Homes

It's been 14 years since I sold my home in Utah and began a season of home-less-ness.

It was a horribly painful time back then.  H was still in the Navy and his detachments around the world or drill weekends in California gave him opportunity to act out.  I didn't have any proof, but I felt it in my gut and called him on it one day.

He packed his bags and left that day.  For the rest of my life the words of my son will be forever seared into my heart.  "Dad, can I help you carry your bags to the garage?"  He had no idea what he was helping his dad to do.  


H had been gone for three years while I taught school and managed our home without him.  One day a man knocked on the door, he had papers, papers I never ever expected to receive.

Foreclosure.

Except by the grace and tender mercies of God, my house sold and closed in 30 days. The foreclosure was avoided.  It was pretty unheard of.  It was painful.  I packed and moved by myself while H was living in a villa in Sicily.

Ten years ago we bought a small townhouse (in a state and city so far from the home I knew and loved).  It was the third townhouse we'd lived in since I about lost my home.  But at least we owned this one.  It was too small for a family, but H was adamant that we buy something and he was afraid to mortgage too much money.  For almost ten years we crammed 4 and then 5 people in this little space.  We used the garage as a storage unit and never parked a car in there once.  The basement was almost as bad.

Finally, at the end of 2013, almost 14 years from the day those foreclosure papers were served, we finally bought a home. A beautiful, roomy, lovely, new home.

And then we separated.

I didn't plan for a separation to happen.  H and I were so excited to be able to finally be in a real home.  A home with room where we weren't all on top of each other.  But one night, H and I were out running errands.  We'd dropped D off at church for her young women activities.  Something wasn't right with H.  I could feel it.  Worse, I could hear it in the way he talked to me.  On the way to the townhouse with a few groceries, it hit me.  'You can manage these two homes alone.  He doesn't have to move with you."

I hurried in the door, put away the perishables and quickly factored out some numbers while H was upstairs.  When he came down I had my plan in place and presented it to him.  I couldn't believe I was saying what I was saying to him.  I felt relief, like I had never felt it before.  I was scared, but not afraid.  I knew it would be difficult -- a difficult that would be easier to handle that all the difficult I had been dealing with these past 24 years.

Amazingly, the move went well.  H stayed a couple nights at the new house to help assemble a few pieces of furniture for D.  I had to reminded him of the plan, 'you aren't going to live here for now, H.'

I managed it alone most of November and December.  It was difficult -- but in a different way.

Most of January, February and now March,  have been a battle with H coming home and then leaving again.

He's been gone a week now.

It helps having two homes.
It hurts having two homes.

Its an easy escape.  You don't have to think too hard about leaving when you can just go back to your old home.  You don't have to work through the cost factor, or make arrangements to separate towels or kitchen supplies -- that stuff is already there.  You just pack your clothes and leave.

I've been thinking a lot the past few days while I have had nothing but my thoughts to keep me company,  that it would be nice to have someone who wanted to work hard at marriage with me.  Marriage takes work.  You don't just go to the office, come home eat, watch TV and call it good till you do it all over again the next day.  Marriage takes interaction, commitment, love (not just saying it -- but living it).


In an Ensign article entitled,  For Better, For Worse, For Always, Brent Scharman said this, "Making a commitment. Each partner must have a strong commitment to the marriage if it is to survive the inevitable hardships brought on by modern-day pressures. Commitment produces a feeling of stability, which assures both individuals that although disagreements may surface, the marriage is their top priority and will be preserved. This allows both to feel safe—without the fear that every problem that arises will lead to greater difficulties."

I'm not saying that I haven't added my share of problems to the marriage in trying to deal with addict behaviors.  But I do believe I have worked to keep the marriage together in spite of some pretty tough conditions.

But now we have an easy out.
Now we have a place to run away when we aren't happy.

Another section of Elder Scharman's article makes this statement:

In the April 1990 general conference address, President Howard W. Hunter described the required level of commitment. He said: “Ultimately, what our Father in Heaven will require of us is … a total commitment, a complete devotion, all that we are and all that we can be.”

I'm thinking about both sides of this issue a lot right now.  Looking back over the past, wondering about the future, and what, if anything, I can do to make it right.  I don't' have any power of influence over H.  To beg him to come back home to work on the marriage would require just that -- begging.  I know more compromise will need to be worked through -- but begging --  I don't think I'm quite there yet.

I know I need to work on myself more.  I know there is a lot about my behavior that is altered and affected because of all the acting out and lies and pain I've lived with.  Still, it isn't just me that needs to change.  It needs to be both of us working on ourselves and the marriage to make it work.

Right now -- escaping to our separate homes -- is just easier for him.