Awakening
February, 1998
“It’s been a week since we last met. How are you doing?”
“Fine, I guess.”
“Any contact with Leo?”
“I wanted to call him but what would the point of all this be if I did that?”
She ignores my sardonic question and plugs on.
“How has it been with Kurt?”
“Same as usual: work, exercise, dinner, sleep.”
“No talking?”
“About what? Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just frustrated.”
“It’s understandable. Has Kurt noticed a difference in you?”
“Nah, he’s been busy with work, and he left this morning for another backpacking trip.”
I thought she’d want to tackle my bitchy backpacking comment, but for some reason she sticks with the agenda she set last week.
“Chrissy, I’d like to talk a little about your family today. How’s your relationship with your folks?”
I don’t understand the point of this direction and it’s annoying because it’s costing me seventy-five bucks an hour. But she’s the pro. I’ll let her do her thing for a while; maybe I am more f*cked up than I thought.
“I had a normal childhood; the stay-at-home-mom, the hard_working dad, the loving brother. Everyone used to call us the Brady Bunch. I used to think we were even better than that.”
“Used to?”
“I don’t remember a lot about my childhood, but what I do remember was pretty good. You know, the block parties, Halloween parades at school…Christmas pageants. It was all good.”
“Did the fun come to an end?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Did your folks divorce?”
“Oh, God no!”
“Why are you laughing?”
“Oh it’s just funny that I would say that with such intensity.”
“Why?”
“Because looking back, I can’t believe they didn’t get a divorce. My parents went through a pretty rough patch in their marriage, so I guess you could say the whole family went through a rough patch. Anyway, they got through it and since then they’ve been stronger than ever. They’re the poster parents for never giving up, and I guess they’re the main reason why I wanna make things work with Kurt.”
“How old were you when the rough patch hit?”
“Let’s see…thirteen. It was right after we moved back from
Japan.”
“Wow, Japan. That’s very interesting. Tell me more.”
“Not much to tell, really. When I was in the eighth grade my family moved back from a 3 year stint in Asia. My dad’s position in the wonderful world of semi-conductors, whatever the hell those are, made him an ideal candidate to uproot our family from our tranquil little town of Amherst, New Hampshire and relocate us to Tokyo.”
“But what a great opportunity, huh?”
“In some ways, yes. But while I was busy living a completely sheltered life in Japan, most kids my age in the United States were spending their time learning how to dress like Madonna, break dance, smoke pot, and form cliques. I had no clue how to do any of those things, and it was stuff like that that made moving back to the U.S. one of the worst ordeals of my life. And apparently it proved to be just as difficult for my mother.”
“What do you mean?”
“We lived large in Tokyo. Country clubs, maids, drivers to take us wherever we wanted to go. But then we were relocated to California with its ridiculous cost of living and 15% mortgage rates. In order to buy a home that was remotely similar to the ones we had always lived in, my mom had to get a job, her first, and I had to go to public school, my first. Neither one of us were prepared for the transition.”
“What happened?”
“I didn’t have a mom at a time in my life when I needed one the most, that’s what happened. I hated her, she hated my dad, and my brother hid in his room with his Thompson Twins records to avoid all the hate. We went from being the Brady Bunch to The Bundy’s.”
Clearly she’s never watched Married with Children because she didn’t get how funny that was.
“You were thirteen, you say? That must’ve been hard.”
“It was confusing. I don’t feel like my mom tried hard enough to help me adjust to life in the United States. In Japan I was sheltered from normal American kid things and then, WHAMO! On my first day of school here, I was introduced to all of it. I had no ability to relate to those kids- it was total culture shock. For months, I ate lunch by myself in a freezing cold portable classroom. No one talked to me, and I had tears in my eyes every single day when my mom picked me up.”
“What did she say about the tears?”
“She was too preoccupied with her own problems to pay attention to mine. Luckily, I met my friend Courtney and she saved me. Court and her mom took me shopping, drove me to football games, and to cheerleading practice.”
“Well that’s good isn’t it?”
“I guess so, but the more Courtney’s mom did for me, the angrier my mom got, and she took most of that anger out on me.”
“How so?”
“She yelled a lot, hit me…a lot. She was pissed all of the time. Our relationship was pretty tense until I went to college. I’ve tried really hard to leave all that stuff behind but every so often, I’ll think back to those days and it hurts all over again. I’ll never understand why my mom was so damn angry and self-absorbed.”
“Would you say Kurt’s an angry and self-absorbed person?”
Wait, are we shifting the subject?
“He’s not angry, but I’d say he’s self-absorbed. It’s all about what he wants to do all of the time. He rarely asks me for my opinion or advice.”
“Do you have a tense relationship with your mom now?”
I guess we’re not shifting the subject.
“Not really. Look, I don’t want to make my mom out to be some kind of monster. I have to believe she did the best she could.”
“Explain her.”
“Let’s see…she’s a beautiful woman who does everything she can to cover up whatever beauty she possesses, usually by wearing baggy black clothes and dark sunglasses. She was super strict about the way I dressed as a teenager- no black clothes or makeup until I turned sixteen. She said only white trash wore black.” I think back to a time when I saw my mother dressed up and it unveils emotions I’ve tried very hard to bury. I clear my throat and continue. “I thought she was very pretty.
I would’ve liked to tell her but I didn’t.”
“That could have been due to resentment.”
“I guess so.” And then I pick up on something. “It’s funny… Kurt criticizes my clothes a lot like my mom used too.”
“He tells you what to wear?”
“Allllllll the time! I’m either over-dressed or under-dressed with that guy. He’s so critical of whatever I have on or what type of shoes I’m wearing. He’s obsessed with me wearing comfortable shoes! It’s like he thinks he knows what’s best for me or something.”
“Continue describing your mother, Chrissy.”
Son of a bitch.
“How she is now or how she was back then?”
“Whatever comes to your mind.”
“Alright… she had an incredibly dysfunctional childhood that she was always quick to remind me of whenever I got mad at her. She had a psychotic mother; literally, she was locked up in an asylum for a while. Her father was a drunk and wasn’t fit to raise my mom, so she was sent away to live with relatives. When my Grandma got sane, as if that can magically happen, my mom was sent back home. She always talks about how awful it was, which is why I don’t understand why she allowed me to be around my Grandparents so much when I was a kid. I mean, really, how can she complain about being damaged by those people yet allow me to spend the night at their house? It never made sense to me.”
“How did it make you feel?”
“Unprotected, confused, kinda unloved, I guess.”
“Chrissy, how does Kurt make you feel?”
Aha, I finally see where this is going and without hesitation I say, “Unprotected, confused, kinda…unloved. Dr. Maria what’s this all about?”
Taking her glasses off and addressing me like she’s not sure I’m gonna be able to handle what she’s about to say, “Well, certain studies show that our choices of marital partners, the relationships we have with them, are determined by relationships with parents or important persons in one’s childhood. Meaning, marital relationships can be repetitions of relationships with parental patterns from childhood.”
I’m looking at her like, yeah, so?
“And the assumption is that you’d gravitate towards a partner that resembled a parental figure that made you feel loved, protected, say…maybe your father?”
I’m apprehensively nodding my head.
“Okay, and while I’m sure it was always your intention to marry a man just like your father, it seems that in your case, you may have married someone more like your mother.”
“C’mon! Why the hell would I do that? I love my mom, but trust me, one of her is enough. Why would I have chosen a relationship, no wait, a pattern of behavior, that I so badly wanted to be rescued from?”
“That’s just it, Chrissy, I don’t think you wanted to be rescued from it. I think you wanted to fix it.”
A few seconds ago my face screamed indifference. Now my forehead is crunched up tightly and my eyes are darting around the floor in an obvious state of distress. Dr. Maria just insinuated that I’m with Kurt because apparently I wanted to fix some kind of residual pain I had towards my mother through him.
“Do you really think I’m trying to get from him what I always wanted from her?”
“It’s a theory I’d like to delve into more.” No need to delve. I think she nailed it.
“You know…when we first met, everything was fun with Kurt. I felt so protected and loved by him. But when I got older, his, shall we say limitations when it comes to matters of the heart, became obvious. I tried to help him feel emotions that came naturally to me. But, over time, he started to get annoyed with me and I started to get frustrated, and it caused all kinds of trouble between us.”
“You married when you were very young- twenty-five, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, usually it’s not until much later in life that one realizes they can’t possibly change another human being. I’m sure you tried and tried to get what you needed out of Kurt, but eventually you realized it was like shoveling shit against the tide.”
My head is hanging low and unwittingly shaking from side to side.
“But you had invested so much time and hope into the relationship, so you slowly let more of his unsettling behaviors slide by without raising a red flag. His assumption was that things were just fine but you… ”
“Married him and signed on to a lifetime of neediness I had hoped to escape when I met him.”
Did I say that because I want her to think I’m absorbing what she’s saying or because it’s true? Both are shitty suppositions.
“This is so sad.”
“Tell me, what?”
“Everything we’re talking about. All of it makes me feel so pathetic.”
“How so?”
Pausing for a really long time because it hurts so much to say out loud the thoughts that are racing through my mind.
“I used to…I used to beg Kurt to love me like Romeo loved Juliet, just like I wanted to beg my mom to love me like Carol Brady loved her daughters. I never did that, of course, because I was too afraid she’d tell me she couldn’t and, oh my God, that would’ve been the worst. Anyway, when I’d beg Kurt to love me more, he’d scream that he gives me all the love he has.” My head hangs back toward the floor, and my voice is merely a whisper. “I wanted him to tell me stuff like he’d die without me and I’m the most important thing in the world to him, but he just said stuff like that is stupid and excessive.” I clear my throat and look up at her. “This hurts Dr. Maria…a lot.”
“I know, hunny.”
“Do you think I was clinging so tightly to the idea of Kurt that it made it impossible to see he’s incapable of loving me?”
“I’m sure he loves you very much. If we can…”
“If we can what? Make him love me in a way he thinks is stupid and excessive?”
Man, I actually stumped her with that question.
“I’ve been so fortunate to have Courtney, Kelly, and Nicole feed me the maternal love my mother couldn’t. It’s probably the only reason why I can be close to my mom. But my friends can’t possibly fill the emotional void that exists in my marriage. That probably explains the screw up with Leo.”
“Let’s assume it’s the case that you became so emotionally neglected, it caused you to have an indiscretion with another man. Our best shot at preventing that from happening again depends on getting your needs met by your husband.”
She ignores my loud defeated sigh.
“We have to work together with Kurt and hope that he willingly responds to your needs. We’re not going to try to change him, but we’re going to educate him on who you are and what you need to be happy. We want him to be more emotionally available to you, so you feel satisfied within the relationship. Satisfied married folks don’t cheat!”
“You’re saying the only way my marriage stands a chance is if I tell Kurt what I need and he responds with a willingness to make things better?”
“That’s correct.”
“And we can only work if I’m free to be the real me and he validates my feelings?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“It seems so simple, and so impossible, all at the same time.”
“It won’t be simple and it is possible and it will be well worth it if it’s what the both of you want. Chrissy…what is it? What’s wrong?”
“I’m disgusted with myself. It’s been easy to blame Kurt for this whole mess, but it’s really my fault. I started letting him off the hook for stuff right before college. If I hadn’t, we would’ve most likely broken up.”
“Was letting him off the hook a conscious decision?”
“I’d like to think it was unconscious because how pathetic would I be if I fought so hard to be with someone that never made me feel good enough?”
I reach for a couple of tissues, and I think I see Dr. Maria prepare herself.
“Back in high school, every girl I knew would’ve sold their soul to be Kurt’s girlfriend, and I knew once he started college the number of girls throwing themselves at him would multiply. To keep us together, I started acting how he wanted me to act and I stopped pestering him to love me more. I didn’t pitch a fit when he went away to college and I didn’t complain when he asked me not to do the same for myself.”
“He told you not to go to college?”
“He convinced me not to go to the one I wanted to go to. He made me feel like I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
“It didn’t make you feel controlled?”
“Nope, it actually made me feel loved. But it wasn’t long before I became very jealous of his college experiences and we fought constantly. I became suspicious of what he was doing all the time and I freaked out. I mean, I went ape shit crazy. Anyway, mid-way through college he couldn’t handle my “neediness” anymore and broke up with me.”
“Oh boy.”
“Exactly. It was the most horrific heartache I had ever experienced. I honestly didn’t think I could live without him. I begged him to give me another chance, and he did. But from then on, I began to believe I was the one with the problem. I was afraid to make him mad, so I tried to act tough and not as needy. I did whatever it took so that I didn’t have to be alone.”
It’s quiet for a minute and Dr. Maria’s letting me absorb the enormity of how appalling my responsibility is for what’s happened.
“Shortly before we got engaged, Kurt had a big talk with me about how important it was for him to be with someone who liked the same recreational activities as him. It was a warning that I better buck up or we wouldn’t make it. I hated every minute of it, but I did every stupid activity he asked me to do. Like an idiot, I convinced the both of us I was exactly what he wanted so he would marry me, and he did. We had a big, beautiful Barbie dream wedding, and I was the envy of every girl I knew.”
“How long did their envy sustain your happiness?”
“Until our first dance.”
“Wow, that soon huh?”
“I kept waiting for those special words a new husband is supposed to whisper in his new bride’s ear. I kept trying to get him to look deep into my eyes and create some kind of magical unspoken happiness between us. But it just felt like any other dance we had danced in the past. I started crying and the crowd ohhhhh’d and awwww’d at what they thought were tears of joy. It only made me cry more.”
“What was going through your mind?”
“That a handsome husband, a big diamond ring, and a fifty thousand dollar wedding can make you look special, but they can’t make you feel special. The more I swayed from side to side, the more lost I felt, and it’s like I never stopped swaying. I don’t like the woman Kurt fell in love with. She’s not the woman I was meant to be, she’s not the wife I dreamed of being, and she’s certainly not going to be the kind of mother I have to be.”
“Do you still do the kinds of activities Kurt wants you to do?”
“Not really. Last year I decided I had enough and I put my foot down on all the extreme sports he guilted me into doing. I started watching more TV, drinking more wine, eating Lucky Charms for dinner, working longer hours at the office. All of it has made him incredibly angry, and we fight more. But instead of going back to how he wants me to be in order to stop the fighting, I’ve just shut down. Now I think I’m too lost to try and find my way back to who I’m even supposed to be.”
She lets it remain quiet again.
“You know what hurts the most?”
“What, hun?”
“That I have so much love to give to both Kurt and my mom, but I’m cut off from giving it because they’re incapable of receiving it. It’s painful to hug… really hug someone and not feel them reciprocate. It’s painful to say I love you and get a ‘love ya too’ in return. Over time, you just stop giving up those parts of yourself because it’s not appreciated. I pay a heartbreaking price for my mom’s limitations every time I see her, and I’ll continue to do it because she’s my mom. But am I supposed to pay that kind of price in my marriage? Am I supposed to be cut off from giving my husband the kind of affection that comes natural to me?”
“Absolutely not, and my hope is that Kurt learns to be receptive to your offerings, but without having met him, it’s tough for me to know if he’s capable. It’s very important for you to realize that all individuals own the responsibility of whether or not they want to change. Your responsibility is to be honest and consistent in what you need. The rest is up to him. Remember, a person who tries to change another human being is a person fighting a losing battle- a person who’s wasting precious time and energy. And know this too: even if he is receptive to your needs, there are certain behaviors in him that you will just have to accept. Once we know what you have to accept, you can work on being healthy, as opposed to resentful, with your decision to be with him. I’d like to see you alone again next week, but why don’t you talk to Kurt about coming to therapy with you the week after next?”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
Just as I’m getting ready to leave the appointment, I turn back to Dr. Maria who’s primping the pillows for the next nut job.
“Dr. Maria?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I understand when you’re married you’re supposed to forsake all others and I know I broke that vow. But if I understand the meaning behind today’s session, didn’t I break something even bigger years earlier when I decided to forsake myself? Isn’t that what’s gotten me into this mess today?”
“Yes, Chrissy. I believe that to be true.”
After leaving therapy, I sit in my car with the seat reclined and stare at the stars through my sun-roof and think. I’ve been fighting for Kurt to love me a certain way since the day we met and I’m tired now. What remains is a choice. Stay and accept the emotional limits of our relationship or leave in search of some kind of love that may or may not exist. I’m glad he’s on a two-day back-packing trip, because I don’t have the heart to look at him right now. Jesus, he doesn’t even know I’m seeing a therapist. He’s really gonna hate the thought of that. But not as much as he’s gonna hate the suggestion that he see her too. I stop at the Liquor Store to grab a bottle of wine before heading home. I feel like I could drink a couple of bottles, but Kurt doesn’t like it when I drink during the week. He’s concerned it will dehydrate me and cause me to have less energy. It’s just another one of those things I thought was sweet when we first met. Now it annoys the hell out me. As I’m mulling over the Cabernets, I wonder why didn’t I tell my girlfriends about my problems with Kurt? Why the hell is it so important to me that they think I have it all together? Stupid therapy! It’s making me question way more than I ever intended. F*ck it, I grab two bottles of wine and a six pack of beer and head home.
Please let me forget all those sweet smiles
all of the passion all of the heat, the peace, the pain
all those blue skies where your words were my freedom
Please, don’t let me fall in love with you again
(Don’t, Jewel)