World In Motion

One of life's greatest injustices is that the world doesn't stop when you've been dealt a life altering blow. When I was 19, my dad almost died in a horse riding accident. What began as an inconvenient evening in the Lethbridge hospital quickly went downhill into a race to save his life. He was airlifted to the Foothills Hospital in Calgary where he underwent his second surgery of the night. We were told on more than one occasion to say our goodbyes to him. Under a moonlit sky and dim, fluorescent hallways, it felt like time had stopped. But then the sun rose in the morning to another beautiful summer day, and I remember feeling angry with the world as I looked out a window and heard someone laughing. Didn't they realize my life was on hold, that my family was collectively holding our breath until we knew my Dad would be okay? How could life possibly go on?

And so it was for me the next day. The morning after. Jon had school and left early that morning, but our kids had the day off. I could hear them having a happy morning as I laid in bed, incapacitated from the fall out of last night. Was it real? Had my husband really refused to tell me he loved me? I'm sure I probably laid there crying until the injustice of a world still in motion forced me to get up. Kids needed to be fed, dressed; I had plans to help my mom with something that day and she had agreed to babysit. My pain must have been painted across my face, because the first thing my mom said when she saw me was, "What's wrong?" And so I broke down all over again.

I was whisked into my parent's bedroom where I shared with them what happened the night before. At this point my tears were no longer about how hurt my feelings were. As a mother, your subconscious reflexively goes to your children, whether you want it to or not. And as an adult, your experiences in life forecast the future in if/then statements. The tears today were new, they were different. They were the result of this line of thinking:

IF your husband doesn't love you, THEN you are headed towards divorce. Divorce will hurt your children more than anything they have ever experienced yet in their precious little lives.

And I wept. I would do anything to protect my children from the kind of pain a divorce would cause them. I would relive the horror of the night before everyday for the rest of my life if it meant I could protect my kids from a broken home. I shared this with my parents through my tears. They hugged me, they consoled me; my dad gave me a blessing. They encouraged me to talk to Jon, to look into marriage counselling. This wasn't the end, this was the beginning of digging my heels in and fighting for my marriage. I could do it. And if, heaven forbid, I couldn't fix my marriage, they would be right there to help me.

Somehow I managed to put one foot in front of the other, I walked out of that room and hopped back onto the world in motion. I accomplished all that was required of me for that day. And the day after that. The next day was February 1, 2023. My parents were leaving for Arizona tomorrow for two weeks. That evening we received an email sharing the devastating news that a beloved member of our ward and good family friend had passed away suddenly. 

I hate to admit this, but Bernie Orr's passing proved to be a welcome distraction. It is easier to "mourn with those that mourn" over a tangible, terrible loss, than it is to navigate the abstract complexities of a marriage in crisis. I love Bernie, I consider him a good friend, and as selfish as I may sound admitting his passing helped me, I know he loved me and would have been happy to know that even in death he had helped out a friend. If there was any service I could conjure up for Bernie and his family, I did. I put flowers on his doorstep, a giant heart on his door. I took a dessert and card to his family. Made sure a family member of mine that Bernie adored would be in attendance at his funeral. Attended his funeral. There were concrete actions I could do and see results. But when it came to repairing a marriage, what could be done there? Where did one begin?

I'll Be Happy When...

I'll admit this exercise of reliving the events of one year ago through writing on my blog has been quite cathartic. It's given me a lot of grace for myself; I wish I could go back in time and give 2023 Kristen a great big hug, she was carrying some super heavy stuff and still showing up. With that being said, there are posts that I have known were coming and have been dreading the task of writing. This is one of them.

January 2023 slowly shuffled by, but with one new development: Jon now helped with the laundry. And I felt sheepish about this. As much as I appreciated the help, I knew the assistance was the result of me losing my cool via text when I had "The Great Christmas Present Breakdown" last month. I rarely lost my cool, but when I did it seemed to be in a text message. And the repercussion always seemed to be that I would never be allowed to forget it. Whether it was the infamous screenshot saved for all eternity or the sudden help with the laundry, reaching the end of my rope was immortalized.

But if a basket of folded laundry meant Jon was trying, then there was evidence that I was too. The moment I looked forward to all week that month was Sunday evenings when Jon and I would watch the newest episode of "The Last of Us," the zombie apocalypse show based on a videogame and filmed right here in Alberta. For that one hour a week, my mind was completely focused on identifying where each scene was filmed while my hands would rub Jon's feet until they tired out. Jon had mentioned he wished I touched him more, that I was more affectionate. And a foot rub means you're trying, right?

The last Sunday of January 2023 was when the episode "Long, Long Time" aired. I wish I could link you to a video of it, that you could watch the beautiful love story that plays out over the course of the episode. My words won't do it justice, but it was powerful; two imperfect characters loved each other as perfectly as they could. It reignited in me the strong love I had for Jon, regardless of how hard the past couple months had been. When the credits rolled, I sat on the couch with some rogue tears sliding down my face and decided to do something vulnerable and brave.

"I know you don't really love me right now, but I love you."

I keep wondering why the hell did I phrase it that way? Was I setting myself up for what came next? I couldn't have been, at least not consciously, because what came next fractured my heart. And what was that, what came next?

Nothing.

No corresponding reply of, "I love you too," and, "why would you say I don't love you?!" No awkward attempt of deflection, no, "Thank you," or, "Aww, I really like you." There wasn't even a physical sign of acknowledgement as I sat there making eye contact with him. His jaw was steeled, his eyes were emotionless, and after a few seconds he stood up to leave the room. He would have likely turned on his computer and started playing video games if I hadn't cried out, "You're killing me with what you aren't saying." This fortunately stopped him from actually leaving the room, as he stopped and sat on the floor across from me, but his silence remained.

There is something to be said about having the powerful emotion of love not be returned from the people in your life that you automatically assume would love you most. In all healthy families, you assume that your parents love you without question. You assume your spouse does too. To be intentionally denied their love is devastating. The pain is suffocating. It was clear Jon was making a statement with his silence and I began to ugly cry as I comprehended.

The silent standoff in the living room didn't last long. My weeping filled the air and I soon had to get up in search of tissues to dam the deluge of tears. As I sat on the toilet desperately trying to breathe through my pain, Jon came to sit on the floor in the hallway just outside the bathroom. It was then he finally broke his silence with something along the lines of, "I'm not happy."

Although I was crying, from there I took over the "conversation." I told him how I had been trying, how I'm an optimist, that I don't sit and stew, I work and look for the positive. I told him that he's a pessimist, that he has spent the entirety of our marriage telling himself, "I'll be happy when..."

"I'll be happy when I buy a new computer."

"I'll be happy when I quit my accounting job."

"I'll be happy when I'm a doctor."

I recognized the signs. There was a new thing, a new fixation he would be happy when it was fulfilled. And I was right. I honestly had no idea at this point, but he had started telling himself that he would be happier with someone else. And he was now actively pushing me away so he could be happier.

Out of the Blue

As I've been reflecting on the events of one year ago, I was reminded of three really random conversations that seemed to pop up "out of the blue." Two with Jon. One with my mom.

1. We were in our bedroom, Jon and I. It must have been in the evening. I can't remember if the kids were in bed or why we were in there. Folding laundry? Whatever it was, Jon suddenly launched into how if he ever wants to travel he's going to have to do it by himself. It'll be just him and the kids travelling. I was caught so off guard - what did he mean? Was he planning a trip somewhere? What made him bring this up? No, no trip was being planned. He was just stating what he thought was the truth: Kristen hates travelling, so I'll do it alone. And I was speechless. This was such a complicated and nuanced topic, surely he realized that. (ie. me having a major depressive episode on our 2 month long honeymoon to Ecuador; another depressive episode on a trip to Mexico with his family, which was my first Christmas away from family, and I was pregnant AND the idiot doctor I went to for the pregnancy told me to quit my anti-depressants cold turkey; having almost every thing that could go wrong on a trip, go wrong on our trip to Ecuador with 3 kids and a baby.... just to name a few) I never, ever said I hate travelling and never want to go again (wait, correction - while on that last trip to Ecuador as a coping mechanism I allowed myself to say "I will never come to Ecuador again" in an effort to enjoy that trip more because I was telling myself it would be my last). I've just had some incredibly difficult experiences while travelling. In fact, one year before this moment Jon and I had been planning a trip for our 10 year anniversary. We literally would have gone on a trip together had our van's transmission not needed to be replaced. Our family drove to Tofino the summer before. I even had a trip planned for that spring with the high school band for work. See? Kristen travelled! I could even enjoy it! Was it too much to ask that we did some easy, baby trips before plunging into the hell that is international travel with 4 children to a third world country? I can't remember if I tried to defend myself. I was so exhausted most days that I probably didn't have the energy to set the record straight. Let Jon think what he thinks.

2. Jon was helping me set the table one night at my parents' house. We had an aunt and uncle visiting for dinner. While placing forks and knives beside each plate, Jon said something along the lines of "... but I'm stuck living in Raymond for the rest of my life." Uhh, record scratch, say what now? I almost laughed until I saw he was dead serious. I asked him to come tell me what he meant and we went into the laundry room for some quiet. He meant what he said, he was stuck in Raymond because I would never let us leave. Did I love living in Raymond? Yes. Had I ever said we could never leave? No! Jon had been trying to get into medical school for years, had he been accepted we would have obviously moved. Since moving to Raymond six or so years ago all of Jon's rhetoric had indicated that he really enjoyed it here too. He wanted to live on an acreage, he wanted to buy the land right next to my parents! He wanted to help my Dad with the farm in an effort to curry favor and an inheritance. He wanted my Grandma's house right next to Bridge Fitness in town. All signs pointed to him wanting to settle down here, so I let myself get comfortable. As I calmly tried to ask where this resentment was coming from and where he wanted to live instead, he couldn't really give a specific answer, just that he felt stuck and it was my fault. 

3. While driving to Lethbridge with my mom to get groceries one afternoon, she randomly started a conversation along the lines of, "Your Dad and I can tell your marriage isn't doing well and Jon is changing." Uhh, I guess she was right, but was it that obvious? I was usually so busy I didn't have the time to mentally evaluate things. Yeah, Jon's sulking right now, but I need to feed the kids and hurry us home to get them to bed and make the lunches and get myself to bed so I can get to work at 7am and then clean after work and do the laundry and plan the meals... There wasn't a lot of room on the schedule to evaluate the state of my marriage. Again, I was speechless. Fortunately, this conversation wasn't an attack on me and concluded with: "We support you no matter what."

Birthday Weekend

 

After getting married I learned that some people took their birthdays quite serious and milked as much special treatment out of their day as possible. Hence the term "birthday weekend." This refers to the weekend closest to your birthday that you may choose to schedule more birthday related activities. I rarely, if ever, opted into this. But there I was in January 2023 planning my very own birthday weekend festivities.

If you need a quick recap, I spent the days leading up to my birthday grieving what I thought was the end of the childbearing and baby stage of my life. On my actual birthday (a Wednesday), I went out for dinner with Jon. The day after my birthday (a Thursday), I found out I was pregnant. The day after that (a Friday), Jon and I went out again to eat and then met friends for laser tag. The entire evening leading up to playing laser tag Jon was preoccupied with the "should I, shouldn't I?" game of following through on plans with his nursing school classmates. This guy in my class is in a band playing tonight, I told everyone I'd be there. I let him know I didn't care what he did, while he continued to text whoever it was about whatever he'd do.

Laser tag was fun. We had an awesome turn out. I felt like a cool kid. By the end I was sweaty and ready to go home. Jon was still struggling to decide what he'd do, but eventually settled with coming home as well. He had plans with his classmates the next night (a Saturday), so he would see them then. I was even invited to tag along, they were going to a Drag Burlesque Show! After going out two nights in one week, it was a no brainer to pass. I felt guilty missing bed time and leaving my kids. Jon went and I stayed home.

The next day (a Sunday), there was a gigantic fireside announcing the upcoming Moroni's Quest youth camp planned for that summer. I went and sat by a friend and felt the bittersweet emotion of wishing I could go on this wonderful camp and knowing that I wouldn't because I'd be 7 months pregnant then. At this point in time nobody knew. I hadn't told another soul that I was pregnant. Not even Jon. Remember? He didn't want more kids. He wasn't happy. How the heck was I going to tell him that I got what I wanted and he didn't? While walking to our cars that night, my friend asked in passing if I was still thinking about having another baby. I finally spilled the beans, she was the first soul I told. I'm actually pregnant. I haven't told Jon yet. We're kind of at a low spot in our marriage. Her excitement buoyed me up enough to finally let Jon know that night. 

After getting ready for bed, I put the positive pregnancy test on his nightstand (it had the cover on - I'm not completely disgusting) and tried to fall asleep. I was too excited though. Surely this would be the sort of thing that would bring us back to each other, help us get through the tough spell, get Jon feeling happier again? When he quietly slipped into the room to go to bed I couldn't take it any longer, I think I may have even mentioned there was something on his nightstand he should look at. If I was looking for a certain reaction, what I got definitely wasn't it. 

. . . Man, people hate us. Huh? What he meant was that people must hate us for being able to get pregnant so easily. How long have you known? I told him for a few days, that I just didn't know how to break the news to him. And that was about it. It was obvious he wasn't excited. It would take just over a month for me to understand why. It turns out that the night before (a Saturday), after watching a Drag Burlesque Show, Jon left the venue with a 22 year old classmate and kissed her in the parking lot. And when I would go through his deleted text messages at that time, just over a month later, I would read him telling her that 

Two Pink Lines

The first week of January 2023 possessed the same manic, goal-oriented energy of every other year. Except this year the resolution was to revive my marriage, a truly noble goal when compared to my usual read this and exercise this much. I was flirty and fun. I made an extra effort to not pull my phone out around Jon and the kids. I took the time to check in with Jon, to really know what was happening in his life. He'd tell me about classmate drama and about his new best friends. And I listened fervently to the tales about these people he was enchanted with and saw more than me and the kids. Heck, I could have even drawn out a flow chart explaining the complexities regarding the crazy girl Rachel in his nursing program and all the bridges she had burned and who was still trying to be friends with her. Besides a few intermittent migraines, I was working my tail off and things really did seem to be looking up.

Because the "state of the union" truly did seem to be better, I approached Jon one night like a humble child asking for a treat after eating all their supper: "Do you think things are okay enough that we could have more kids?" Bless my pure and innocent heart. Jon was quick to inform me that NO, things were not better. He was still miserable. He felt like I loved the kids more than him. And so I mourned and grieved the end of a chapter that I was not ready to have close. For more than one night that week I cried as I prayed to my Father in Heaven, begging that I could fix my marriage enough that I could have another baby. I don't think I've ever wanted something as ardently, as selflessly, as I wanted to bear another child. Fortunately, I was always going to bed by myself at this time, so Jon didn't have to endure my prayers whispered through sniffles and the tears that fell from my eyes until sleep dried them up.

On a Wednesday I turned 34. I had been encouraged by a friend to plan a night of laser tag to celebrate my birthday that year, so for fun I committed to the stress of finding people to leave their families on a Friday night to celebrate something I don't even celebrate for myself. Since the festivities were planned for Friday, I wasn't expecting anything on the actual day. But Jon surprised me with a late afternoon text saying my parents would watch the kids and we could go out to eat. An hour or so later, I found myself sitting across from Jon at the Firestone. This meal felt the same as that time back in grade one when I saved up all my reward dollars or whatever to buy the coveted "Lunch with Teacher." I felt proud as punch and was on my best behavior, oozing gratitude and delight, while the teacher across from me grinned and bore the extra effort required from them as they fulfilled an obligation. And why yes, he was on his phone an awful lot that night at the restaurant too, but by now I was used to it. His relationships with his classmates were important and he had told me about the plans they were making for that upcoming weekend. One classmate had a show with his band on Friday and there was a drag Burlesque show to attend on Saturday.

(Ironically, while composing this I had a flashback to a forgotten memory of that night. Foreshadowing? While sitting at that table and passing the time when Jon would check out on his phone, I kept glancing at a table to my right. There sat a girl I recognized from my days in the Young Single Adult scene in Lethbridge, except now she bore the title "Young Single Mother.")

That night again I cried myself to sleep. The next day I awoke to the tell-tale signs of an oncoming migraine. I took some medicine, drank as much water as I could and prayed I could just make it through work. And prayers were answered! But after work I realized something... how many migraines had that been in the past week? One pregnancy test later and my suspicions were confirmed: I was pregnant. I was overjoyed. Prayers really were answered!!!!

But how was I going to tell Jon?

State of the Union

My curiosity regarding Jon's behavior was dulled by the holidays and parenting. We sailed through Christmas and the hazy post-Christmas week where day and time doesn't seem to exist beyond the sun rising and setting. For New Year's Eve we went to a party put on by Jon's sister. I remember expressing to Jon while there that I felt anxious by the crowd and kids and music and noise, but it didn't stop me from dancing and playing with my own children as we inched towards the New Year. New Year's Day was spent in another sober hangover, with the day ending how most of our days did: Jon and I watching something on TV together before he would excuse himself to go play some video games. But with no upcoming events and commitments to distract me, I finally remembered the question that had been plaguing me most of December: what had Jon been typing on his phone? What conversation did he want to have?

Can you please tell me what you've been writing about on your phone? I had given him time and space, even he couldn't deny that I had been patient and deserved to know what was going on. 

The conversation was prefaced much the same as every other time Jon chose to speak: "I'm not a very good communicator." Which is why he had been making notes. Then he began. I'm not happy in our marriage. I don't want to go to church anymore. I feel like we only exist for our kids. I don't want anymore kids. Each point rapidly followed by the next one, hitting me like ocean swells, knocking me back down again before I could catch my breath after the last one. As surprising as each revelation was when shared altogether, I wasn't completely shocked by each individually. 

He wasn't happy in our marriage? Honestly, not that big of a surprise. Since going back to school, Jon had befriended a younger, newly-ish married couple who spoke openly about their relationship. Jon often shared surprisingly intimate details about them and it was becoming clear that he was envious. What man wouldn't be jealous of a new, hot sports car when he's stuck with a frumpy, messy minivan? 

He didn't want to go to church anymore? Well, not exactly a surprise either. Jon had been inactive for years before deciding to come back to the church, which is when I met him. He had spoken openly that he missed drinking a cold rum and coke, and anytime we spoke about principles of the gospel he always seemed to take the side of arguing against the church. The Elder's Quorum President in our ward even asked me once if Jon considered himself active in the church and I was genuinely stumped as how to answer. Yes? He did? But not enough to sacrifice any meaningful time or energy for it? And then there was that time I found an unopened bottle of Captain Morgan in the top of our closet. If I would have asked a Magic 8 Ball if Jon was slowly going inactive again, the answer would have been, "All signs point to yes."

He felt like we only existed for our kids? Ha! Same here! But isn't that what parenthood is, at least if you take rearing your children seriously? You set aside a great deal of your time, energy, money, and more to ensure your children grow into kind, well-adjusted human beings. Sure there are pockets of me-time or us-time here and there, but overall the biggest focus and priority of our lives at this point is the kids. 

He didn't want anymore kids? Okay, I'll admit this one made my blood boil a little bit. Thanks a lot for not saying this BEFORE I got the IUD removed. I wasn't naive or stupid enough to think that now was still a good time to pursue having more children. Obviously the priority of this year needed to be nurturing our relationship. But this one still stung. He knew I desperately wanted more kids. Out of all the things Jon revealed, this one was the kick to the crotch.

It's been exactly one year since this conversation and I can still remember how emotionally charged the room was and yet how empty and gutted I felt. What a way to start a New Year. If I had been searching for a resolution, I suddenly had my answer: In 2023, I will fix my marriage.

That night we slept in different beds. The next day we parented and packed and drove back to Raymond. When we finally had a moment alone while unpacking in our room, my mind was made up. I knew what I needed to do and I was going to give it my all. I turned to Jon and said, "I love you and I love being married to you. Everything is going to be okay."