pride is a bitter pill to swallow

Well, now that I've decided to forgive my husband's work spouse (for being so needy and intrusive) and to believe my husband that there's nothing going on, and to stop looking for evidence that there IS, I have made a surprising discovery -- it actually feels good letting go of the hurt and anger.

Even though I had privately decided upon the above course of action, I had always hesitated telling my husband -- would he take this as an admission of a big mistake of judgement on my part and lord it over me? Would he take it as licence to chat/facebook/text her with impunity? I guess deep down, nobody likes to admit that we have made a mistake in judgement, or overreacted, because we don't want to look stupid, even to those closest to us. Or to lose their respect because of that mistake.

But I also realized that to admit a mistake, one has to admit it to someone, so that we are held accountable. I had to let my husband know that I was sorry for my overreaction, and suspiciousness, and that I intended to set out on a new course. I think that apology, voiced out, would at least allow the past to rest and let us start over again.

So I said I was sorry (with my hands over my eyes because I couldn't stand to look at him). He said there was nothing to be sorry for ( I dunno, was he being bitter or resigned?) I didn't reply, but in my head I was thinking, this thing has nearly destroyed us both.

He's having a dinner party for some of his closest work friends sometime in the next few weeks. Yesterday I suggested he invite her as well. I really don't know if he was surprised; but he seemed hesitant - was I really sure about this? After all, I had in the past said I would never allow her in the house. But he'd think about it.

Apparently not for very long, because a few minutes later he told me he'd invited her and she'd accepted. Oh man, this is what I mean by being held accountable. It's easy to pretend to myself that I've forgiven her and all that, but without telling him and initiating some action towards that end, those would just be empty words.

Pride is the bitterest pill to swallow -- self-justification, after all, helps to protect one's self-esteem. To dismantle that facade that has been building up over months is a crushing blow to the ego, and leaves one feeling so vulnerable. But one can also think of it as a kind of detoxification -- getting rid of the bitterness that would otherwise accumulate, choke up and poison our very selves and our relationships. I know I felt that poison creeping into our relationship -- an insidious suspicion, disbelief and doubt that was the unvoiced answer to every question, the silent comment after every sentence.

"It is better to lose one's pride in front of the one you love, than to lose the one you love because of useless pride." (Source unknown). I'm convinced that this is absolutely true, but at the same time, devilishly difficult to do.

sliding down a spiral

I have been reading a book -- Mistakes were made (but not by me) by Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson. Though both are highly-respected psychologists, the book is written in a delightful, entertaining manner, without sacrificing evidence of academic research.

The book tells why people make mistakes, but refuse to own up to them. Often, it is not that they are outright liars, but that they are self-justifying; i.e., they believe the "reason" that they cook up. Why do people self-justify? Well, the authors propose that when a person takes on a course of action that is controversial (or dissonant) to what they originally believe, it creates a source of tension or anxiety within them. This is called "cognitive dissonance". The only way to damp down the dissonance is to justify the action. So, for example, you smoke, but you know that smoking's bad for your health. So you justify it by saying," well, it's only five sticks a day" or "only when I've had a really bad day".

Come to think of it, this happens to us a lot of times. A husband might give the new girl at the office a lift home every night, and think to himself that it's ok because " it's on the way home for me anyway, it would be selfish to let her wait at the bus stop!" Which, of course, is a perfectly good, understandable reason, cos it shows he is a caring colleague, and makes him feel better about doing it.

The trouble comes when we start to buy into our self-justifications; because we are wired to believe more deeply in things we want to believe -- this the authors call "confirmation bias". So, when we take the next step of self-justification, it often goes further and further along the direction that we set out for ourselves.

The reason why this book resonated with me was that I recognized many of the self-justifications that my husband put up in our quarrelling over his work spouse, and also, quite shamefully, I admit, I found many of these in the way I thought and acted over the past six months. Believing that she must have a crush on him, or vice versa, I discounted evidence to the contrary (eg., he would take time to go swimming with the kids and I, tell me about his day -- with her included), and started looking for clues to bolster my belief (e.g., he's only having lunch with me cos she's not free today, he would only tell me an edited version of what he did that day). Soon I found myself falling down a spiral of suspicion -- and became increasingly disbelieving of everything he said or did.

It's not easy to climb out of the spiral. I think identifying that I was falling down a spiral was one step -- but getting out of it is quite another. I try and tell myself to have a balanced view -- but I can feel myself sliding down the darn spiral again as soon as some dissonant information comes to light -- like, why does she keep texting him after work, even though she's rotated out of their office? (Official reason -- she's having a bad time adjusting and her parent was ill at the same time. Voice of the devil on my shoulder -- cos she can't let go and he's feeding her dependency by returning her messages!)


I wonder if anyone out there has identified going through this in their lives?

Carefree Timelessness

Monday was my birthday. Last year, I had asked for an art deco filigree ring, but this year was a year I'd much rather forget. Well, not really the whole year, just half a year when my husband's work spouse made such an impact on our lives. So I didn't ask for anything -- even though there's always something on my wish list - a Czech vintage necklace, an Art Deco bracelet, gemstone earrings from etsy....

What surprised me was that my husband had decided to take a day off on my birthday; he'd never done that before. We didn't have any romantic day out planned; after all, it was a school day, so with the kids coming and going, and piano lessons, it would have to be pretty much business as usual -- at least for me.

In the afternoon, we left my daughter at home, waiting for her piano teacher, while we went out shopping, or rather wandering around town, and had a coffee. It was a totally aimless day, but I felt it was time well spent -- it reminded me of the time when we were teenagers, when we would spend any opportunity just being together, without any special agenda. I think that, through the years, this sense of simply being together has diminished, what with work, kids, errands...

Matthew Kelly (I think that's his name) wrote a book called the 7 levels of intimacy, which I read halfway before returning it to the library. Although I felt the book was full of cliches, there were some (not very original) ideas for gaining greater closeness to your significant other. One he called "carefree timelessness" -- or just spending time together without a particular purpose in mind. I suppose that's what we did that day.

My husband likes to think that he got off scot-free this year -- after all, he did offer watches, shoes, jewellery, all of which I turned down. Some people, I guess, would think I should have bought something really big for myself this year -- after all, look at what you put me through! But the sacrifice of one day of his life, just to be with me, was a thoughtful present in itself. And he did turn the phone to silent mode, and checked his Facebook page only once, when we were out!

JM Barrie, who wrote Peter Pan, once said:" You may have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by; yes, but some of them are golden only because we let them slip."

yearning for times past

My favourite pastime revolves around learning about and collecting vintage and antique things -- porcelain, linens, jewellery and more recently, clothes. It has proved to be a source of bewilderment among my friends and family, because in an Asian culture, something new is always seen as something better, and in a modern, status-conscious society like Singapore, the latest It Bag, newest car, etc, announces that you are not only In the Know, but at the cutting edge of social consciousness as far as trends go . All of which I think, is akin to chasing after the wind. After all, next season, everybody knows, your It Bag could become the Too Common Bag (and hence lose its desirability).

My first vintage purchase was a set of 12 Copeland Spode teacups. This was rapidly followed by numerous Limoges tea plates, dinner plates, soup plates and cake plates. After this came a season of acquiring vintage linens -- antique tea cloths, Italian placemats, painstakingly stitched and embroidered by patient hands that move no more. Art deco jewellery came next, with its sharp geometric lines and memories of liberated flapper girls.

In an age where everything is made in China, produced en masse, and invariably stuck together with glue, it has amazed me how well these old pieces have held up. Linens were thicker, hand-stitching was stronger compared to machine stitches, and rhinestones were set with the same precision and care that nowadays nobody would give to costume jewellery.

But perhaps it is more than wanting to own something that was made in a more durable fashion, or something that is not seen in any other high street, Topshop or Mango store. Mealtimes were sacred, tables were set, and nobody surely would have been texting, Blackberrying or Facebooking while having dinner. A marriage, no matter how difficult, was forever. Work ended at five pm, and conversation was an art, not a series of annotated phrases on Facebook.

Sometimes, it seems, that along with disposable fashion, our connections with each other have also become more ephemeral -- useful for instant gratification, and to be upgraded or changed when the next new model rolls in.

Photo from www.chintzchina.com/photo.htm

changing the sun

Funny how moments of revelation can light upon you in the strangest places. So there I was, early on Saturday morning, after the husband stormed out of the house (not forever, just to go for a run, but stormed out nonetheless), feeling like I couldn't stand the oppressiveness in the house anymore.

I hated the thought of getting on with the day -- making Saturday morning breakfast for the kids, checking their homework later in the day, reassuring them with a smile when they whispered, "is daddy still angry with you?". The daily routine seemed empty and meaningless after he had angrily pronounced that he had enough of all this, and I didn't ask what he meant by "all this" for fear of hearing the answer.

I know some of my aunts, and friends too, who have shouldered their way through empty marriages for years. I know they felt that preservation of a family unit (or at least the facade) was important for the kids in their growing years. Me, I can't imagine the effort it would take, to pretend to carry out family obligations (visits to -in-laws, family holidays, visiting friends and relatives during Chinese New Year, hosting Christmas parties) as a family unit.

I left the kids still asleep in their beds (my mom was at home) and, feeling rather dazed, walked aimlessly out of the house, to our little town centre.... and ultimately, in search of a little solitude, found myself on a bridge over a busy arterial road, weeping over the bougainvilleas that were planted all along its sides. (It probably says a lot about an urban Asian society that of all the people who walked past me that morning, nobody stopped to look back at the sight of a grown woman leaning over the railing of a bridge, weeping salty tears onto the cars and buses below. Not that I was contemplating the obvious; oh well, maybe only half-contemplating it.)

I then realized that I have always put my husband at the centre of my life. In a way, I am probably as infatuated with him as I was when I was seventeen, and in the first flush of love. All other aspects of my life orbit around him -- my work, my kids... Maybe that was the reason why I found it easy to give up my career -- ultimately, it would make things easier for him at work. So I worship him, in a way; and the worship of an imperfect being holds a fatal flaw. Everything around collapses when my relationship with him falters. It's akin to the sun burning out in our solar system -- nothing else can be sustained.

I decided then that my universe had to be realigned. No longer to be subject to wobbly human relationships. As a church-going, cell-group- attending Christian, I am ashamed to say that cognitively, I knew that God is supposed to be at the centre of all things, but in my heart, my husband is the sun in my world.

Having decided to realign the universe (at least internally), I returned to my house. After all, the kids would be waking soon, breakfasts had to be made, and laundry had to be hung out. Even if I was doomed to an empty, indifferent marriage, there was meaning and happiness to be found in other aspects of my world. And come what may, putting an immoveable, constant God in the centre meant I could count on my universe not to collapse around me.

At home, a surprise awaited me -- the washing machine was empty, the laundry already hung flapping in the wind. Maybe this was a secret sign that changing my sun was a good idea -- who else but God could make an angry husband do the laundry?

Time to let go

I just wasted a weekend. A weekend that I was looking forward to -- because weekends are when my husband is usually all (or mostly) mine -- after his work,housework, kids and family obligations are taken care of. (OK, doesn't sound like much, but it's a lot more than weekdays when he sometimes puts in 12-hour days).

I spoilt it all by asking my husband out to lunch on Friday. He hummed and hawed, saying he might be busy. OK, I said, a compromise --I'll pick you up and we can eat somewhere nearby --it won't take up more time than a normal lunch with your colleagues. Hmmmm, let me see, he said.

At lunchtime he called up and told me one of his usual lunch buddies asked him out for lunch. Don't you have lunch with these people every day anyway? And I thought I had first dibs by asking first thing in the morning? To me, it signalled that he'd rather be with them (whom he saw morning, noon and evenings everyday) than with me. (OK, the thought that the work spouse would be there too was lurking in my mind.)

To him, of course, it indicated that I wanted to control everything he did -- even down to his choice of lunch buddies. And seeing how men usually react to being controlled (i.e., badly) he blew his top. I thought it was pretty unfair because all I thought I was doing was expressing disappointment at his decision. (And surely I could not be blamed for feeling let down?)

Of course the whole weekend was spent cold shouldering each other. Almost every move now is seen through the lens of the "work spouse affair" -- for him : does she want to exert control because she thinks I'd rather be with my work spouse? and for me: does he actually want to be with her?

After nearly half a year of second-guessing motives, ascribing agendas, we're both worn out. Deep down, I know he is trustworthy; I just can't stand (or understand ) him having a close, young female friend. Half a lifetime's worth of shared experiences is too precious to throw away for unsubstantiated suspicions, no matter how much hurt and anger they have engendered. And a promise made in the sight of God cannot be taken lightly.

In the sleepy half-light of this morning's dawn, I woke, tired and regretful for a lost weekend. I felt him remove the pillow that had been our "boundary marker" in bed this whole weekend, and his legs and arms folded over me. I think it's time to let this whole thing go. Time to let go of my hurt and anger, instead of trying to extract my pound of flesh. Yes, I don't understand why he still wants to be friends with her, why he thinks it's perfectly harmless. But I want to trust him and pray that he will retain his moral grounding, instead of waiting for him to fall, just to say "I told you so". And I want to believe him when he says we belong primarily to God and each other, and no one else in between.

1 Peter 4 says that "love covers a multitude of sins". Time to bury this one and move on.

how can your own kids be a waste of your time?

I remember a few years ago, when my elder daughter was starting school, I met with one of her teachers. She had found out that I had a PhD, and asked, as an ice-breaker of sorts, what I did. When I replied that I stayed at home to look after my kids, she was literally taken aback, and said," my dear girl, you are wasting your talent!"

Now it was my turn to be taken aback. Why were my kids considered less worthy of my time and attention than, say, decoding a gene or studying its expression? I had always thought that, if anything, my decision to stay home for my kids signalled how important I thought they were.

In a society like ours, where one's value is judged by how much money you make, what job you hold, which district you live in, what kind of car you drive, or even what kind of bag you carry, my husband and I wanted to bring up our children differently -- we wanted our kids to be educated deliberately, to be able to appreciate culture and history, to understand the workings of the natural world with a sense of wonderment, and to become persons of integrity and nobility. And unfortunately we can't rely on holiday camps or enrichment classes, however expensive they may be, to imbue children with all that.

My kids may not be the smartest in their school or class -- I have, unfortunately, yet to be given the privilege of being invited to the year-end prize-giving ceremony. Some people may take that as an indictment of my performance. (I suppose it is a fair key performance indicator.) But I am proud of the consideration they show to their classmates, the way they try to reason with instead of reacting to classmates' taunts and other childish forms of bullying, and their enthusiasm for learning about the world around them.

One of my proudest moments as a parent was when we visited the site of ancient Olympia, in Greece. The guide stopped at a painting of the statue of Olympian Zeus, and explained that even though it was long gone, the concept of Zeus seated on his throne, being represented as a regal being, was the inspiration for many Renaissance artists in their representation of God and Jesus, more than a thousand years later. When she asked if anyone could see the parallels, my nine-year-old whispered to me, "Jesus in Michelangelo's Last Judgment !" It was as if there was a spark of adult understanding and revelation in her eyes, mixed with childish glee at being able to provide an answer. these are the moments I shall think back upon, the next time somebody says I'm wasting my time at

home with my kids.