Expectation is the Seed of All Disappointment

How 3 Generations Suffered Depression Due to Expectations and Disappointment within a Family

Monday, November 25, 2019 5AM

I just awoke from a very strange dream. In the dream my aunt and uncle invited me to stay with them to finish writing my book. This may not sound very strange to people who don’t know me, but let me explain. I have an uncle, my father’s brother Jonathan Cole, but I have no relationship with him or his family and haven’t for some time now. The choice to cut ties with Uncle Jon was made in anger, but had been coming for a very long time. In the dream the whole family was gathered at the apartment of my Aunt and Uncle (not the actual apartment they live in but some fantastical apartment that doesn’t and couldn’t exist anywhere). It makes sense that I would dream of getting together at Uncle Jon’s this week, fore when I was a kid the whole family gathered at his NYC apartment for Thanksgiving for many years. It also makes sense that I dreamed of him specifically last night because yesterday was the 21st anniversary of when I shot myself… and Uncle Jon (and his family) did not come to visit me in the hospital after I survived the shooting.

One might assume, because of this dream, that I miss my Uncle… and I do, but not the man he became but rather the great man I once thought he was and I know that he could have been. This might sound ridiculous to people who know Jon as many think that he is a great man. He has been married to the same woman for close to 50 years. He has 2 fairly healthy children and 2 grandchildren. He was very successful monetarily… He is part of the 1%. He was successful in his career, being one of the longest serving Provosts of Columbia University. He has published several books and is considered such an expert on higher education that the Chinese Government hired him as a consultant and flew him to China to give advice on building the world’s largest and “best” public research university in the world. These all definitely sound like the trappings of a successful man in our society.

Stephen and Ann Cole with 3 day old Richard D. Cole
My mother and father with me at 3 days old. You can see that my father’s right shoulder is much higher than the left because of his Scoliosis.

I mentioned that I once thought Uncle Jon was a great man… and this was true, when I was a small child before my parents divorce. I thought the world of him but not because of the societal trappings of success that he now has and had started to gather back then. My father, Stephen Cole, was a sick man in many ways. He had a very bad curvature of the spine (Scoliosis) that ultimately caused him to lose almost 70% of his lung capacity. As a child I can remember that one shoulder was always significantly higher than the other. My father made enough money to afford custom made suits in which extra padding was added to the low side shoulder to make him appear “even.” Towards the end of his life there was no hiding the effects of the Scoliosis; he looked like a hunch back. My father also suffered from crippling arthritis at times and chronic migraine syndrome for most of his adult life. Overall, he wasn’t a “well man.” On top of his physical ailments my father was very narcissistic personally and competitive in his work. All of this meant that he never played ball with my brother or me. He didn’t take us to ball games. He didn’t encourage us to pursue things that we were interested in. He encouraged us to pursue the things that he had been good at… getting good grades and making money.

Jonathan R. Cole playing with catch with Richard D. Cole.
My Uncle Jonathan playing catch with me and comforting me when I got hurt. He must have brought the football because I don’t remember ever owning one as a kid.

When my uncle and his family would visit us out on Long Island he would play ball with me outside. I was too young to emotionally understand what I was thinking, but I elevated my Uncle to hero status because he wasn’t “sick” like my father. Uncle Jon doesn’t have scoliosis and stands over six feet tall. He is a handsome man. He was smart and well spoken… and much more soft spoken than my father, who had a tendency to be loud and aggressive in his speech (perhaps to make up for the fact that he was physically weak?). When I was a small child I can remember looking forward to seeing Uncle Jon and looking up to him so much.

When my parents separated and were getting divorced, Uncle Jon told me that if I ever needed someone to talk with or if I wanted to come visit in NYC… all I had to do was call and he gave me his number. But that turned out to be an empty promise. I reacted very negatively to my parents divorce. I was a problem angry kid prior to their divorce and only got worse through their dismantling of our family.

I remember that I tried talking to Jonathan a couple of times. He did not know how to deal with my anger; most people didn’t… and then he was gone. There were no invites to the city. There were no invites to join his family on vacation to the country, the Caribbean or Europe. He has had a house on Martha’s Vineyard for more than 20 years and never once has an invitation been offered even though he specifically said one would be. Invitations from Lena and me to come to our home in Rivertown were turned down. I expected my uncle to be present in my life and I was disappointed.

It wasn’t just me that was let down, Jonathan totally abandoned my brother; in some regards more so than me. My younger brother Walt, lived less than 20 blocks from our aunt and uncle in NYC all through high school and even closer during college… and during all of that time I don’t think Jonathan had Walt over for dinner once, other than the obligatory Thanksgiving get together. Walt went to Columbia University where Jon worked… and not one lunch or breakfast… not one cup of coffee. What kind of man does that? I expected my uncle to be there for Walt and was disappointed when he wasn’t. There’s no excuse, but it was indicative of a larger issue.

Uncle Jon, Nana and my father.

From the mid 1980’s until my father’s death last year there had been an ever deepening divide between the families of these two brothers (my father and uncle) who once were so close.

From what I have been told my father and his brother were very close all through college and graduate school. They both attended Columbia University at the same time. They both majored in sociology. They both went on to hey PhDs in sociology from Columbia studying under the same mentor, Robert K. Merton. Even at the beginning of their professional careers they remained close working together on research projects and books. “The Cole Brothers” were known as a formidable force!

Very early in his career (around 1969) my father left a tenure track position at Columbia and moved our to Long Island and started his career at The State University of New York at Stony Brook (which would later be renamed, Stony Brook University). I honestly am not sure why my father made this choice and he would come to dislike Long Island intensely later in life. He did become the youngest full professor in Stony Brook University’s history, and I believe he still hold this record to this day.

My mother after my birth, Joanna Lewis Cole, Jonathan R. Cole and Sylvia Cole
My mother after my birth, Joanna Lewis Cole, Jonathan R. Cole and Sylvia Cole, in Port Jefferson, NY

At this point the brothers were still very close… working together and visiting each other and their mother, who lived in Queens, often. When I started to write this blog post I dug through some old family albums that my mother has lent me in order for me to digitize them and found these photos from the year I was born. I have to admit that I was somewhat shocked or, perhaps more accurately… bewildered by the photo of my father holding me up to his face between him and my Aunt Joanna.

My father, me at 6 months old, and Aunt Joanna

As far back as I can remember, I have always felt that my Aunt Joanna didn’t like me. I can’t put a finger on exactly when I was aware of feeling this way as my childhood before the age of 10 is fairly blocked in my memory… but I always felt that she looked down on me or didn’t approve of me for some reason unbeknownst to me, as a child. As a young adult I was keenly aware that Joanna and her children did not care for me and at the time I thought it was because I was an unapologetic outspoken conservative. My uncle and his family were fairly liberal back then and only became more liberal as time went on.

My mother claims that when I was 7 or 8 at a family get together, I called my cousin Daniel a “fag.” I don’t remember this. If I did indeed do this I must have been mimicking my father, who didn’t really have anything against homosexuals but was just an ass. It was clear from a very young age that Dan was homosexual. His parents and my grandmother Sylvia, Nana, were all in denial until he came out of the closest some time in college or shortly thereafter. Once Dan came out he was 100% accepted by everyone in the family. Perhaps my uncle’s family thought I did not approve because I was a “conservative,” but nothing could have been further from the truth. In college I was a hardcore Libertarian style conservative and I couldn’t care less about anyone’s sexuality. My mother also claims that Jonathan and Joanna did not agree with how my mother and father were dealing with me being a “difficult child.” So, according to my mother, I was a significant factor in the dividing of these once so close brothers and their families.

Nick Grinder and Daniel Cole at the celebration of their marriage.

My father had a different point of view. My father had an expectation that Jonathan be grateful to him as my father attributed much of Jonathan’s success to himself. According to my father, Jonathan never would have finished his PhD if it had not been for my father’s help. Also, when my father left the tenure track position at Columbia University this opened that track up to Jonathan. There was very little chance that both brothers would have received tenured professorships at the same university. So from my father’s point of view all of Jonathan’s success at Columbia was to some extent because of my father’s actions. Jonathan couldn’t write a book on his own until he was in his 60’s. His last two books on higher education had little to no input from my father; and quite honestly… I have not read the latest book, but “The Great American University” is a steaming pile of shit, in my opinion. Regardless, my father felt (had the expectation that) Jonathan owed him a debt of gratitude that was never paid.

My father being the emotionally stunted individual he was allowed this disappointment to grow into resentment and this furthered the divide between the brothers and their families.

Sylvia Cole hoklding Richard D. Cole when he was just three days old.
Sylvia Cole (Nana) holding me when I was just 3 days old.

My father also had a very close relationship to his mother, my Nana. He would go into his office and call her for an hour every day. Nana came to visit us on Long Island often. We went to visit with her often at her apartment in Queens. I am named after my father’s father who died when my dad was only 19. Due to me being named after the love of her life and me being the first born grandchild, I was my Nana’s favorite… not that she didn’t totally dote on the other grand children, but we had a special relationship above and beyond what she had with the 3 other grandchildren. Eventually, my father and I both felt disappointed in how his brother and his family treated Nana. Nana had the expectation to be allowed to be present and appreciated in my uncle’s family. By the end of her life Nana too felt very disappointed by the behavior towards her by my Uncle Jonathan and his children.

Sylvia Cole (Nana) holding Daniel Cole in 1975
Sylvia Cole (Nana) holding Daniel Cole in 1975

Despite routine efforts on the part of my Nana to be part of lives of Daniel and Susanna, my uncle’s children/my cousins, she was routinely rebuffed and eventually almost totally excluded. Nana had the expectation that because she was their grandmother and that because she loved them, that they would love her back and want to include her in their lives. This expectations and resulting disappointment had the effect of causing my Nana severe emotional pain and depression. The older Daniel and Susanna got the less Nana heard from them or saw them. She was even excluded from Susanna’s wedding which took place right in NYC while she lived half an hour away in Queens. Multiplying the hurt was the knowledge that the grandchildrens’ other grandmother, Joan Lewis, was included in everything.

Susanna Cole Bach, Joan Lewis (the favored grandmother) and Daniel Cole
Susanna Cole Bach, Joan Lewis (the favored grandmother) and Daniel Cole

I can’t find the words to express how hurt my Nana was by the exclusion she felt coming from her own son’s family. She spoke to me about it often. She cried about this often. She would send the kids gifts and not even get a thank you. She wasn’t the only one treated this way. Neither my brother or I were invited to our cousins’ weddings. My aunt and uncle did have a get together at their apartment several months after Daniel and Nick got married and I was invited to that. I took a lot of very nice pictures of the party and offered them to Daniel and Nick as a kind of wedding gift. I did not get so much as a thank you email or call or anything. Furthermore, and perhaps more insulting… they never even looked at the photos. I put the photos in a password protected gallery on my website and I get notified when someone signs in… they never even signed in to look at the pictures. I tried repeatedly to connect with both of my cousins and was rebuffed every single time.

This blog post has gone on much longer than I had anticipated… The good news is that I have learned my lesson… I no longer have expectations of anyone because I realize that expectations almost always lead to disappointment… and with enough repeated disappointment leads to depression. When I married Lena in 2011 I told her point blank that we should not have expectations of one another. I said that the only expectation I had of her and she should have of me is that we not cheat on one another and that we don’t leave the relationship. I held up my end, she couldn’t live with just those expectations and apparently consistently felt let down by me and eventually asked for a divorce. Now I live a life where the only expectations I have are of myself. Period.

I am a Loser… It’s OK.

On March 11, 2018 Lena told me that I was a loser.  We were talking about my brother, Andy’s, children and I mentioned that Andy wasn’t taking my advice.  Lena turned around and looked at me and said, “Why would he listen to you.  What have you done…”  The end of the sentence kind of trailed off, but the message was clear.  What had I done with my life?  I, after all, was a loser.  It was one of the most hurtful things anyone has ever said to me.  I didn’t say anything at the time but it devastated me inside.  It was then that I knew our marriage was over as far as Lena was concerned.  She had no respect for me at all.  I assume she had some respect for me when we got marriage, but at some point all that was left was anger and a total lack of love and respect for me.

I have suffered with mental illness from the earliest years of my childhood.  I was openly suicidal by the time I was ten years old.  As a child and young adult I never had dreams of what I wanted for the future or what I wanted to be when I grew up… because I had no intention of growing older.  As a high school student I could not imagine living into my twenties.  I didn’t care about grades or doing well on standardized tests because I didn’t think I would live long enough to go to or finish college.  Throughout college I never thought that I would live long enough to graduate; so I made NO plans for an adult life post college.  When I did graduate I didn’t have dreams or hopes to live up to or fulfill.  I got married shortly after graduating and started my own business, but even engaging in these seemingly “rooting” tasks, I did not think of the future and was actively suicidal.  In my mid to late twenties, after my two serious suicide attempts, the doctors told my family that I would most likely never live to see thirty years old.  So… as a kid I didn’t care much about grades and as a young adult I didn’t care much at all about money because I did not think I would live long enough for those things to matter.  If you combine that lack of caring about grades and money with the fact that I have suffered with various mental illnesses such as depression, suicidality (which is a separate illness and not just a symptom of depression), ADD, and some anti-social traits… I guess it would be fair to say that by societal standards, I have always been a loser and that I remain one to this day.

The first half of my life was spent as a student where despite being “obviously bright” I never did particularly well.  I graduated from both high school and college with a 2.9 GPA.  I got a 1070 on my SATs.  Considering that I come from a very academically oriented family and that I have an IQ that has tested anywhere from the mid 120s to mid 140s, my scholastic life was a continual question of when would I fulfill my potential?  As an adult I have never been financially independent.  I have worked some, here and there, but never earned enough to support myself.  I have lived in homes owned by my parents or my wives.  If it were not for my parents and wives there were many times that I would have ended up homeless and hungry… and if that had happened, I would have simply killed myself… without deliberation.

Despite all of the changes during the last seventy years surrounding acceptable roles for women in our culture, societal norms for men have changed very little.  Men are judged by their ability to provide financially for their family.  Our society measures a man’s worth by his net worth.  If given a choice, the parents of most young women would rather their daughters marry a doctor or lawyer over an artist.  The doctor or lawyer is statistically much more likely to be able to support a young family than is an artist, many of whom spend a great deal of their lives living in poverty.  Women can choose a career or choose to stay at home with children and either choice is acceptable to society.  Men have choices in their lives but should be prepared to be judged more harshly than women based on career choices.

Manya-Milaslava (think of a large bitter mean old Russian woman who demands her family glorify her), my mother-in-law, never supported Lena and me getting married.  Her objections were so loud that Lena had to give her mother an ultimatum the week before the wedding: come and be quietly supportive or don’t come at all.  Throughout the seven years of our marriage Manya was always whispering in Lena’s ear that I was a loser and that she could do better and deserved better.  Manya berated me as a loser to my face more than once.  It should be noted that Manya never liked or got along with anyone Lena was with for very long.  Lena’s mother was a large factor in her first marriage falling apart and in our marriage ending.  I once joked with Lena that my only solace was knowing that her mother was so mentally ill herself that she wouldn’t be able to help herself but to be a bitch to the next guy.

My friends and family will tell me that I am not a loser… and I love them for their support.  They will point out my many talents and tell me that I have a big heart.  All of that is true but may, in fact, prove the loser point.  Despite my many talents and my tremendous potential, I have never been a fully autonomous individual.  I am not saying here that I am a loser definitively… just by societal standards.  And, that’s OK.

Invalidated, Unaccepted and Rejected

 

I saw this meme online {No one should have to live their life in silence because they’re scared of being invalidated.} and it really made me think about the circumstances that I accepted surrounding the reconciliation with Lena last fall.  Last October, when Lena told me she wanted a divorce, I was in shock and desperately wanted to work things out with her.  I was so desperate that I agreed to circumstances that had no chances of survival.  I gave Lena everything that she asked for and asked not nothing in return, other than to not get divorced.  Part of what Lena needed from me was for me to be in Westchester full-time, to get along with everyone there and for us to have a “normal life” in Westchester.  In order for me to make this request a reality I had to constantly bite my tongue.  Day in and day out was an exercise in me keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself both inside our home and in public.  Even our therapist, Ralph, said this was an impossible scenario to keep up.

This notion of a “normal life” had come up numerous times during our seven year marriage.  Lena married me knowing all of my history.  She knew about my suicide attempts.  She knew about my depressions.  She knew about my totally dysfunctional family of origin.  She knew about my first failed marriage to Ava and the fiasco of a relationship I had with Jessamyn.  Lena knew about all of my hospitalizations and all of my psychiatric history.  So, one can imagine, it came as somewhat of a shock a year into our marriage when Lena said, “I am a normal person.  I want a normal life and a normal marriage.  I need you to be normal.”  This totally blew me away!

Aside from all of my psychiatric history, which was obviously significant, separate from all of that I was never “normal.”  I never wanted to be “normal.”  I had always been an outspoken critic of our government and politically correct social trends.  I had been a long-time and vocal supporter of various underdogs.  I had a long history of writing about my thoughts and predictions for the whole world to read.  I had always been known as someone who told people just how things were; there was no beating around the bush with me.  There was no way I wanted to be a quiet, sheltered, spineless, voiceless suburban mouse!!!!

The first time Lena brought up this issue of desiring normalcy I really wasn’t sure how to react and probably just ignored her.  If she wanted normal, she married the wrong guy.  I am not sure if she had any idea of how hurtful this was on her part.  Her expressing her desire for normalcy was a direct act of invalidating who I was.  She married me knowing exactly what and who I was; and then immediately expected me to change to something completely different.  Why do women marry a man and then try to change him?  If she wanted me to be different she should have told me before we got married.

I don’t remember exactly when certain things were said, but at some point Lena went as far as to say, “You are not a mental patient anymore.”  I assumed, at the time, that she was saying this in a positive way… as in, look how far you have come from the days when your mental illness dominated every aspect of your life.  She may have meant it nicely, but in fact, it was very dismissive of me, my history and in part of my very identity.  There was a point in my life where I allowed my designation as a mental patient to define who I was.  At some point in life, starting before I married Lena, I no longer defined myself by my illnesses.  There were, however, some things that were still important to me that Lena never gave credence to… such as the anniversaries of my suicide attempts.  She never remembered them… she never asked how I was around those times.  To people who have been through what I have, those dates are important.  There were also times of each year that tended to be harder for me, specifically the months of March and November.  I always seemed to struggle more in those months.  Again, Lena either didn’t remember this, despite me telling her several times, or she just didn’t care.  Our marriage ended on a horrible note… in March.

Perhaps I expected too much of Lena because of her work.  Lena is a molecular biologist who studied the biology of suicide.  I thought that she had a better understanding of psychology and specifically of suicide.  Apparently, one can study the biology of suicide, and be good at it, and not understand the psychology of suicide at all.  I also mistakenly thought she was more in tune to me.

 

This image is for artistic representation of a feeling only. It does not represent any threat or intention to harm myself.

This self portrait displays how I felt… I could not speak because Lena had a gun to my head… If I spoke my mind, she would end the marriage.  I was being emotionally held hostage.  I feared Lena would become my Natasha; my father’s third wife who beat his spirit dead and held him emotionally hostage.

Dear Lena… Yesterday Sucked.

Dear Lena,

Yesterday was a horrible day.  It really sucked.  My mother had a car accident and called me one the phone upset and asking me to come down and help her out.  As I pulled into her driveway I got the text from you saying you had gone to a lawyer to initiate the divorce process.

I can’t say that the text came out of the blue; after all, we have been separated for five weeks and have had zero communication for almost two weeks.  As I read that text my stomach churned.  I almost threw up in the car and I felt like someone had hit me in the groin with a 20 lbs sledgehammer.  I felt dizzy and my arrhythmia instantly kicked into high gear.  I felt like I did when I shot myself in the chest.  I stood outside my car for a minute expecting to collapse.  I really felt like I might die right then and there.  I am not that lucky.

I know that all you did was call the lawyer.  I know you have every right to move forward with a divorce and with your life.  I know all of this in my head.  I can even give several reasons why we didn’t work out in the past or why it wouldn’t make sense for us to try again.  I know we were both unkind to each other at times and especially at the very end.  I know I made mistakes.  I am well aware of my many imperfections.  I know living with me is hard… apparently impossible.  I can be grumpy and depressed, sullen and removed, angry and loud, introverted and un-affectionate… I know all of this.  Yet despite knowing all of this, I am emotionally devastated.  I feel as if I am dying inside.

Yesterday I also realized it wasn’t just the romantic aspects of our relationship that I missed; although I definitely do miss that too.  I miss our friendship… the one we had at the beginning and the first few years of our marriage.  I miss talking to you about your research.  Once you started the new job we lost that connection.  So many things changed four and half years ago.

I know there is no going backwards in life.  I just wish we could find some different way forward that included us rather than a divided divorced us.  There were many good times, yet the bad times seem to crowd out those good memories.  I keep thinking about Montreal and Hilton Head… strawberry picking and trips to our river.  Even the “little” things like holding you are night when we went to sleep and bringing you coffee in the morning.

I also don’t understand how we both can say the other is the love of our lives, yet we can’t find some way to make things work.  If you are the love of my life and I am the love of your life… and we can’t find a way to stay married then love is worthless and I don’t ever want to be in love again.  I guess that despite the rough exterior, I am still that kid who believed that love could conquer all.  If love doesn’t conquer all… If we, with our love, can’t conquer all… then what is the point of love?  What’s the point of life without a love than can indeed conquer all?

Love’s Delusions & Love Matured

I have been away from Lena for five weeks at this point.  One thing that has become crystal clear this past month is that love does truly blind us.  Love changes how we see the object of our desire.  Love allows us to let the little things, that would otherwise upset us, go.  Love has such enormous power over our brains that it can even change the way we see someone physically with our eyes.  Love often doesn’t make sense.

I spent most of the day yesterday feeling sad because I miss Lena so… despite the fact that she pushed me away… despite the fact that she has cruelly cut off all communication between us and between me and her kids whom I helped raise for eight years.  I miss her even though intellectually I can give ten reasons why we weren’t a good match for one another.  I yearn for her even though she was really unfair to me in our marriage and I can now see that she never accepted me for who I really am.  My heart physically aches even though Lena was often neither kind, loving or caring.  I don’t want to give the wrong impression here.  Lena is an amazing woman.  I love her with all of my heart and soul.

It’s very interesting to me… as I have been living through this round of heartbreak, I have noticed that some things are very different from love sorrows of the past.  People ask me, “What do you miss about Lena?”   I miss bringing her coffee in the mornings.  I miss wrapping my arm tightly around her as we fell asleep.  I miss washing her back and shampooing her hair.  I miss watching her dress in the morning and pulling the zipper up on her dress.  I miss cooking dinner for the kids and watching them enjoy it.  I miss watching the kids sporting events.  Almost all of the things I actively miss are things I did for Lena and her kids.  Whereas, during past episodes of heartbreak many of the things I missed were things the person had done for me.  Does this mean I have matured?  Am I less of the narcissistic prick I used to be?

I could very easily find someone else to bring coffee to… but I don’t find myself interested in doing these things for someone else.  Despite the negatives I now see more clearly as love’s blinders have been removed with time away from Lena…I still miss her.  I still ache in my very soul for her.  I still love her.

Love alters reality.  This isn’t just true of romantic love; it’s also true of familial love – but that is for another post.

Deals with the Devil Never Work Out

In the fall of 2017 I was working in Vermont.  Each morning I would either talk to or text with Lena.  On the morning of October 4th, I was texting with her about the up coming weekend and my plans to come down and spend time with her and the kids.  Lena texted me that she didn’t think I should come down.  It wasn’t really clear what she meant and I pushed her to explain.  Lena told me in a text message that she wanted to end our marriage.  She said she could not go on like this anymore and that she deserved to be happy.  She kept saying, “I have to do this for me and for my kids.”

I was devastated.  I knew things could be better.  I knew that some key aspects of our marriage were not the way Lena would have chosen them to be at this point.  When we first started dating and got married, I had a home and some work in upstate New York while Lena and her children lived full time in Rivertown NY.  At the time of our marriage I agreed to spend up to half of my time down in Rivertown with Lena and the kids and I would attempt to build some business down there.  This was an unconventional arrangement that many people did not understand.  I thought Lena understood it and why I needed to not live downstate full time.

Let me back up a little… I grew up on Long Island and as a child my parents had a second home in Southern Vermont.  We spent many weekends, most school vacations and every summer up in Vermont.  I always loved Vermont and was determined to live there some day as a child.  During the five years I was in college I dropped out two or three times, each time moving to Vermont for a few months.  After being in Vermont for a while I would feel refreshed… like my batteries had been recharged.  I would return to school and get through a few semesters before dropping out again and hibernating in Vermont to refuel my soul.

The last year of my marriage to Ava we were living in College Station GA.  When Ava asked for a divorce I could have moved anywhere.  I moved to Vermont full time.  Although I did attempt suicide twice while living in Vermont, I still maintain that there is something very therapeutic about living in the mountain and being out in nature.  For several years I owned a property maintenance business which kept me busy working outside year round.  The work was both physically demanding and emotionally undemanding…. a combination that allowed me to heal in many ways.

When I started dating Lena I was determined to learn from my mistakes of the past.  I was 100% honest with her.  I told her all about my suicide attempts, my marriage and divorce from Ava.  She heard countless stories about my dysfunctional family as a child.  I told her about all of my shortcomings and issues.  I made sure that at every step forward Lena knew exactly what she was getting into.  I told her that I could never live downstate full-time; I needed my time in the country to regroup and maintain my sanity and physical health.

So, back to October 2017… Lena ended our marriage in a text message.  I was devastated.  All of the progress I had thought I had made the past 20 years, in terms of my suicidal ideation, flew out the window.  I almost immediately started having panic attacks whenever I left the house at first; then even at home, so all of the time.  I wanted to be dead.  I told Lena that I could not live without her and that I wanted to be dead.  I posted numerous sad songs (YouTube videos) on Facebook.  I wrote on Facebook that even with all of the pain I had been through previously in my life, this was the worst pain ever.  Lena said my behavior, the post on Facebook, were crazy.  That will be another entry here.

I did feel crazy for about a week.  I also was acting in a manipulative manner… texting Lena my suicidal thoughts and desires.  A week into this total shit storm I still did not really know why this had happened then.  I called up Lena and begged her to speak with me on the phone and to just give me some explanation.  I said that she at least owed me that much.  We did speak and she gave me some of her reasons but we didn’t really get to the meat of the matter.  After the phone call I agreed to not bother her anymore.

Several days past during which I stopped posting “crazy” stuff on Facebook and I did not reach out at all to Lena.  One night, about two weeks after the initial break up text, Lena reached out to me via a Facebook message.  I was asleep at the time but did return her text the next morning.  We ended up speaking on the phone.  At this time Lena said she could no longer live with the arrangement we made when we got married… my living down with her and the kids only 50% of the time.  She said she asked for the divorce because she knew how much I loved the country and that I needed my time there.  She said she still loved me, was still in love with me and missed me.  We both ended up crying on the phone.

What Lena did not know was that after our phone call, before her texting me, I had made a deal with the Devil.  After the “explanation phone call” I had promised myself that if Lena changed her mind and was ever willing to try again, I would do anything she asked without hesitation regardless of what it was.  I  also promised myself that I would keep my mouth shut about anything that might be bothering me in Rivertown or in our home there.  It was a promise made in total desperation.  When Lena did reach out a few days later I came through on that promise to myself.

Lena wanted a “normal life” and a “normal marriage.”  She wanted us to live together full-time.  She wanted me to get a regular job.  Lena said she did not think I would be willing to do these things so she felt she had no other choice but to end the marriage.  I said, “I will move down there next week.  Full-time.  Period.”  I even told her that I would get a real job.

Lena and I ended up reconciling.  I packed up a few things and closed down my house.  I quit working and just walked away from my life in the country.  I moved down to Rivertown at the end of October 2017.  The problem with promises or deals made in desperation is that it’s almost impossible to keep them and remain sane and true to oneself.

The first few weeks living with Lena and the kids full-time was really nice.  However, almost from the very first day I was there I found myself biting my tongue.  At first it was just once in a while because at the beginning we were all in love again like when we first started dating.  As time went by I found myself biting my tongue about all kinds of things day in and day out. It was a constant effort on my part.  I knew to some degree that I was not being fair to myself but I said I was doing it “for our marriage.”  Also, no one can hold in all negative emotions or comments without some eventual blow up.  When I did finally blow up, which I will write about soon, I said something I can never take back and forever changed my relationship with Lena.

Life Lesson:  Don’t ever make promises out of fear or desperation.  They never hold true in the long run.