Order and Appearance

Order and Appearance

The mimosa tree was a place of refuge with it’s smooth bark short truck, not too high limbs that were perfect for climbing, sitting in and reading. 

The Seuss-like spiky, pink, white with a bit of yellow puffball blossoms shot up from fern like leaves and put out a faint sweet smell.

Girlfriends came over to climb with me, photos give evidence that we are related to monkeys.

It was the only tree in our large front yard that was mainly green St. Augustine grass with a couple of low growing red azalea bush flower beds. 

Our yard was neat and tidy. In fact, we were Yard of the Month once, and a sign was placed by the local garden club near the street for all to see. Certainly, John Henry, our sweet yard man should have been given this award, but that’s another story.

One day Daddy cut down my mimosa tree because the blossoms were messy. 

The Ethics of Silence

“The ethics of silence are just as tricky. Is it ethical to keep the stories hidden?  If I am to be silenced in the name of niceness, are we not also suppressing the whole truth? Half-truths linger silently, a monument to missed opportunities, a quietness of suppression.” Sandra Hager Eliason

I sit drinking coffee this morning feeling somewhat powerless. 

There is nothing I can do. 

My ex-husband who I haven’t seen in twenty years—except for about 30 minutes ten years ago—made a statement for a legal document that determines me being able or not able to see my grandchildren. He stated that I have borderline personality disorder. He is not a professional psychiatrist or counselor by a long shot. In fact, once when faced with looking at his part in our conflicts at a therapist office, he lashed out at me and told me it was my fault. In talking recently with an ex-boss that my ex-husband and I shared, he had similar issues with my ex not being able to take responsibility for his short comings or mistakes. Some of those mistakes cost the business quite a bit of money.

 My ex and I made the commitment to move in together when my daughter was five. That summer I drove her out West to be with her real dad. On my return home, my now ex-husband sat me down and told me he had an affair with his college sweetheart while I was gone. He begged for forgiveness and I granted it. 
There was another woman a few years later. My bad, I forgave him again. 
After ten years together and another discovered betrayal we eventually separated. Not divorced yet and still going to counseling together, he began secretly seeing his college sweetheart again. 

By this time, my alcoholism was in full swing. Alcohol was my coping mechanism, albeit a very unhealthy one. On top of that, after a hysterectomy my hormones were causing me to feel unhinged after surgically onset menopause. It wasn’t pretty. 

When I discovered this secret developing relationship my heart was broken and all trust issues between us were triggered. It was traumatizing. 

On a drunken night I phoned said college sweetheart and called her a whore. 
She is not a whore, probably a lovely person.

I recall my ex-husband telling me after that incident that she had suggested that I might have borderline personality disorder and he should cut me out of his life.
During my daughter’s college years, she spent summers with my ex-husband and his new girlfriend, now wife. They shared this information with my daughter and told her about the time I made the phone call calling her a whore. 

My daughter and I have struggled since our divorce. Without her knowing of his betrayals, she sees me as the one who broke up our happy home. My alcoholism and behaviors while drinking is what she witnessed. She did not witness or experience his betrayals. 

My ex-husband’s strongest feature is that he is a very nice guy. If anyone challenges that they may begin to feel less than behind closed doors—as in a marriage. 

Writing memoir will not change events that occurred. My hope is that it gives some freedom by sharing untold truths and gives a reader the courage to share their untold truths. 

I share with you an essay, Ethics of Silence by Sandra Hager Eliason published on Brevity’s blog