way, or needlepoint if it doesn't.

And, hey, I might even spend some time doing needlepoint this weekend. The current plan is to do some editing today--as much as I can stand--and maybe even go to a yoga class tomorrow. There's some talk of seeing Friend, but no definitive plans; whether I see him depends on when he gets up today, what time he leaves his sister's tomorrow, and probably the weather and the alignment of stars and planets and who knows what else.

But needlepoint! That would be kind of cool.
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*That was your gratuitous Zappa reference for the day.
**No, it's not a lot of money, and it'll take him 30 or 40 years to pay off the whole thing at the current rate. And you know what? I don't care. It's the principle, rather than the principal, of the thing.