Polepole

Reaching 5895 meters above sea level, Mount Kilimanjaro is the world's tallest free-standing mountain and the highest peak in Africa.*  At the tender age of thirteen, I along with my sister and my father, set out to conquer Kili.  Eager, and with spring in our steps we began the journey, three and a half days up, one and a half down.  We carried only our day packs and were ready to run with the gazelles up the constant incline.  Our guide, however, warned us against such sprints.  His advice was simple, "polepole" - slowly.  The idea was that going slowly at a sustainable speed would be quicker than a binge and purge approach.  It's the story of the tortoise and the hare.  It worked.  Our trek was slow, but it was consistent.
Polepole.  I am often overwhelmed at how much I have to learn, how much I have to grow.  I have goals of being totally humble, completely faith-filled and perfect.  While those goals are great things to aim for, they are not achieved over night neither are they achieved sprinting.  Polepole.  I hope that every day I can become a little more humble, gain a little more faith and move closer towards perfection, but the journey is long, the destination is still far away.  What matters though is that I am on the journey, I am taking steps, no matter how polepole, in the right direction.
You might think this is a poor analogy if I tell you that I never made it to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro.  However, even in that there is a lesson to be learned.  The goal set out for us was to summit for sunrise.  My sleep, uncomfortable in a dorm of strange men and women, was cut short when I was awoken a little after one and beckoned to begin the journey heavenward.  It was dark, the steep trail lit only by our head lamps.  I was tired, grouchy.  Our goal, which had previously been hidden from us by the clouds, was now cloaked in darkness.  There was greater urgency than in the previous days.  If we were to make our goal, we had to keep going.
I couldn't keep up.  I didn't feel well.  Whether it was because of the altitude, the physical exertion or the lack of sleep, i do not know, but I felt miserable.  I begged for a break, and in the darkness I sat down.
I couldn't do it, I told them, and then I was told that I didn't have to.  I could go back to the scary dorm room filled with strange men and go back to sleep.
The choice was mine - conquer Africa's highest peak or go back to bed.  That was a big choice for little 13 year-old me.  I knew hours of hiking were still ahead.  The summit seemed to be nothing more than a fictitious promise, and surely the sunrise couldn't be that amazing.
I'm convinced I could have made it.  While altitude sickness seems to be the most honourable excuse, I think I was just tired.  Had I gotten up, taken just one step and then another, polepole I would have made it to the top.  However, my sister, rather than encouraging me along, gave me a ultimatum.  Now or never.  "Let's go, and if you can't, then you go back and let us go on."**  I went back.  I spent the night coward in a corner of the dorm room hoping and praying that the men wouldn't touch me.  So much for sleep.
My sister and my dad when on to summit the world's tallest free standing mountain while I stayed behind.
I'm thankful for the people who haven't left me behind as I journey to become more like Jesus.  I too often I'm pouty, I sit down and complain that I can't do it.  Every time I do, someone comes along and tells me to get up, to take another step, to look back at how far I've come, remember the strength I've been given thus far and to carry on.  Little by little, inch by inch, do whatever I can do, and if all I can do is sit there for a minute or two, that is better than retreating.  I love that the Gospel asks us just to do however little it is that we can.  What matters is that I am on the right path, not the speed at which I am progressing and while I want to sprint towards the goal, I can't.  It is too far away, but everyday I can learn something new, I can put into practice everything I've learned and step by step, polepole, I'll get closer to my goal.  Will I succeed?  Ultimately the choice is mine.  A choice made up of a thousand choices.  On Kili the choice was mine and this is no difference.  I'm just thankful for those who have made the choices easier, who have encouraged and supported me and reminded me that I am where I need to be.  I'm on the journey, I'm on the right path, I'm going in the right direction and that's what matters.



*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Kilimanjaro
**I feel like I should defend my sister.  She's great and we had a lot of fun together hiking up Kili.  She was also a teenager, grumpy from not getting enough sleep, and well you can't expect much patience from a 16 year-old.  She likewise has made little steps towards greater change, so when she decided that we should run 15 miles a couple years ago, and with less than a mile left I just wanted to give up, she wouldn't let me.  She encouraged me every step and told me I could do it.  It turns out that she was right, but I couldn't have done it alone.  Thanks.

Puddle

The day is warm, but still very wet.  The melted snow has yet to find its way down a drain and into the river.  The sidewalk is mostly clear as I stroll home, but I watch my step.  A makeshift stream flows down the hill, first on one side of the sidewalk, and then the other.  I step over the water with ease.  As I continue along, the path flattens out, and I have only the occasional puddle to step around.  I carry on.  Suddenly I’m confronted with a puddle of a monstrous size.  It stretches across two or three sidewalk squares and is at least 5 centimeters deep.  The murky water stands in my way.  I freeze.  I contemplate going further; I want to go further; if I am ever going to get home, I have to go further!  But I can’t; I’m stuck.  I think about turning around, backing away, or calling a friend to ask for a ride home.  I can’t call a friend.  They’d laugh at my problem and say it’s small.  Besides, who would I call?  My problem isn’t small.  It looms over me, unconquerable.  I have to get home.  I can’t.  I can’t get home.  I’m never going to make it there.  I’m trapped.  My vision blurs.  I feel a tear sliding down my cheek.  I bite my tongue and blink away the tears.  There has to be away, I tell myself.  But, I cannot see the way.  I cannot see past the puddle that forbids my progression.  I’m ready to give up.  I sit down and wait for the puddle to dry up.  It might take days and I am helpless.  A sudden wind comes upon me, causing me to shudder.  I can’t stay here.  I can’t wait for things to change.  I have to do something.  Tears are sliding down my cheek again.  They’ll only make the puddle bigger.  I have to do something.  I stand up in search for another way around.  On either side of the puddle, the grass is saturated with water, marshland.  Walking there would be no better than walking through the puddle itself.  I look up at the sun, feel its warmth against my face and push aside the discouragement that keeps creeping into my mind.  When I look back down at the water, I see my reflection looking up at me.  She’s pathetic.  Her eyes red from tears, her hand clutching her phone, hoping that someone will call and help her along, or at least listen to her complaint.  “I’m here,” I tell my reflection.

“I can’t do this.”

“Come on.  We’ll do this together.”

I look again along the banks of the puddle.  A short distance to the right lays a strip of packed snow that I hadn’t noticed before.  If I can get there, I can follow it to the other side.  It’s not much of a leap, but I’ll have to jump.  I look around once more, but I have no other option.  I focus on the snow, bend my knees and then I’m in the air.  When I land, I left out a sigh of relief.  I follow the slippery island to its other end, and with one large step I am back of solid ground.  I glance at the puddle splotched sidewalk before me, hold my head high and carry on home.

To the Seed Throwers

I've been feeding crows, they're hungry, and I give into their desires so easily, that they always come back.  They pick at the seeds, mock them, and then carry them away.  Their presence brings peace for a moment, but it is as fleeting as the birds themselves.  I think about building a scarecrow, to make these birds leave me alone, but I love the birds, they're my friends, I'd hate to frighten them away.

Scatter the seeds, scatter some more; despite the crows, hopefully one grows.

The soil is rocky, I know, the ground is hard clay.  Doubt and fears abide.  Though sprouts may come, life is hard, quickly then life dies.  To clear the rocks that keep me safe is such a dangerous game.  But game it's not!  It determines my lot, and if plants don't grow, I'll erode away.

Scatter the seeds, scatter some more; despite the clay, one might find a way.

The weeds abound, and at least they flower; bud, blossom, shrivel, and their seeds give way.  Their beauty - fleeting- but still beautiful.  I cannot, will not tear them out.  The good seeds, though they try, are choked by the vines, overpowered in their shade.

Scatter the seeds, scatter some more; despite the weeds, hopefully a seed succeeds.

Tired of Eating More Than My Share of Power Pie. Can I Give My Oversized Peice Away?

I’m sick of power pie.  I’ve had more than my share.  Though my income is pretty small compared to those in Canada, in 2012 I made more money than 85% of the world’s population (now see here).  In our world systems, money is very closely connected to power, so is education.  I have a high school diploma.  I am almost done my undergrad.  I also have power just from being white and speaking English. 

I wonder if I’ve created God in my image.  I want him to be the sort that gives up his power because I want to give up mine.  I wanna be free from responsibility.  Every time I buy something I make a choice that is connected to the well-being of others.  With our economic systems that function efficiently with underpaid labourer, my purchasing power all too often buys into their games.  I don’t like it.  Power seems like a dirty thing to me and I don’t want any of it.  Thoughts like these make me want to leave Canada, sell all I have and move to Liberia and work as a casual labourer on a farm.  It’s tempting because it would take away my choices and leave me with very few remaining options.  It is tempting because I would no longer be an oppressor.

When Simba’s dad died, he asked uncle Scar what he should do.  “Run” Scar replied, “Run far away and never return.”  Simba ran.  He ran until he was exhausted, made new friends and began a new life of fun times and little responsibility.  He had no worries.  However, in his absence the Pride Land was oppressed by Scar and the hyenas.  There was poverty and mass starvation.  Somehow Nala found Simba and begged him to come back to the Pride Land and take up the responsibility he once had.  She is convinced he can make a difference, and he can.

Well, Lion King is far from perfect, but it challenges the way I think about running from power.  It does so happen that I have power, and perhaps I should us it for good.  But that sounds wrong.  I don’t want to justify a means for any end.  But maybe power isn’t as dirty as I make it sound.  It is quite possible that there are two (if not more) ways one can use their power.  Power can be used to control (and I want to stay far away from that), or it can be used to influence.  Rather than talking about the power I have, perhaps I should recognise and embrace my ability to influence others.  Anyhow, I am not sure yet.

I have power.  Is it wrong to use power for good?

The Weakness of God - Does God Deny Power Pie?

            Weeping, moaning, begging for his life, but no.  He is taken, tortured.  Slowly, slowly he is killed, alone, abandoned.  This is the man called God.  Those were his last moments.  He did not fight when the soldiers came for him.  Silently he was led to his death, nailed to a cross, raised up as a spectacle and mocked.  Thirsty, he was thirsty.  If anyone, he had the right to ask the good God why there is evil, and he did.  God cried out from the cross “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

            Christian philosophy requires a radically unique approach to the problem of evil.  It must account for the murder of its God, thus reconsider what it means for such a being to be all-powerful.  It seems evident, though some would disagree, that evil in the world is counter to the will of God.  If God is all-good and all-powerful, logically he would rid this world of all evil at once.  Unfortunately he does not.  Humans continue to perpetuate evil and suffering.  An explanation for this evil in the world is that God, in love, has abdicated power to his human creation so he could be in a self-giving relationship with them.  A god who gives power to humans becomes weak, because he has given humans control and cannot take it back.  This is the God whose weakness is ultimately manifested upon the cross.

            A good god will do what is good, always, regardless of the foreseen consequences.  While God made many rocks and trees, he needs not give himself to them.  They wouldn’t notice if he did, but God wants to give himself to his creation.  The Christian God is believed to be communal and eternal love.  Love wants to love relationally.  To do so, God needed to create beings that were like him.  He made humans creative, capable of love, and then shared his power with them.  Power, unlike love, is not infinite.  That is to say while giving love does not cause the giver to have less love, giving power results in the giver losing power.  If love is like procreation, an act that multiplies itself, power is like a pumpkin pie.  When God shared power with humanity, he had less pie for himself.  He did this because love, and therefore God, is relational.  In the same way that oppressed peasants do not seek friendships their relentless oppressors, humans would not desire a relationship with an all-controlling being.  God became weak so humans could become strong and a relationship between them could flourish.

            Since nothing is impossible for an all-powerful God, could he not have created humans to have a relationship with him without limiting his own power?  Had he not given them power, or if he had given them the ability to make a few choices, but ultimately retained a trump card, he would have had a control based relationship with his creatures.  However, love is not controlling and God loves humans.  This required bestowing power upon them, even if they were prone to perpetuate evil.  The love God has for humans is a love that allows them to do as they please.

Since God was all-powerful, it would have been possible for him to have created humans with freewill who always chose goodness.  Freewill without creatures ever choosing evil is a logical possibility.  God, looking ahead, could have conceived how his creatures would act if he created them as he did and have created them differently.  If he was really good, why did he not create humans with freewill who never chose evil?  To address this valid concern, a distinction must be made between freewill and power.  An example from a common parenting technique will distinguish between the two.

            Poor Billy is sick.  His mom wants him to take medicine so that he will get better.  Billy does not want to swallow the pill, so his mom gives him a choice.  He can take the pill with milk or with apple juice.  Billy feels empowered, chooses apple juice and takes the pill.  Billy, however, does not have real power in this scenario.  He does have a real choice, but his choices are limited.  If Billy could knock his mom over and refuse treatment all together, he would have power.  Human power goes beyond freewill.  It is the ability to do things beyond the will of God.  God does not hold a trump card.  In giving power to the people he has emptied himself.  He is not in control.  However, if he was in control when the world was set in motion, couldn’t he have ensured that his creatures would do as he desired?  No.  God is not a controlling being.  It must necessarily be that the power God has given humans controls destinies and can act against God’s desired intent.  Humans can knock God over and refuse treatment all together.

            Many believe in situations like the one above the mother should force her son to take the medicine for his own good.  This may very well be the case if the son is three.  However, if he is thirty the social consensus seems to be that his mother should not take away her son’s power and force the pill upon him.  Though it is right to do that to a child, it is very wrong to do it to an adult.  In the same way that a mother does not have power over her adult son, God does not have power over his human creation.  He has given it to the humans, and does not have the ability to take it back.  Like a parent who must give power to their adult children and hope their relationship can continue based on love, so a loving God gives his human creations power and hopes they chose a relationship with him.

            Even though it seems impossible that a once all-powerful God could somehow become less powerful, this would not be impossible for the all-powerful being.  This is not to say that God still has complete power, but he has restrained himself from using it.  Contrarily, God has relinquished his power.  This is where the metaphor of a power pie comes in handy.  As God gave power to his human creation to rule over nature and themselves, he retains less and less of the pie.  It is not that he holds himself back from using certain powers, but that he no longer has those powers to use.  It appears that omnipotence is a trait which God possessed for a time and then gave away.  If God wished to retain his power, he could have created a different world, where his creatures had freewill, but God still had all the power.  As it is, I am not convinced that God likes pumpkin power pie all that much.  Though, when he was alone he held it, he never indulged in the pie; rather, he freely gave it away as he created.  Had God kept the power to himself, offering humanity freewill but hold the trump card, he would not have created beings in his image with whom he could have full relationships.  He desired such relationships so he could love, serve and give himself to the other.  Some may ask if a being who is not all-powerful is still a god.  However, a better question is this: is a being who is all-powerful still good? 

            Many humans cry up to the sky, hoping for a powerful, mighty rescue.  When their pleas are met with silence they cry out, “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me.”  Trapped in the midst of evil, humans long for a powerful being to take control and set things right.  In the face of violence, poverty and environmental degradation they feel helpless, alone.  But central to Christianity is the notion that God has not abandoned his creation.  One possible way to hold this belief in the face of evil in this world is to consider that God’s goal is love, and his means to that end cannot be power or control; rather it is love.  This is seen when in weakness, as a baby, God came down to his creation.  Though it may have been hoped that he would come with power and overthrow the Roman Empire, he chose a different way.  It was the way of forgiveness, material minimalism and self-sacrifice.  In his death he showed that there is influence in love, a different sort of influence.  Not one that is controlling, but one that is compelling.  It is an invitation to weakness; it is an invitation to love.

            A central Christian premise is that God is love.  It is the very essence of who he is, and so he made humanity to be creatures he could relationally love.  Therefore, he did not maintain control over them.  Rather he gave them power to control themselves and rule over creation.  Humans have held onto their power, using it for their own good and thus causing evil in this world.  While God hates evil, he no longer has power over his creation.  He cannot control them and so he seeks them out.  In ultimate weakness God embraces humanity, becoming one with them, serving them and being murdered by them.  The Christian God knows suffering.  He has felt the torment of evil and yet he was helpless.  He looked his murderers in the eyes, unable to do anything but forgive them.  In love God gave power to his creation, and in love he compels them to give it away. 
            “Come,” God beckons, “come.  Deny your power, embrace weakness and follow me.  Abandon control and seek mercy, justice and love.  Look, I am making all things new.  I am your hope, your servant, your lover.”

My Other Abusive Relationship

When I first moved here it was without specific ambition.  I spent the first few months floating around with no certain idea of what I should be doing.  I had met you briefly years ago, and fallen in a childish love.  Since I was not sure what I should be doing, I sought you out, wondering if you’d remember me.  I thought you might be able to help me fulfil my dreams.  For a month I relentlessly pursued you until we finally had the chance to meet face to face.  I was nervous.  I was sure you wouldn’t remember me from our first meeting; I had been just a kid.  I told you what I wanted but you offered me something else.  Desperate, and having no other options, I took it. 

I dearly wanted for thing to work out, but we were not communicating well.  I brought this to your attention and we came up with a solution.  Then things were really good.  I enjoyed my time with you.  You bought me a phone, having paid for my plan ever since, so that we could stay in contact.  We had great conversations.  We laughed together and worked together.  I felt like I was getting things done, and enjoying the process.  But it was like I only knew one side of you and that side left.  You changed and suddenly I felt lonely.  I worked alone, and you didn’t even seem to care what I was doing.  I tried to motivate myself, but I wanted more than anything for you to come alongside of me and tell me I was doing it right.  Even if you had told me I was doing it wrong that would have been better than the silence with which you punished me. 

Then she came along.  I am sure she was quite nice, but I could never overcome my jealousy and befriend her.  She was needy and you looked after her.  She liked Boston Cream doughnuts so you always brought them for her.  She didn’t know much about the transit system, so you bought her a bus pass and showed her around.  You invited her over for supper.  You joked with her and took care of her.  You watched over her every need.  I know I’m fully independent.  I know how to buy my own bus pass, and yet how I longed for you to buy one for me.  How I wished that you would take the time to bring me my favourite food.  I wanted to be thought about.  I longed to be cared for, but I felt neglected, just as neglected as I had before, but now I saw you pouring your energy into her.

Even after she left I was too badly hurt to say anything.  I knew largely that I had been in the wrong and so I couldn’t accuse others.  My jealousy was venom that ate at my soul, not something I was proud of.  It was over a year after she left that I had the guts to mention to you that I felt abandoned.   You never knew where I was, and as far as I could tell, you never cared.  My heart slipped further and further from you.  Occasionally you did things to get my hopes up.  You’d take me on trips, take me out for supper or hand me cash.  At times I’ve felt like I am using you.  You don’t ask me for much, but you give.  Sometimes I wish I had more to give you, or rather, I wish you wanted me more.  I wish you valued me, or even needed me, but you don’t seem to care if I come or go.  I’m not a better person because of our relationship, and I don’t think it will affect you if I leave. 

I keep looking at the door.  I imagine getting off my chair and walking out.  What would it look like if our relationship ended?  How will it change the way people look at me?  Most people, except those who know me well, think our relationship is healthy.  They think I’ve made a godly choice in choosing you.  The people who know me tell me to get out of the relationship.  They see it sucking away my life.  They think I can do better.  The reasons I have to stay are increasingly poor reasons.  I’d have to pay for my own phone bill.  No more free trips.  In the fall, my laptop died.  You gave me a new one.  Would you want it back?  Laptops, a phone, trips; those are no reason to stay in a relationship, but I am not sure I can be independent.

I keep hoping our relationship will mend itself, but I haven’t done much to aide in its healing.  Your apathy towards me causes me to cease caring.  I want out of this relationship.  I am not sure when to leave.  Neither am I sure how to leave.  I don’t want to cut ties completely.  Slowly I’ve distanced myself from you more and more.  I think I’m ready to say goodbye, but something keep holding me here.

Married Life- An Allegory

For twelve years I’ve been married, half my life.  I couldn’t have known what I was doing when I first agreed to the idea.  I thought he was my only chance.  It hadn’t occurred to me at the time that other men might come along and sweep me off my feet.  They haven’t.  I’ve been true to my husband through the worst of it all.

The first few years I was his willing slave.  Like a young child willing to do the most ridiculous tasks to please her heartless older siblings.  My husband said jump, and so I’d jump and high as I could, over and over again.  I became so tired, so lonely.   

I was a marvellous wife, doing my best at everything.  I served him well but I wasn’t sure that I was loved.  I let painful thoughts enter my mind.  If I died would anybody care?  Was I valuable at all?  I was told I must trust my husband.  After all, he loved me.  It was his job.  So, I told myself that, and when I was feeling alone, I would talk to him, though I was never sure he was listening.  I knew he must be, but his body language never communicated that.  When he didn’t reply to me I’d read something that he had written to me long ago.  I started writing notes to my husband.  In them I’d let him know how I was feeling.  I’d talk about my friendships and ask for advice.  Maybe he thought I’d learn better if he didn’t tell me what to do.  He let me discover things that he already knew. 

                For the first six years of our marriage I spent time with him every day.  I convinced myself that he was interested in what I was saying to him and even more committed to me than I was to him.  I wasn’t sure how that was possible because I vowed, in my young age to never leave him.  No matter what.  So committed was I that I dedicated the whole of our seventh year of marriage to getting to know him better.  I wanted to know the things that made him happy.  I wanted to know how I could serve him.  I wanted to know the things he liked, but ultimately I didn’t want to just know information about him, I wanted to know him personally.

                I cannot lie.  That year was filled with many things.  I spent much effort trying to please him, but also trying to please a friend of mine.  Though it was a friendship with a boy, I don’t believe it hindered my relationship with my husband.  He was well aware of the friendship, and often invited hang out with us.  Ultimately the friendship wasn’t healthy.  I wanted the boy to be more like who I thought my husband was.  I had ideals and he did not live up.  Eventually I asked the boy to leave my life.  I didn’t need that friendship, I reckoned, because I had my husband as a friend.  I clung to my relationship with my husband, hoping that it would fulfill me, but it didn’t.  I pursued him.  I wanted to get to know him better, but I got only more knowledge and nothing intimate.  I thought he was supposed to be pursuing me.

                I moved to a new city with the hope that there I’d be able to serve him better.  I had hoped that there I might be able to spend more time with him.  I was willing to move where ever he wanted.  Nothing changed.  My husband had told me to jump, and so I spent day after day jumping, but eventually I got tired.

                When a man is never around it is easy for a woman to start wondering if he really loves her.  I remember one special moment we spent together in the past few years, but there should have been many more.  Or am I too demanding?

Sometimes people talk about my husband.  They’ll mention a nice thing he’s done for them.  It makes me angry.  Don’t get me wrong, I am glad he is doing things for other people.  I once thought that was all that mattered.  I didn’t care if he spent time with me if he was helping out others.  But I want him.  I want him to do something for me, just once.  I want him to take the time to be intimate with me, even if it is only for a few minutes.  I want him.      

As his wife I feel expected to tell stories about him that make him look good.  But I either have to make them up, or rely on stories that others have told me.  Sometimes I don’t even believe their stories myself.

One thing I must mention.  In the past 12 years I have never gone hungry.  There has always been money in the bank and food on my table.  When I thought my husband was hinting that I should get a job, I did and I hate it, but I know I have more money than I have earned.  It is possible that my husband likes to do things for me without me knowing and so all these years I have credited him for the food in my belly.  But now, I am just not sure that it was him.  I know many kind and generous people who continue to care for me, and it easily could have been any of them. 

                I’m still lonely.  I thought I’d never be lonely if I married.  I thought my husband would be around all the time, making sure I was okay.  I was counting on him.  I thought it would be wrong to rely on anybody else.  Now I am not sure that I ever should have relied on him.  I’m trying to make some new friends.  Not just people I think he’d want me to be friends with, but people I want to be friends with.  Not just people whom I can serve, but people who might serve me.  Maybe it's selfish, but I don’t want to be lonely anymore. 

                I thought once I was married that I would be able to curl up in my husband’s arms and rest, but my to do list keeps growing.  Whenever I have a moment to breathe, he is never around.  I try to enjoy the time by myself, after all, I am an introvert, but I keep looking to be fulfilled.  Maybe it was foolish to trust that he would satisfy me, but he promised me an abundant life together, joy and peace.

                I’m miserable.  It’s not my fault.  I keep trying, and I keep waiting, hoping that today will be the day he shows up and does his part.  I fall asleep alone.

                This year my dad died.  I begged my husband to show up and comfort me, but mourned his death alone.  I hardly mourned it.  Within a week of his death I was back to work, trying to serve my husband. 

                I know I shouldn’t blame my husband for my dad’s cancer.  It wasn’t his fault, it is not like he caused it or anything, yet a lot of my anger is directed towards him.  I hoped that he would have done something, anything.  He never showed up.  I can understand if he is busy with work or something, but I’m his wife!  Isn’t that a reason for him to come by and hold me? 

                I’ve been wondering if I’ve been lied to.  Maybe he isn’t the kind of guy he claims to be.  I don’t know why I’ve been fooled for so long.  I should have figured it out long ago.  I keep giving him the benefit of the doubt.  I keep hoping that he will come by.  I keep wishing that this year will be different, better.  Our relationship stays the same.  I’m not even sure it can be called a relationship, but a relationship with him is all I’ve ever hoped for.

                I promised myself to him.  I’d feel bad giving up now.  He might have good reason to be so distant, or maybe he is not as distant as I make him out to be.  I always try to justify his actions to myself and to others.  When he doesn’t come to an event with me, I tell others that he must have known it was for the better.  I’m tired of making up excuses for him.  I’m tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt.

                I’m still young.  I don’t think I can remain in this marriage for the rest of my life.  Would I be wrong to call it unfair, or even abusive?  I’ve trusted in his love, but I’ve never seen it.  I suppose there were a few times, but 4 times in 12 years is not enough and now even those times seem blurry.  Maybe I just gave him the benefit of the doubt before because I wanted to believe.  I wanted to believe that he planted the flowers for me, but maybe it was just the wind that blew the seeds into my garden.  Wanting to believe isn’t enough for me anymore.

                I wonder what my life would be like if I divorced him.  I know, it is wrong to even entertain such thoughts, but I can’t help but think.  Would I be able to form meaningful relationship after suffering in my marriage for so long?  Would I be able to heal?  Could I ever trust again?  There are some things I’d like to do.  Things I don’t do now because I know he wouldn’t approve.

                I’m tired of playing his game.  I’m tired of living by his rules.  And when I consider that he might be holding my back from real joy, from true love and from lasting peace, I don’t want to believe anything he ever did was good.  If he really is an evil husband, then it would be good, even right, for me to leave him.  I start looking for things to incriminate him, but whenever I find one my mind fights back.  It is as if I’ve spent the last 12 years of my life brainwashing myself to believe I have a lovely husband for it is impossible for me to hold other thoughts in my mind.  I’ve been living by his rules for so long that I need someone to tell me what to do.  I want someone to tell me to leave him.

                But I won’t.  I won’t leave him.  I am trapped.  I am his.  It is all I have known.  I cannot imagine my life without him.  Even though he has so infrequently been present, everything I do is for him.  I base my life on who he is.  I am his slave forever.  Somebody, please, come save me.