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.

love is like an old t shirt

So my husband said to me yesterday that he has been taking me for granted. Because I run the household, the children, and basically everything else in his life, he has been free to concentrate on his career and whatever else his work holds for him. And because he has let me go on autopilot, he has not checked with me how I'm feeling, or what my needs were. So basically that freed up his time and energy to spend with colleagues and work.

Some old magazine article I read before said that a familiar love is like an old t shirt -- it's ratty but you feel absolutely at home in it. Perhaps I'm a bit like that. The analogy is meant to imply that love should be comforting and you shouldn't have to itch and pull, but strangely I feel like the t shirt that you don't even notice.

minds of men and women

I wish I could say that I've put the whole suspicion about my husband's work spouse behind me. After all, I do believe that he is an honourable man. I believe that he will not indulge in any infidelity that would destroy our marriage and wreck his career.

That said, what worried me no end, was that he did not believe that there was such a thing as emotional infidelity. I tried to introduce him to the concept that inappropriate emotional closeness was a risk factor for emotional infidelity, which in turn led to the slippery slope towards physical, full-blown infidelity. Nope, he said, then how could men and women ever be friends? Well, I said, do you remember that that was exactly how WE started, by being good friends? I think his insistence that his friendship with her remain was one of the key factors which made me so upset -- because it indicated that his friendship with this woman was important enough to keep, despite knowing his wife's discomfort. He says that I have no right to control who his friends are; while I insist that surely my feelings are more important than an ordinary friendship, unless......? We are at an impasse here.

The second thing which aroused even greater suspicion was the lack of transparency. He actually thought that by keeping the phone on silent mode, and answering messages while I happened to be out of the room, was a good idea. And he would omit details of what they did (eg., breakfast, lunches out etc) or leave out her name when telling me about the people he went out with. To him, I would only get upset whenever he mentioned her or when I knew that she called again, so it was best to keep me in the dark. All I had to do was to trust that he wouldn't ever do anything wrong. To this, I could only say, huh?! I think that "don't ask, don't tell" is a potent breeding ground for suspicion. And to think that this man has even more postgraduate degrees than I.

For a while we have become mired in a circle of defensive accusations -- "you're so suspicious, it would be worse if you knew", "if you were just friends you wouldn't feel a need to hide it from me". And both of us feel equally wronged by the other. Do men and women really think so differently that we fail to find common ground on this issue?

PS: Thank you, f8hasit, for becoming my very first follower. I think one of the reasons why I started writing this blog was to find out what other people thought about this whole thing -- whether I was really a nutcase for believing something was wrong.

taking things into my own hands

Hello, you remember the work spouse who wouldn't stay at work? Well, even after my husband gently hinted that he was busy at home and on weekends, with the kids (and a wife who wouldn't let him off the hook when it came to housework), sometimes I felt that she was not open to receiving hints. Strange how someone could text something like "Sorry, can you talk?" at night even after having been told the above -- unless it was some sort of crisis. And for that, I told my husband, surely she had her own support group of equally single and entanglement-free friends.

And she seemed to have some sort of emotional crisis every other week -- family, work, friends..... I think it was at this point that my patience ran out. I take pride in not being a particularly needy person, and am not the sort of wife who calls her husband up a few times at work each day. So it felt rather unfair that while I resisted calling him up just to chat, and tried to resolve problems on my own at home, this girl seemed to have no compunction about unloading her problems onto my husband -- at work and afterwards.

It came to a point where I would jump every time the phone beeped (incoming text message), thinking it would be her. One day, after messaging that my husband was "so sweet" (not to her - it was for something generous he did at work) and should have called her when he went in to work that weekend (since she was there too), I replied that " Yes, I know I married a good man."

You would think that there would have been a shocked silence after that. For me, it was a giddy mixture of defiant elation (at having declared my presence) and trepidation (what if my husband got angry that I was being so obviously curt?) the moment I hit the "send" button. Instead after a few seconds, there was a confused and giggly reply that my husband needed more sleep since he was sending gibberish. Good grief! I wondered when and if the truth would finally dawn on her!

I think revelation must have finally come sometime that weekend, because there were no more messages for the next two days. She did ask my husband the next Monday, if things were alright at home. Being Asian, of course he replied that things were ok but just a bit busy at home so kids and wife would really like his attention so....... She said she found me really scary and wouldn't call him at home UNLESS necessary. (insert a sceptical Hmmmmm) She probably thinks my poor husband married a really bitchy woman.

My husband had asked me before, if he could invite her over to our church group meeting (we meet regularly every week), seeing that she feels there is no meaning in life, save for work (a common enough sentiment in modern Singapore). At this time, I really don't have an answer. I would like to be unselfish and say yes, but at the same time I feel outraged over the anxiety and hurt that she has caused me this past five months (although she was oblivious to it). They're still the best of buddies at work -- I have no doubt, and I still have the weekly emotional meltdown over her.

But -- and it almost shames me to admit this -- striking that one blow to assert my presence and annoyance brought me some measure of resolution, and a somewhat savage satisfaction.

the work spouse who refuses to stay at work

My husband is a wonderful man and we've had 12 really good years together (and counting!). But in the last five months or so, I came to realize that he had acquired, of all things, a work spouse. Now, mind you, having a work spouse nowadays is nothing uncommon; in fact surveys have uncovered that up to a quarter of people at work have admitted to having a work spouse -- someone they are close to at work, someone they can share their frustrations and joys with, and have lunch and tea breaks with.

Come to think of it, I had work spouses when I was at work too. It made work less onerous, made lunchtime and breaks something to look forward to, and I knew I had someone to call in favours to, if needed.

So, what's the big deal with my husband having one now, you might ask?

Well, first of all, his work spouse plain refused to stay at work. I am probably being more socially conservative but I truly believe that most people have a life after work, which does NOT include people FROM work. I would really try never to call or text my work spouse after work, unless there was some dire emergency (like the time there was a horrible lab accident in the night and I was the only one there.) And especially since some days he turned up at work with hickeys all over his neck ( he lived with his girlfriend.)

So I was especially discomfited with this girl (she is several years my husband's junior) started texting him every day after work -- few times right after coming home, in the night, and also on weekends. To be fair, my husband did show me the messages .Some of it was work-related, but some were about what she was doing, what she had just done -- it felt like a Twitter feed, only directed at him. I really wondered if she felt that there should be some work-home boundaries (or even junior staff - boss boundaries). Surely she realized that this was a married man with two kids and a wife -- and if they would see each other at work (breakfast, lunch and/or tea as well), why on earth couldn't it wait?

Unfortunately my dear husband felt it was just a case of being friendly and that the new generation of 20-somethings communicated with each other 24/7 through electronic media, at work or not. And since he was her buddy/agony aunt/ mentor at work, he felt bad brushing her off at home.

I think this was the point at which alarm bells went off in my head, and I felt emotionally blind-sided. I thought I had made a logical, reasonable argument for maintaining work-home/ mentor-supervisee boundaries, and instead felt I was laughed at for being insecure and oversensitive. It was strange, feeling somewhat betrayed for the first time by a man who I had known for more than half my life, because he did not take my side on something which I clearly felt very strongly about, and felt had reasonable objection to. I have always prided myself in not (or trying not to) indulge in hysterics, and so, for him to remain unmoved and unconvinced that there was a real problem here, dealt a real blow to a) my presentation skills, and b) my emotional core.

I have mentioned that this blog can only be maintained in the little pockets of free time I have while minding everybody's schedule -- well, my eight-year old's about to wake up now. Time to get things started -- homework, hanging up laundry (should be done by now) and making breakfast for him. It's a long story, anyway, I have five months (and counting down to the last three weeks now.... she'll be rotated out) of wildly swinging between "no, I trust him and nothing's happening of course" and "then why is he so protective of her?"

pillar to post, hither and thither, helter skelter -- life as a support staff

I have come to realize -- and hopefully, in due time, will accept -- that my schedule revolves around that of my family. I will be free for lunch if both kids happen to have after-school classes that day; I can make it for a dinner appointment if my husband does not have any work/social engagements AND can make it in time to get my son home from school.....

Once I signed up for a course that took up Wednesday evenings for a whole month. After making sure dinner was already cooked, after reminding everybody to help Daddy clean up, I still faced a barrage of protests by the time next Wednesday came around. Needless to say, I never tried it again, although I probably should -- if anything, it would at least remind them what Mummy does for them everyday!

I anticipated that being a stay-at-home mother would involve supporting everybody's schedule, but some days it seems as if my life is to be lived in the pockets wedged between everybody's timetables. So writing this blog will be an interesting experiment -- who knows, something creative and fruitful could come from these oddly-timed, here-and-there snatches of freedom, much like some plants spring, growing lustily even, from cracks in the pavement.

Photo credit - Alex Brollo