Overcoming Adversity

We've been watching Freedom Writers in my classes this week, with associated Journal Topics such as Tolerance and Respect & Trust. Today's topic was Overcoming Adversity. Quite timely in my life, as well.

According to a recent YouGov survey, NPR reports that 21% of men and 19% of women admit that they have cheated on their partners. Another 7% elected not to answer the question… hmmmmm. Add to that fact that 28% of women say they have thought about cheating, compared to 41% of men.

You can read a lot into these statistics. Cheaters are, by design, liars. So, I imagine that these numbers are much higher. There are 39 million users of Ashley Madison, an online dating service marketed to people who are looking to have extra-marital affairs. The vast majority of users are men with an estimated ratio of 50:1, men to women. Some countries will not allow Ashley Madison to operate in them because “it promotes adultery and disregards family values.” 

I always knew that there were those people out there, people who cheat. What I never understood was that it could happen to me. My initial reaction was to say, “Everything was great!” “How could I not have known?” “What did I do wrong?”

Then, I remembered. The proverbial red flags.

• He never took me to an after-hours work function.
• Every time he blew up, he wanted to break up.
• We went out to dinner twice in two years.
• He didn’t want to tell anyone at work that he was engaged. “It’s none of their business,” he said.
• He had several email accounts.
• There was a text he received from Kandy, whom he said was a stalker, although, he hadn’t told her he was getting married.
• The strawberry jam that was in his fridge one day hadn’t been there a couple of days ago and he didn’t know where it came from.
• There was woman’s shampoo that appeared in the bathroom linen closet.
• He always seemed to be washing his bed sheets every time I came over.

The list goes on… and on. I brushed it all under the rug. When he was good, he was really good, but when he was bad, he was really bad. There were copious amounts of emotional/verbal abuse, an incident of physical abuse that turned into domestic violence charges and a restraining order, more tears shed than I care to remember, and then more promises.

John left me on Valentine's Day.

After spending three hours on the phone with “the other woman” last night, I now know she was in the exact same position with no knowledge of me. The only blessing for her is that she didn’t marry him. Upon comparing notes, we realized that John “ping ponged” us for a solid year, right through our engagement and marriage. She and I walked the same steps. We heard the same words. We rode a merry-go-round, each thinking we were the only one on the ride.

She ignored red flags, too. An earring I inadvertently left behind. John disappearing for a weekend. He convinced her that he should be able to date others while they were a “couple.” He even asked her to cut her hair and grow out the grey, like I'm doing! She endured the same emotional/verbal abuse, heard the same stories, the same excuses, the same intimate exchanges.

John Inglis denies, avoids, and deflects questions about his relationship with Kandy. I wonder if he believes his own lies or if he just that shallow and empty inside. He is not to be reasoned with. He will not admit responsibility or wrong-doing. It’s a mute point. My biggest concern is that he’ll do this to someone else and I can’t stop that or even warn them.

Kandy and I are stronger now. We have eachother. He has no one. Perhaps, we should send him a “Thank you” card.

Sources:

http://www.channelnewsasia.com/news/singapore/mda-will-block-access-to/879898.html?cid=FBSG

http://www.extremetech.com/internet/213019-new-analysis-shows-over-99-percent-of-the-women-on-ashley-madison-were-fake

http://www.npr.org/2015/07/26/426434619/sorting-through-the-numbers-on-infidelity

F-O-C-U-s

Focus. It eludes me. Nothing is the center of my attraction. Nothing keeps my attention. Nothing is in alignment. My life feels tilted off its axis. My mind needs to be recalibrated. My heart is off balance.

“Concentrate!” I tell myself.

Grade those papers. Reserve those plane tickets. Make that Grammar Test. Walk the dog. Sweep the snow off the porch. Write those lesson plans. Sew on the quilt. Make the soup. Knead the bread. Vacuum the floor. Finish the taxes. Order classroom materials for next year.  Grade. Reserve. Make. Walk, Sweep, Write. Sew. Knead. Vacuum. Finish. Order.

It all swirls around me like the wind outside, blowing snow against the window, making it difficult to see outside. It surrounds me, making it difficult to see outside myself.

“Stop!” I yell into the wind.

The word blows back into my face, back into my throat, where it sticks like peanut butter, only it tastes bitter and makes me choke.

I take another sip of coffee.

“It’s too much,” I whisper to my dog.

But, it’s not. I rise to another day. I grade another paper.

The real storm is not outside my window, but inside my soul. Lost. Wandering. Years of death, disappointment, failure, and abuse add up like the snowdrift against the front door. Every time I open the door, it cascades over me. I can barely see the sky when it blows in again. Surely, the storm will pass. Perhaps I need to quit opening the door.

Wind

Unalakleet in the winter

Bering Sea

Rolling over and around the house like the waves on the Bering Sea, it sounds like we'll surely sink. The house shudders with the onslaught of a sudden blast. I curl up tighter and tighter in my blanket on my feather pillow-topped bed, snuggled in my striped flannel sheets, drawing my pillow down with me, listening to my dog breathe heavily on her bed by the door. The wind is a natural sound to her and she is not to be bothered. Somewhere deep in her genetics, it's familiar and comforting.

The whistling. I'm not sure where it comes from, but it's there. An occasional rattle from the window. The sound is louder upstairs in the bedroom than downstairs on the couch, but I like my bed, and the couch gets cold because it sits right under two east-facing windows, which is the direction from which the wind usually comes.

Other than the wind, all is silent. Silence picks up as the sun goes down, which is later and later this time of year. There is no rumble of planes landing or taking off. No one is out on their 4-wheeler or snow machine, not on these 50mph nights.

Bering Sea frozen near the coast

A student told me this week about a couple of men from a neighboring village who went missing on their snow machines last weekend. They were found, lost and out of gas, but they were found. Many are not so lucky.

It sounds more like the ocean beating against the house than anything I've ever experienced. There are no trees to slow it down. It rushes down out of the snowy Kaltag and Whaleback Mountains, sweeps across the tundra, and rolls through our seaside village like a reverse-tsunami heading out to sea.

Unalakleet wind turbines

The truth? I love the wind. It is constant and steady. It can be relied upon. Somehow, it makes me feel safe and protected as it swirls around outside and I curl up with a hot cup of tea inside, wearing my wool socks, softest hoodie, and yoga pants - all shades of grey, much like the colors outside my window.

The wind reminds me of how small I am, while at the same time causing me to bear up against it, resist it, go through it, beat it, survive it. After all, Unalakleet is a Yupik word meaning "place where the east wind blows."

Unalakleet sits between the "Alaska" label and Nome. This is a satellite picture taken during a winter storm.