The Rule Book

While the court usually gives parents rules with which they both must abide by in the process of a divorce, I had decided to make up my own un written list.

1. If Tommy was with me , he would call his mom at least twice a day


2. I would never get a babysitter


3. If Maria needed me to watch Tommy for her I would cancel any and all plans


4. Tommy would give his mother a birthday, christmas,valentines and easter cards and presents


5. I would always tell Tommy I loved his mom


6. I would never hit Tommy


7. I would never curse at Tommy


8. I would pick Tommy up from school everyday


9. I would do homework with Tommy everyday


10. I would encourage Tommy to be artistic instead of athletic

I know it probably seems like a pretty long list but it was one I adhered to for some time. Even though I was an only child , I never felt as though I was a priority. My education, while private, seemed as though they were showing off. When I didn't do well they were the ones who were embarassed. Even when I did well, it still never seemed good enough.

Strangely enough, it was my parents own disregard for me that made me see divorce in a different light. There was no way I was going to disregard Maria the way they disregarded me. She was valuable in Tommys life. He needed to see that even though his mom and I weren't together anymore, I still respected her and acknowledged her. And even on the days that Maria and I were at odds, as far as Tommy was concerned, my support and love for her would not change. I'd seen on so many ocasions the way in which parents play their kids against eachother. "your dad di this. Your mom did that." While I knew that Maria and my parents engaged in that type of dialogue with Tommy, I wasn't going to play that game. Belive me, there were days when it wasn't so easy.

When Jennifer and I started seeing eachother I laid it flat on the table. Tommy was my priority. Please don't try to compete with him. If we have plans to go on a trip and Maria calls on our way to airport because she needs me to watch Tommy, I'll turn the car around no questions asked. I was going to be a hands on father and no one was going to change that. What I didn't see then was that I was essentially giving Jennifer rules to play by and saying her feelings were secondary. My views were well intentioned, but in time I would realize how severly flawed they were.

The one thing my therpist said as our relationship grew was that the residual side effects from my divorce and abuse would eventually rear their ugly head.

Jennifer

To be quite honest I wasn't sure where it began. For months people had told me to "see someone." I wasn't in the mood. I had no ability to relate. Emotionally I was a mess. Many of my male friends said I should use this time to ...well, go a little crazy. However, I had this one little obstacle. I was a daddy. I have, and still do, tried to conduct my life as though Tommy is standing behind me watching it all unfold. For some reason, this concept has always made me pause a little. And with my mind, a pause was a good thing. Reluctantly I did go out on a few dates. It never lasted. A few awkward stares. One or two dinners and then I wouldn't call back. My heart just wasn't in it.Yet. It was around this time that one of my friends, Kjersti, suggested I ask out a girl that worked at the gym. Her name was Jennifer. My answer was not only no, but hell no. She was too young, too tall, never in a good mood, and we worked together. A pure recipe for disaster. Workplace romances never workout well, which is why they are usually frowned upon. Kjersti, however, was persistent. I mean she wouldn't let up. Finally I relented. "OK" I said."I'll take the both of you to lunch. Will you let it go after that?" Well after that one lunch I went home feeling ......weird. I had this strange feeling in my stomach. Maybe I had gotten food poisoning. Wait a second. I knew what this was. Butterflies. How could this happen? She wasn't even my type. And to be quite honest she didn't seem all that interested. I knew I had to find a way to get rid of this feeling. I would ask her out again and than I was sure something about her would stand out and I would be able to put her out of my mind. We had a very low key dinner at a Cuban restaurant. No luck. We had a nice dinner at a nice restaurant. No luck. We saw a movie. Still no luck...aaargh! What the hell was wrong with me? Over the course of a month or so I had learned a great deal about her life, family,past relationships,hopes and dreams. I had a great amount of respect for her. I admired her. Behind that angry exterior was a funny, intelligent,focused, loving, beautiful woman. "I don't love her. I just ,you know. I don't know what I'm feeling."It was all I could muster up after telling my therapist about Jennifer. "OK. well, I have seen your eyes light up in this room only when you talk about your son. Until today. It's OK to love her Tom. You don't have to feel guilty. People who are hurt growing up have some of the deepest and strongest love to give. It's hidden beneath all that pain. You love her. Remember ,to love her, does not deny the love you had for Maria. Your heart is simply reaching out to another. I would bet that there is some pain in her past. Your heart chose hers for a reason. " "I'm so scared." I replied. The emotion had overcome me by now. I couldn't explain it. "Why are you scared Tom? What is it?" "What if she doesn't love me back.What if she leaves me? I'm no good" By now I had curled up into a ball. "Listen to me Tom, I don't know if she loves you. I can't tell you she'll never leave. I can tell you , it isn't healthy to live this way. You can't go through life not doing things because your afraid it will be taken away, or that someone is going to leave. It may be over tomorrow, but at least you loved. At least you opened your heart. Get out of that closet. The door is open. The light may be just as painful but at least you are living. Being stuck in that closet isn't living. And right now you're stuck." My fear about this new relationship existed on many levels. I wasn't sure what I wanted to or what I needed to tell Jennifer about Maria. She knew I had a son, but she never met him. I didn't want to just introduce Jennifer to Tommy. I had seen many divorced parents date. I didn't want Tommy to see this revolving door of women go through his life. I didn't want him to get attached and than 2 months later it was over, and he was left with questions about why he couldn't see his friend anymore. I wasn't sure how I would handle the dating thing, but I knew what I didn't want to do. I also needed him to know that he was my priority. Children are perceptive and they can figure out when they are being shuffled around to fit another adults schedule. I didn't want to do that. I wanted him to feel secure. He belonged to me. We were a family. In time I hoped that we would be able to invite another person into our family. It would be someone we both loved. Someone who loved us. Was that person Jennifer? Only time would tell. One thing was sure. I had fallen in love with Jennifer during this uncertain time in my life. I would soon find out that my mind instinctively resorted back to my original train of thought when she and I would encounter conflict . As that would happen , my therapist and I would try to put it back on track. It wasn't easy. But for the first time in my life I started feeling human.

Love and Acknowledgment

I have always said that there are two phrases in the human language that require a leap of faith and in turn mean so much. The first is "I love you." When you say it , you never know the response. What if they don't love you back? What if this love isn't wanted? And once it's out there, it's out there permanently. It's unnerving. I can still remember to this day telling an 8 year old girl I loved her and her shrugging her shoulders and running away.I remember my first real girlfriend, Diane Hardman. I told her I loved her . When I moved I was devastated. My parents would tell me they loved me when I was a child, and than in the next breath they would tell me I wasn't good enough. It should have come as no surprise, that while I felt love for people I always questioned the love that was given to me . I never really believed it. I figured I was just a step away from heartache. The second phrase is "I'm sorry." Boy I have said my share of I'm sorry's over the years. When you say your sorry , you are truly putting yourself out there. What if the person doesn't accept your apology? Some wrongs take a while to be forgiven. Time can heal old wounds. However, I also believe that time can create a widening space that as it passes,isn't easily crossed. Some wounds and scars run very deep. I went home after hearing from my son what my parents had told him and just sat. I was devastated. My son was told by two people who love him that I was not to be loved. That I was a bad person. These people were my parents. The two people who should have loved me unconditionally. How can you tell that to a child? What does this do to a child's mind? If a child gets half of their identity from one parent and the other half from another , what goes through their minds when they are told that one of their parents isn't loved? Do they in turn feel unloved. Are they ashamed to be the child of this parent? Will they grow up always expecting their parents to one day not love them? I just didn't know. I'm still not quite sure if these and other things my parents have said will have a long term effect on my sons mind. It's manipulating. It's so cruel. Yes, I know they had calculated that he would tell me. This was their way of getting their message of contempt for me delivered ,by the person I loved most. It's sad, but as my history had shown me, it was par for the course. I'll still never understand where the disconnect comes in someones mind and heart to do some of the things they've done. I know the names were meant to infuriate me. I know the hitting was designed to make me submissive. And I know the closet was used as a deterrent. As I reflected on all these things, I began to feel an overwhelming sense of anger and emotion. I was in my 30's now. I could defend myself. My son was innocent. To manipulate his mind for the sole purpose of hurting me was the ultimate betrayal.When I sat down to talk with my therapist about this latest happening, she could sense the darkness setting in to my mind. "Before we talk about this moving forward, how does that make you feel Tom? Your parents don't love you. You're parents don't even think enough of you to say it to your face. They use your son. How does that make you feel?" Alone. Worthless. I'm no good.Angry. "And how do you want to respond to this? If they were here right now." I'm not sure. I'd probably shut down. "OK , look you have got to learn how to constructively deal with this. When you keep it bottled up inside, it eats away at you emotionally. It doesn't leave you a ton of room to handle the rest of liefs stresses. " I knew where she was going with this. For so long, I had held in my hurt feelings. I never told anyone. I just stored it in my heart. It slowly broke me down over the years. So I made a decision on that day. I was tired of the abuse. I was tired of being called stupid. I was tired of being afraid. And there was no way on earth I would let Tommy endure what I endured. There was no way his emotions would be manipulated. I had to do what was right. I knew it wouldn't be a popular move , but it was one that had to be made. When I got home I called my attorney. "Deanne, I'm not sure I feel comfortable with my parents having unlimited access to my son. I think they are purposely manipulating his emotions to hurt me. I can't do it anymore. It's not right. I know I'm setting up a huge fight with my parents." It was a sickening feeling. I talked with our court appointed family counselor who in turn talked to my therapist and they both agreed. To allow my parents to continue the abuse through my son was unacceptable. I had to take a stand. I knew this decision would set me down a path I couldn't backtrack. I think for so long I held on to the idea that one day my parents would look at me like a man. That one day they would acknowledge the fact that I was a good man. A good father. I looked at all the cards they had sent me for birthdays and fathers day . The words were there."we are so proud of you for being a good man." The actions were somewhere else. My mother routinely called me stupid. In front of my son. It got me angry . I knew I had to remove myself from that, so I wouldn't walk around with that anger. My father would explode at the most unpredictable times. I knew it was a knee jerk reaction to a frustration he was feeling at home. I didn't want that to be my relationship with Tommy. As I signed the extra addition to my custody request I hesitated. I was so heartbroken. With this decision I would have nobody. No family. Our court appointed therapist sensed my hesitation. I didn't want to do it. I wanted this to be a bad dream that I would just wake up from. I sat their in my attorneys office defeated. Sick with heartbreak. My therapist walked in and handed me a 3 sheets of paper stapled together. It was the interview she had conducted with my parents. "This is who they are Tom. Read it. This is what they think of you. I know you don't want to do this but abusers only respond to strength. Find the strength. You are a good man. A good father. We acknowledge it. But you need to acknowledge it. Just read it." So I sat and read. The more I read, the more I was sure. These people didn't love me. These people didn't know me. They were obviously very wounded. Most likely with their own set inner pain. However , as much as I wanted to reach out I realized that I had to protect my son. About 10 minutes later I signed the amendment to our custody request. Trial was still months away. I went home and tried to decompress. That night I watched a special on the discovery channel about Jeffrey Dahmer. The special was about Dahmers parents. I watched as Jeffrey Dahmers father described the pain that his sons actions had caused him. He obviously loved his son. During the interview he talked about weekly driving 4 hours each way to see his son in prison. He hated what his son had done, but he loved his son. Wait! My parents lived about 1 1/2 hours away. I never hurt anyone. In the year and half since Maria and I had separated, I hadn't received one call. Not one visit. Am I worse than a serial killer? No. For what ever reason my parents felt a disconnect with me. Enough of a disconnect to completely shut me out of their lives. Their relatives would follow suit. To this day , I haven't heard from any of my family. I have reached out and called my grandmother, but she has never once called me. It's an issolating feeling. Would I change my decision knowing what I know now? Absolutely not. I mean seriously, what kind of parents turn their back on their child? I'm not sure. But I can't make myself sick trying to make sense of their actions. My next therapy appointment took on a different tone. "So I have a question." My therapist was intrigued. I never opened up with a question. Not quite sure of my wording I embarrassingly said " I think I've met someone. I'm not sure what to do" "You've fallen in love." she said with a faint smile. "That's not what I said." "You didn't have to. Tell me about her." With so much going on in my life the strangest thing had happened. I learned I could love again. However, as I would soon learn, my wounds were very deep. I wasn't ready . I still didn't love myself, and the more I thought of someone else entering my heart, the more I looked for excuses not to love myself. The storm was starting again. And this time I would drag a new person into my chaos.

Pride and Selfishness

Pride. It should be a 4 letter word. I consider myself a prideful person. I try to hold my head high. If I'm wrong or have made a mistake I hold my chin up and admit it. Pride in your relationship can lead you to make ,well.....illadvised decisions. I have been training people,men and women alike, for the past 15 years. I watched marriages, divorces, children be born, the loss of loved one, and just about every other form of the human experience. It has given me a keen insight as to what works and what doesn't. When it comes to conflict I have noticed that you have to put your cards on the table right away and you have to be willing to compromise. It seems simple right? you'd be surprised how many people don't do it. I never compromised in my marriage. It was all at my pace,my desire,and my plan. I'll give you a simple example. Take the last year of your current relationship. Think of all the movies you have gone to see with your partner. How many are the ones you wanted and how many were the ones your spouse wanted to see? Be honest. You men out there, I promise your wives didn't want to see Terminator4 . Women, your husbands didn't want to see Becomming Jane. But it has to be give and take. When I was married, it was only the ones I wanted to see. I compromised nothing . This simple thing was an example of a deeper problem. I was selfish. Now selfishness has different causes. I was selfish because I didn't want to sacrifice something for someone who was just going to leave and hurt me later anyway. I was never taught through example how to share. I ws showed at a young age that if you want something you take it. And god forbid I had to do something I didn't want...well you make life a living hell for the person that brought you. It was horrible. However , through example this is what I was taught. While I knew that it was too late to repair our relationship from a personal standpoint, I needed to make things better for us as parents. So I started using a phrase that I still use to this day. "It's not about me." In fact it ceases being about you the minute you find out your spouse is pregnant. It should become about that small life that you are both raising. I see many divorced parents argue over time, affection, discipline, and rules. For the most part we as parents both want the same thing. We want our children to grow up well adjusted and we want the pain of divorce to be as minimal as possible. Yet we drive theses constant wedges in between ourselves and our exspouses for no other reason than to disagree. Why? Because we are not feeling as though we are being heard. Or maybe we felt as though we sacrificed everything in the marriage "now it's my turn." What gets lost is that little child that just wants to feel secure. It has to be a conscience decision on one or both of the parents involved. "We are no longer together, but I value you because you are our childs parent. Because I value you, I will value everything you have to say as it regards to our child." It's not an easy task. I've gotten selfish in the past. What about me? What about what I want? The truth is, it doesn't matter what I want. I have to do what is best for my child. This may make me feel slighted,uncomfortable, shortchanged or unpopular, but in the end it isn't about me . My therapist and I would talk about pride a great deal. She felt that in her experience, pride hurt so many fathers relationships with their children. When I asked why, she said it was easy for men to point fingers at their exwives and say "this" is the reason why we are divorced. You didn't do enough of "this." or You never appreciated "that." When I started writing , I wanted to make a conscience decision to not get in to finger pointing. Maria and I got divorced. I'm sure she has her own perspective of who did what and why. For me to truly heal, and become a better man ,I needed to look at myself and my faults. And one thing that everyone in a healthy or unhealthy relationship needs to undestand is that every action has a cause. This is in no way a copout or scapegoat for bad behavior. But before you correct the behavior you need to understand the motivation or cause of the behavior. When I felt underappreciated, I imediately flashed to my mother. All the hurtful words. When I felt scared I thought of my father. As an only child I opened up to no one. When I got married , nothing changed. Now, in my early thirties I had to play catchup and learn how to communicate. That communication meant swallowing my pride, not being selfish, and asking for help. In the midst of all this discovery and rebuilding something happened that almost derailed everything. It was one of the afternoons that I went to have lunch with Tommy at daycare. "Dad, why doesn't grandma cheryl and grandpa Joe love you?" What?! "they said they don't love you and you're a bad person." I immediately saw red. And I felt the snowball in my mind start rolling down hill. I was heading into a deep depression. Fast.

Moving forward

Therapy to me is like slowly peeling back the skin of an onion. It's a little tedious and there are a lot of tears. But when you get to the core of everything you feel a great sense of accomplishment. One thing I did want to make clear was that I wasn't locked in a closet everyday. I wasn't thrown around by my dad everyday. There were times when I truly felt loved and valued. It was very subtle the pain inflicted. One Christmas my parents didn't give me any presents to punish me. No tree. Just another day. I went back to school and told everyone of all the presents I got. I mean how would I explain that. I was 9 years old. My dad had an old car that he would drop me off in at an elite private school in South Carolina. Every morning he made sure to tell me he could afford a new car if he didn't have to pay for my education. Then quickly he would say have a good day. When I played baseball I was told "don't embarrass me" before practices. My mother would make backhanded comment about my cousins being smarter than I was. She would point out kids in my class that I was smarter than but she made sure to note the ones I wasn't. It was a constant guessing game. I never felt very secure in my own skin. At any minute I could be slapped or be called stupid. I retreated a great deal. I imagined a better life. I imagined being famous. When I got older that feeling of unease didn't stop. In fact I was constantly insecure about myself. I always thought the worst would happen. I got depressed a great deal. I used humor and anger to fend off those feelings of depression. I would, and still do, make light of everything. I look for the humor. I would get angry at the fear and depression in my heart. I took up martial arts so I could defend myself against that fear. Every bully , every scary situation, every argument represented my fathers rage or that dark closet. I would imagine the day that I would strike back against my father and the day that I was strong enough to kick the closet open. I'm still scared of the dark to this day. It really pisses me off. I'm 37, in good shape, a pro fighter, but I am petrified of the dark. When someone puts their hands near my face I flinch. To this day. When I hear the word "stupid" my blood boils. When Maria and I got married , I was in pretty bad shape. I had spent about a year in the military and was in great need of feeling complete. Maria ,I hoped would save me. She would be my companion in the dark. She would never call me stupid. Never hit me. She would constantly believe in me. And for the most part all of that was true. So what happened? I would get these huge waves of depression. I would feel like a failure. Sometimes even suicidal. My response to this was to work like a madman. I didn't want to face Maria. She didn't understand me anyway. When I would come home I would be seeking acknowledgement, Maria had her own job and work and didn't always have the time to tell me how great I was. I took that lack of acknowledgement as an outright attack. So I withdrew and slid farther and farther into depression. I was hardwired for failure. No sense of security, deep separation anxiety,self deprecating,passive aggressive, and very hurt. I wish I could have talked to my wife. Sadly, to this day it has never happened. "In a perfect world Tom, how would you want to raise your son with Maria?" It was nearly 6 months into therapy and our court date that would decide our custody issues was looming. This was a very important question. I tend to think a little idealistically at times. Therapy will do that to you. I had become much more confident in my own skin. I wasn't as depressed. However the fear that Maria would win our custody battle gave me anxiety. Maria was seeking sole custody,sole conservator ship,and she wanted the right to move out of travis county. The idea that Tommy would grow up without me was devastating. I was so scared. I knew however, aside from fixing my own problems , I would have to learn how to work with Maria forever when it came to parenting Tommy. My answer seemed a little silly. " I would like us to do all birthdays together. Have equal amounts of times during holidays, share summer, go to all parent teacher conferences together, and show up at all school functions together." My therapist for the fist time ever smiled at me. "OK. You realize that you guys are divorced right? That's not very realistic. Right now she won't even talk to you. Lets break that down a little." I was undeterred. Now, nearly 7 years later , that is exactly how we do things. So how did we pull it off? It wasn't easy, but here's how we did it. "

The Calm and the Storm

I went home with a heavy heart. I never thought of myself as being abused. I was adopted. Given attention and private schools. I should be greatful.I was starting to believe this less and less. I never talked about this. Maria was my best friend, the only woman I had ever been intimate with but we realy had never talked about anything. I wasn't about to start now. I realy needed to figure out what was going on in my head. I was still very lost. Maria and I were officialy divorced but our battle over custody insued. I knew in my heart that we would never be together again, and still I felt I owed her something. I felt like when we were together she never realy knew me. I wanted to explain to her who I was. Before I did that I needed to think about how my childhood had affected my behavior as an adult. I wasn't looking for an excuse. A link. And if I found one I needed to break the cycle. Right now. I had about 5 days to realy reflect. I wasn't a big yeller . Im' still not. I think in many ways it's waisted energy. I have also never hit or pushed Maria. I was worried that my abuse may have been emotional. I would shut down and deny feelings. I did this often. I would run hot and cold. I was either all in or all out. A pattern started surfacing. The minute I felt vulnerable I pushed people away. If I felt to content I would create drama. So I came up with this theory that I called "the calm and the storm." You see I felt that in relationships their exsists two types of people. There are those that are calm. They need calm to flourish. They get places on time, usually make schedules,make to do lists , and need a sense of peace and tranquility to thrive. They are constatnly trying to exisist in a calm enviroinment. At the same time I think there are those who are just the opposite. These people are the storm. They need chaos around to feel purposeful. They overbook themselves,are constantly late, and never follow a set schedule. When things are going well they will create drama to feel alive. I was very much a storm and Maria was the calm. The problem was that whenever things got calm I created chaos. So when Maria was just getting adjusted I threw it all to hell. I cant imagine how unstable that was. I showed up to my next session with a little more clarity. "So Tom did you think about which kind of product of abuse you are?" I knew I was a fighter. I refused to be beaten down. I hated weakness. I hated being scared. I often ran to what scared me. " So think about this. You routinely step into the fire. I mean you cage fight for christ sakes. You think thats a little byproduct of being locked in a closet, thrown around by your father, and constantly demeaned? Of course it is. You once told me you fight because your scared. I get that. Most athletes draw from some sense of emotion in order to compete. But what happens when you don't have to compete anymore? I mean it's just you and your partner? You have to be able to face the world together . Husband and wife. Two equals. Together. If you don't you know what happens. That's not a question. You know what happens." "the other problem you have is that when you feel threatened you shut down. The two people who should have loved you the most treated you like a disappointment when you were young. Then when you were older and needed their support they attacked you and tried to distance your son from you. There is no way that you don't have some underlying trust issues. The minute you feel hurt, you take that as an attack, and since you are a "fighter" you strike back." I completely understood. So we talked for a while about Maria. Our relationship. Our conversation about Maria lasted the better half of three months. I told my therapist about my calm and storm theory. She agreed. The biggest problem within my relationship with Maria was that we exsisted separately. I loved her , but we were never a partnership. I knew about her family, she knew nothing of mine. She knew we weren't close but there was no explanation. I never shared anything. I worked. I provided, but that was about it. But my chaos constantly infected our relationship like a plague. If I didn't get my way, I withdrew. If I didn't feel I was winning an arguement I went in for the kill and insulted her family. I wasn't about to lose. And at the end of the day I would smile and say I was a good husband. I mean I provided for her right? The problem was that as the years passed I created an adversary not a partner. It should have been no surprise to me that when we got divorced she acted like an adversay and went in for the kill. The crazy thing was that as we separated I realized how emotionally dependent on Maria I was. To this day I will always say that I couldn't do what I do if it wasn't for Maria. She gave me the courage and support to do this when others said I was stupid and throwing my life away(yep you got it, my parents). So how do you stop this. The first thing I had to do was not be ashamed of where I came from. I had to come clean and be honest. My next partner would need to know everything. I knew that this could potentially make people run for the hills, but in retrospect I would rather have someone love all of me and not just the edited version. I also had to embrace and understand the pain that was caused. When I truly embraced and acknowledged this pain I knew that I would in turn never do this to Tommy. It was a sobering experience. For months My therapist and I went back in forth. I didn't want to be like my parents. I was scared of my parents. I hated school. I wanted to try nothing new around them because I knew if I never tried anything, I would fail at nothing' and If I never failed, I would never be ridiculed. That is horrible lonely exsistence. Something amazing happened along the way. I began to like myself.......just a little bit.

coming clean

Those 2 days dragged on. I made my list. It was actually quite long. I called Maria several times but was met with a "click." I still was trying to navigate my way around the "boundaries" I went by Barnes and Nobles for books about divorce and being abused as a child. While there were tons of books about abuse and divorce, I found that they all followed a curious pattern. Nearly all books about divorce were geared towards women. Most books about abuse talked about overcoming it for yourself , not about how it could possibly affect your marriage and parenting. The two books that did were written by women for women. I did gravitate to one book. "A boy called it" This book touched my heart so much. I got online and read more about this persons ordeal. My abuse was nothing compared to what this mans was. He endured horrible physical abuse for years. In the aftermath it was obvious he was still scarred. He was a parent now, but not surprisingly his marriage ended in divorce. I realized three things during those 2 days waiting for my next appointment. First thing , my therapist was right. I didn't love myself. In fact I didn't really know how to love. My concept was to praise during the good times and remove love during the bad times. Second , I truly believe men don't have much support during a divorce. It is unacceptable for us to fall apart. Yet , when we don't , we are labeled as having no heart. The truth is, divorce is horrible for both sides. There were days I would wake up with so much pain in my soul. I didn't want to go to work. Third, while many people talk about getting passed abuse, very few talked about how abuse can severely damage every intimate relationship you have from that day forward. I showed up at my next appointment with a little better perspective. One thing I did request. "could you call me Tom?" My therapist nodded and went over my list. She was actually surprised that I made my list. But I was serious. We talked for hours about my fears as a man. My fears as a father.I slowly uncovered more about my childhood. To describe my relationship with my mother I would often touch my knuckles together to symbolize that we always butted heads. We just didn't get along. I always felt she antagonized me. I'm sure some of that had to do with being called stupid all the time. My therapist went on to ask what kind of home my mother grew up in. My mother was the oldest of 3 kids. My uncle Bill was the youngest. My aunt had died 3 years ago from renal cancer. My mother for the most part was the overachiever. However I always got the impression that she felt her parents loved my Aunt Dawn more. My uncle was constantly being propped up on a pedestal and helped. My mother got no such praise or help. I somehow always felt that she was trying to prove herself to her parents. She married the smart PhD from Cornell. Moved out. Became a teacher and then a nurse. "You know much of the anger that your mother projects on to you is a direct relation to the inadequacies she feels about her own life? You get that right? Her brother needed constant support. Her sister got constant praise. She longed for that love but never received as much as she probably needed. You got all of the backlash. You represented her bother and sister all rolled into one. At the same time she expected you to try as hard as she did. When you didn't, she punished you by taking away love and scaring you in to submission." This was much more than I expected. I still didn't understand completely. My father was an entirely different story. I've often heard my father referred to as "Saint Joe". He was an exceptional young man. Near perfect grades. Student body president, valedictorian, Captain of the football team, and from what I understand a good looking guy. My Father was the youngest of 4. His brother Kenny died when he was very young and that left my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Bob. My dad was the perfect kid. Both my aunt and uncle have relayed to me that my dad never did anything wrong. He gave to charities. He helped underprivileged kids. He had a dream, after watching a documentary about children starving in third world countries, that he would get his PhD in Plant pathology and help cure these countries crops so that they could flourish and in turn feed more people. And that is exactly what he did. So the anger... I just didn't get. I always considered my dad successful. He was my hero. Until he got angry of course. Then I was scared. "Did your mom and dad ever fight Tom?" They really didn't . My mom constantly criticized him. She did call him stupid a great deal. There were times when my dad would request my mother not to purchase something and she would do it anyway. She spent a great deal of money on hoarding. We had 3 refridgerators and 1 freezer filled with food. There were things in there from 3 years past. My mother refused to get rid of anything. Our garage looked like the pantry to a soup kitchen. I once counted 50 bags of pasta and 100 cans of soup. And then there was the cereal boxes. at least 20. Stacks and stacks of Tupperware. You've got to remember I'm an only child. It was the three of us. And when I left it was the two of them and the problem didn't get any better. My mother just kind of did what she wanted. Unchecked. She would yell at my dad, and he would just nod his head and walk away. Defeated. "So your mothers abuse wasn't exclusive to you . Your father endured it as well? I nodded"Did you ever tell your dad she locked you in the closet?" No. "And he never came to save you?" No. "let me explain something about abuse. It's not exclusive to children. Husbands beat their wives. Women verbally and physically abuse their husbands and everyone takes it out on the kids whether its directly or indirectly. Your mother physically and psychologically abused you terribly. She also abused your father. Your father in turn took his anger out on you. That was why he was inconsistent with his discipline. You probably walked in at the tale end of your mom ripping into him. He wasn't about to hit her,but he could get a sense of that manhood, dominance, and control back by hitting and scaring you. Neither is right." For the second time in two sessions I started to cry. "Why didn't he help me? I was just a little boy." Sensing me breaking my therapist sat next to me lifted my chin. Look directly in to my eyes. "You are not them. OK . We are going to get you better. Just remember you are not them. You aren't even related to them." I gathered myself . It wasn't easy. You hear about people crying during therapy and I always thought it was silly. I mean why can't you just figure it out on your own? That notion seems so uneducated now. " OK I'm going to leave you with a thought and some homework she said. First of all everyone responds to abuse differently. Some cower and are never the same again. They become very fragile shells. Some in turn abuse others. Be it their spouses or children. And still others fight back. They don't give in. They stand up to the pain. Which one are you? I think I already know. But I need to know what you think. Think about it. Also next week, we need to talk about Maria OK?" I nodded. "Oh and Tom? The fighters to abuse have their own bunch of problems. They internalize and self destruct. Not so good. See you next week." She's killing me.

Out of the closet

I always hated the notion of therapy. I mean seriously, can't you just figure it out by yourself? When I was 16 my parents sent me to a therapist. I was angry according to them. I sat in that therapsit office and listened to my mother and father tell the therapist how horrible it was to be in the same home as me. Does he do drugs? No. Does he drink ? No.Is he in trouble with the law? No. Does he get into fights at school? No. He's just so angry! Well, I'm not going to lie I was a little annoyed. Maybe it was because at a young age I was called stupid. Maybe it was because at a young age (11 and then at13 )to be exact my mother left my father and I. Maybe it was because when my dad got angry he would knock me across a room. It was all there in my head. I just never said a word. I wanted out of there. So I sat for weeks while I listened to my parents speak of how living in a home with me was torture. I guess this unwillingness to engage is what gave me my dissasociative disorder label. For those who don't know , whenever there is contested child custody, the courts usual response is to leave the child with the mother and order both parents to partake in counseling. So for a year I rarely got to see my son for extended periods of time. I did go see him everyday for lunch at daycare but that was it. When I started counseling my mood was at an all time low. I had very little strength . My normal deffiant guard was low and I just gave in. My therapist sat down with me. She had read my file. She had read the court documents. "Mr Krausz, how were you disciplined growing up? I mean, I understand restriction. I understand taking away priveledges, what I'm getting at is what methods did your parents use that most significantly standout in your mind." I described a time that my mother had gotten mad at me for playing in the kitchen while she was on the phone. She got off the phone looked at me and yelled"damn you to hell Tommy." she than grabbed my arm and dragged me into the coat clost in her bedroom. The lights went off and the door was locked. I remember screaming. I remember crying. I remember wetting my pants. I think I finally fell asleep. My next memory is being put in a cold shower to clean off my mess, all the while my mother chastised me for making a mess. When I was done with my story I looked up. My therapist looked at me with complete disbelief. "Ok. You do realize thats pretty bad right?" I shrugged my shoulders said "yeah I guess. I've never realy thought about it" "And your father? Or was this your mothers domain. The discipline that is." It was always hit and miss with my dad I told her. I could break a window and he would just chuckle and we both would fix it. Or sometimes he would make me do chores. The funny thing was that when he has angry it was scary. He never cursed. He would grab me by the hair and drag me. He would slap me on my head. Sometimes he pushed my head against the door of the car if I was in the seat next to him. It was never consistant though. Sometimes he would just rage. He would explode out of nowhere. If I was with friends he would make sure to humiliate me. I never understood it. His anger seemed like it came out of left field. And of course there was names. When I was 8 I accidently filled out the wrong answer sheet on a stadardized test. It was so obvious. My father when he initially saw the score said "a monkey could have done better. You're as dumb as a monkey." I endured that for about 3 weeks. "So Mr. Krausz, you do realize that this is highly abusive correct?" "yeah I guess." I said. "I mean I was never hit with a belt and I was given a alot of opportunity." "Well that sounds like a response that has been drilled into your head." was her response We talked for a good 2 hours that first day. The more I uncovered the more she made me pause and take another look at it. I was raised to be grateful for everything I got. I was always told that I was loved but at the same time I was told I wasn't smart . If I suceeded at sports or school it was high praise. Presents and accolades . When I failed I was a loser. I never should have been adopted. I was going to amount to nothing, and my favorite, you're stupid. My therapist sent me home that day with a to do list. List every quality about yourself that you like. Use as much paper as you'd like. Expand on your list as well. I paused. I looked at her with tears in my eyes. "You don't love yourself Mr. Krausz. You don't even like yourself. You've never been shown true unconditional love. We need to get your mind back on track so that doesn't happen to your son. Take that paper and list why you don't love yourself. I'll see you in 2 days."

Torn apart

The details of our divorce could be written about for ever. Lets just put it this way. We beat eachother up pretty badly. No punch was pulled. No resource was left untapped, and unfortunately no close friend was left unscathed. We put our families through a living hell. Our closest friends Jimmy and Tanya had to pick between us. Jimmy testified for me, Tanya for Maria. Now nearly 7 years later I feel very ashamed for what we put them through. We had known Jimmy and Tanya since we were in high school. I was the best man in their wedding and Jimmy was the best man in mine. While our lives took us to different cities and states we often met for dinners and vacations. They were our most trusted friends. I never had brothers and sisters , so my realtionship with Jimmy and Tanya was very sibling oriented. When they found out about us splitting up they were very upset and like most, hoped we'd get back together. As the months wore on it bacame more and more painfully obvious that it just wasn't going to happen. In the end Tanya identified a little more with Maria and Jimmy a little more with me. Our families were a different story. Marias family was and still is very supportive of me as a person. They were obviously there for Maria, but they could tell the pain I was going through as well. They sympathized. Before I explain my family maybe I need a little background. I was adopted when I was 2 years old from an orphanage in Colombia South America. My adoptive parents were scholars. Both college graduates. My father got his Phd from Cornell. While traveling in Colombia they happened upon an orphanage. I was the 3 crib on the left. I sat up and said "papa". They knew right away they wanted to adpot me. Back than adoption wasn't the big business it is now. There was no internet and no real set rules about bringing a child back froma third world country. Through translators and bribes they were able to adopt me legally in Colombia. The difficulty remained in bringing me back to the United States. They obtained a 1 day visitors visa for me and waited until they had one day left on their visa to travel back to the US. At customs they were informed about problems with what they had done. Certain they would have to give back the child, my parents waited for a local INS agent to show up at their house. As luck or fate would have it, The INS agent was an old college friend of my fathers. Papers were signed, red tape was cut, and my parents were told to have me naturalized by the time I was 4. I was always raised knowing I was adopted. There was no way to hide it. My parents were well......white. I was obviously ethnic. At a young age I was told "we chose you". I realize now that my adoptive parents hoped to raise a young scholar. It made sense. They saved a young baby from what was a certain life of dispair and gave that child love and opportunity. I would be molded. For the most part I thought I had a very normal upbringing. Both parents worked and I was sent to private schools so I could get the best education. The differences in our personalities was evident at a young age. Maria was the first girl I ever brought home. From the beginning my parents fell in love with her. She was smart, driven, and wanted a better life for herself. She was everthing I wasn't. Maria would have flourished in my home. She would have loved the individual attention and private eduacation I had recieved, and it was made clear to me that she would have done so much more with it than I had. It came as no surprise that my parents took Marias side in the divorce. She was the daughter the never had. Or as my mother testified on the stand "the child they should have had." During our divorce my parents testified that Tommy was better off with no father in his life than having me as his father. I was a danger to his life. They both testified that I had always been a "bad seed". I was an embarassment to them. They knew when I was a baby that they had made a mistake. I had a disassociative disorder. I was possibly even a sociopath. All this according to my adoptive parents who as I stated earlier "chose me." When the judge in our court hearing went back to her chambers to make her decision I stood up and begged. "please don't take my little boy away. Please don't let him grow up without a daddy." I was so scared. I waited. what I didn't know was that our judge was adopted and she had 2 adopted children. what came next was nothing short of a miracle. Joint custody. Joint conservatorship. Maria couldn't move and my adoptive parents had a restriciton put on their acess to my son. They were not allowed to be alone with him. Ever. Tommy was comming home. I was elated. I was scared. I was still very torn apart and raw from the divorce. The healing process , I would learn, would take sometime. With that came a bit of discovery and realization about how I was raised and how I was treated growing up. It would become a gamechanger so to speak. My life , soul, and spirit would never be the same.

The Impending Storm

I've heard so many times that having a baby can bring you together. In the beginning that is very true. Maria and I both dug in deep. A bond was formed through lack of sleep, the smell of desitin, and constant worry. That bond couldn't hide some of our underlying issues.

We were from different backgrounds. Different trains of thought. And while we both loved eachother very much we never healed our own personal wounds prior to Tommy comming along. Maria and I never lived together prior to getting married, and when we did move in together I was never around much due to millitary life. I spent every third night away from home and was deployed for 6 month stretches. To this day I don't know how she did it. I still have so much guilt in my heart about her dropping everything to follow me hundreds of miles away from her family. While I was miserable when I left to go on deployment, I still had this motley crew of sailors around me. Maria was in a new state with no family around on her own. Alone. I know many people would and have said "It's a choice to follow your spouse, don't feel guilty." Maybe guilt isn't the correct word. I acknowledge the sacrifice Maria made to put her dreams on hold to follow me. I acknowledge the sense of lonliness she must have felt as I left. And I admire and respect the courage it must have taken to endure that.

Our move back home to Texas should have meant we now had a chance to rediscover our love for eachother. For me, I was a changed man. I now had a sense of purpose and drive. I looked to Maria to be that motivated rock upon which I leaned and pushed off of. Maria however wanted to start a family. SHe became closer to her mother and wanted to start her own large family. I was consumed with sucess. I found that our goals for our immediate future didn't quite line up. The distance grew.

I've heard the term"fighting fair." in the past, but never realy knew what that meant until later. Neither Maria nor I fought very fair. We went for the jugular. The soft spot. We knew how to hurt eachother. When we fought we sometimes didn't talk for days. It was unhealthy. I started avoiding home. I took Tommy to work with me during the day, Got off around 2pm and then waited for Maria to be home by 5:30. I handed Tommy off and went back to work. I finally walked in around 9:30. I ate and went directly into "dad mode." We never talked In hindsight I was becoming a better father everyday while I was failing as a husband. As the months pressed on I realized all we were doing was fighting. I think on many levels we avoided eachother. One week after a 3 day stint of not talking, I sent her an email. "We need to talk."

That talk led us down a very dark path. I didn't want to do this anymore. Maria wasn't in love with me anymore. We both felt short changed in the relationship. I didn't follow through on my promises to her. I didn't live up to my end of the bargain. Maria just simply wasn't at my level anymore. Or so I thought. I had become very competitive in my job and somehow I felt I wanted someone as driven as I was. Sadly, we both used Tommy as a bargaining chip as well as an instrument with which to hurt the other.

It was at this point where I wish someone would have stopped me. Told me to go home. Told me once you set this ball in motion there is no turning back. I'm not saying that we would be together right now, but I bet we could have sidestepped the storm we were both heading into.

People get divorced for a million different reasons these days. Most never should have gotten married in the first place. We base our attraction on the physical never on the mental. She's beautiful. He's hot. She can cook. He's rich. But as time passes you realize that looks fade,recipes change, and you can always make more money. So what are you left with? Eachother. Can you.....or should I say ,do you want to sit on a couch next to this person for the rest of your life? If you do, you better realize that means enduring life, and all it's changes together. Making a commitment to having eachothers back from this day forward. It means that if I lose my hair and you never lose your pregancy weight our hearts won't stray. It means if I can't afford to buy a new car and you never learn how to not burn toast , we don't look to see if the grass is greener. It means building eachother up.

I failed miserably at this. Back to that whole"I want" thing. When we separated I realized what I wanted most was what I had already gotten. I had married my best friend. We had a beautiful baby. I didn't need anything else. But I continued to want.

The Best Day Ever

Maria and I had just spent the last 4 years 9 months and 3 days surviving millitary enlistment. I joined when I was 21 because I was literaly just throwing my life away. I was dropping out of college and had no grip on what I wanted to do with my life. One thing was certain, my fiance Maria was about to graduate from college and I was certain to drag her down with me.I needed a change. I needed motivation. So like many young men before me I got my life back on track by joining the millitary. It was peace time when I joined ,so the threat of war was not an issue. I still joined with the lofty goal of being a Navy Seal. Anyone who knew me personally, knew that while I was all attitude, The body of a Navy SEAL was not something I possessed. From the start of boot camp I was mercilously harassed for my lack of conditioning. Never the one to back away from a challenge I worked out harder. While I never made it through the SEAL program I did become a gunners mate, and an Explosive Ordinace Desposal (EOD) operative. While in the the military I recieved a degree and finally seemd to be on a productive carreer path. After 4 years 9 months and 3 days of enlisted life we moved to Austin to start a life together. We were highschool sweethearts. We had met in Bryan,Tx when I was a junior and she was senior. She was the driven one. Good grades. member of the student council. I was .....well ...not. I had dyed hair, the remenance of a mohawk, and I would come to realize later in life, a very wounded soul. Maria made me want to be a better man. She made me want to study. To try harder. We both came from strict families. I was an adopted only child and she was one of six. Both my parent were scholars. Maria was the first person in her family to attend and complete college. So here we were both in our mid 20's and starting a life in Austin,Tx. I think we had been in Austin about a year when I realized something was wrong. We were ....missing eachother. Have you ever gone to give someone a high five and you just miss their hand? Well that was us. Over and over again. We just couldn't connect. I was obsessed with work. I wanted to be the best personal trainer in Austin. Hands down. I was doing something I loved(and still do) and I wanted to be sucessful. I wanted to write books about fitness(still do).When asked about my life the common phrase you would hear from my mouth was"I want" . That "wanting" led me down a path of constant work,parties for clients, dinners with clients, and essentially energy spent on my clients. When I came home I wanted my wife to tell me how great I was. I mean afterall this was all for her right? Wrong. We never communicated. We talked about divorce and than one night as I was about to teach class, I got a message on my phone. Crying I could hear Maria say"Tom, I just took a pregnancy test and I'm pregnant. I just wanted to let you know." I was stunned. I was never a "baby" guy . I was an only child and just a little spoiled when it came to getting what I wanted. The one thing I realized soon was that becomming a parent truly changes you whole life. Our issues got put on a back burner and we prepared for our baby. In hindsight this should have been the time that we got counseling to learn how to communicate. I hear about so many families that think having a child will solve all their problems. Wha I have found out over the years is that , if anything, it magnifies many of the problems, and can leave you staring across the dinner table with a reat deal of resentment and regret. Tommy was born December 6th 2001. It stands today as the best day ever. For a day everything was perfect. I was so filled with love. Love for my beautiful wife. Love for my beautiful little boy. Tommy was born with a full head of hair and natural sweet disposition. I couldn't stop holding him. To this day I get very emotional when I hug my son. I know, I know I'm a little sappy. I wanted to do it all.Change diapers, pick out his clothes,bath him, play with him,feed him, and hold him in my arms while he slept. I was fortunate to have daycare at my gym while I worked. He came with me. Carseat ,diaper bag, and 3 bottles of breast milk. I was a dad with a plan. I still worked too much, but hey now I had a purpose. Tommy was the love of my life. He was the reason why I worked so much. He was my everything. However , as I found out later , if he was my everything what was my wife? I've seen this happen so much in families with new babies. The baby becomes the new focus and in many ways the relationship between the parents gets put to the side. Ironically , it's the relationship between the parents that offers the most support to the child. It offers them a sense of stability and security. Our relationship was put on the back burner and it didn't take long for trouble to ensue .

From the top

I started writing about my son a few months before he was born. In the beginning it was just small journal entries. How I noticed his moms belly getting bigger. Each doctors appointment. Each kick. I made a decision after he was born to write a little everyday. One day I wanted him to read how much he meant to me. How I watched every little change in his appearance and demeanor. It was amazing. Still is. When Tommy was 2 and a half his mom(my wife) and I went through a horrible divorce. It was ugly. A custody battle ensued. We have both come out on the other end of it, much better people. I'd like to think we are friends now. During our divorce I uncovered a great deal about how I was raised by my adoptive parents. I have never been one to complain about anything so this book wasn't intended to throw stones at anyone other than myself. I think I have grown a great deal in the past 7 years since our divorce and one of the things I realized is that in todays age of self help books , brochures, tapes, and TV shows , none really adressed men. We as men have a hard time taking advice , and more often than not , you'll never catch any of us dead reading a self help book. I wanted this to be simple and to the point. I hope there is humor, humilliation, and little direction in this book. We as men need a little of all three.