E-mails with D: Am I a child abuser?

The next thread -- this is the third -- in this prolonged exchange with D is particularly difficult and painful. Over the years -- very rarely, but with increasing frequency in, say, the last half dozen years -- Wife has alleged that I am physically dangerous to be around, and that she is afraid for herself or the children.

This is bullshit.

More precisely, I can't say for sure whether she is afraid. But I can guarantee that the children aren't, and that no rational observer would be. That she makes this claim to her friends, pillaging my good name in the process, is terribly painful. And of course, especially with the stories one hears these days, I can't help but wonder what happens if she one day drags me into court and produces these friends as (second-hand) "witnesses" to the atrocities I am supposed to have performed?

Most of the dialog speaks for itself. I need to add only a couple of points of background information. The first is that D works as a teacher -- and has most of her career -- but for five years she worked as a court-appointed Guardian ad litem. (See also the discussion here.) This gave her a way closer view of the effects of prolonged abuse on children (and in some cases spouses, usually wives) than she had ever wanted.

The second point of background information is that there was a time several years ago (while I was out of work) when D's teenage son came to visit with us for a week or so. Wife had been trying to tutor him in Latin long-distance, and they both decided it would work better if he would show up in person. Well, he did not fit into the family at all. He spent long hours away -- God knows where -- with Wife, allegedly walking through city parks, talking. When he was physically present in our house, he made a point of not integrating into our routines: he wouldn't get up when the rest of us got up, he stayed in his pajamas until the end of the day, he didn't adapt himself into the rhythm of the household in any way. This was irritating and I know I expressed that irritation. (Wife complained to me about it, but would never dream of speaking a word to him.) Then he left to go back home, and as near as I can tell he spent a long time after his return complaining about what a jerk I was. So that is D's one other data point about what to expect from me, besides what she hears from Wife and her own (very limited) observation.

Anyway, this blog wasn't designed to make me look good, so away we go. As usual, my words are in green and hers are in blue.

D: Dear [Hosea],

I need to talk to you after a very difficult (for me) conversation with [Wife] concerning allegations of long term physical abuse of both her and your children. [Wife] also indicated that you suffer from severe depression and are taking Wellbutrin-at high doses-to remain non-violent. These are serious allegations, and so damaging that if they are accurate, I must question your honesty and commitment to the truth, whatever you might say to the contrary. I am quite willing and able to deal with mental illness, but there is a subtle shift in the way I will filter information and evaluate certain claims, particularly when what might be shared could potentially upset you and cause you to act violently towards your wife.

[Hosea], I have known you for nineteen years. In all that time, I have personally known only kindness and clear, lucid intelligence. For the friendship and love you have offered, I owe you a profound debt of gratitude and honor. You have that claim on me. But if you attempt to deceive me, or act in ways you know I find abhorrent, you will destroy our relationship. I will walk away from you, and I will deny all that you have represented for me. I cannot afford that, whatever you might think; the possibility is deeply wounding and denies all that is good and gracious. This time, the pain is all mine.

I have to go back to school and tutor for at least another hour. You may, of course, write, or you may wish to call. Sometimes it helps to hear the music within a voice; ideas and complex matters are a bit clearer using the phone; emotional distance is more difficult. That's also a danger, but my emotions, unfortunately, are already engaged. I need some clarity, and I've earned some honesty.

Take care, Godspeed, and even now... love,
[D]

Hosea: Dear [D],

I just now left a message on your voice mail. Yes, I guess we need to talk. But let me tell you without hesitation that I categorically deny any physical abuse of either [Wife] or the children. If [Wife] says these things, I don't know what I can say on my side because I don't have a time machine in which you could travel backwards to see for yourself. Therefore I have to accept the possibility that [Wife] could, by saying these things, put an undeserved end to the friendship between you and me. If that happens, I would grieve, both for losing such a friend and because the loss was occasioned by lies. But I don't know what I can say to stop that from happening.

It is true that I take wellbutrin, but not for violence. The presenting symptoms when it was prescribed were rather lethargy and an inchoate despair. Not violence. Wellbutrin acts for me the way coffee acts for some people; it gives me the energy to get up and do things. This is not something that I discuss with others, but I am telling you because you are quite right -- you HAVE earned honesty.

[Wife] has said these things before, with varying levels of elaboration. Sometimes she makes only vague or veiled accusations. Sometimes she invents scenes that absolutely did not happen. Most often she will start with an event that did happen and then change it in a small number of very critical ways to make it far more menacing than it was in reality. I do not know whether these changes are conscious. And I suppose that in the absence of unbiased witnesses she could claim that I'm the one who remembers or reports the events wrong.

Do you want ugly truths? Here are the ugly things about me that are true, which [Wife] has inflated into worse than they were.

1. I used to shout more than I do now, when I got angry. I have a very loud voice. [Wife] has often said that she finds my shouts threatening. Sometimes I have pounded on the table for emphasis.

2. I used to get angry more often than I do now, and more easily. It is hard for me to tell when the change happened, and it might be at least PARTLY the influence of the wellbutrin. But another VERY BIG part of it is that I have learned over the years where some of my triggers are; so instead of just finding myself all of a sudden angry, I can tell when it is building up and head it off. One of these triggers is being misunderstood or falsely accused. Another big one has to do with noises, especially harsh or repetitive noises. It used to be that I would hear a harsh and repetitive noise and not even realize how crazy it was making me until I was suddenly very angry. Now I can tell that it is starting to grate on me, and I can try to stop the noise or else remove myself. In any event, I did not understand these triggers at all well when we were married, so my anger was a lot less predictable. All I can plead in my own defense is immaturity.

3. I have never struck [Wife]. Sometimes when we were arguing about something and she was going to leave rather than stay and argue, I have stood in the doorway. Once in [another city where we lived long ago] we were joking and hamming it up, and a friend snapped a photo of us mock-boxing while I held a kitchen knife. It is a very funny photo, and you are welcome to see it if you like. This is the only time I have pointed a knife in the direction of [Wife]. But that has not stopped her from claiming since then that I have threatened her at knife-point. It is not true.

4. We -- that means both of us -- used to spank the children as a form of discipline. We do so no longer. It would not be a surprise to me if I spanked harder than she did, because my muscles are stronger. But we both used that as a disciplinary technique when they were very young. I will give [Wife] credit for making the decision that they were old enough we needed to stop; and I will also give her credit for coming up with alternative forms of discipline. At the time I even agreed with her that it pained me immeasurably to spank them, but I didn't know what other tool or method we ought to use instead. I asked her to think of something, and she did. Once she thought of an alternative, I gratefully and enthusiastically adopted it. There have been a few times since then when other disciplinary methods have not worked and I have concluded that only spanking would make the point. When that happens today, I never make the decision unilaterally but always consult with [Wife]; moreover, mindful of the fact that my muscles are stronger than hers, my method whenever this happens is that I will hold the child and [Wife] administers the spanking. I don't strike anyone.

5. Is there more and worse and uglier? I can't remember anything worse right now. I know that I used to get a lot angrier than I get today, and while the points above certainly -- and on oath -- cover 99.999% of all the times I ever got angry, I cannot guarantee that I might not have expressed my anger some other way that last 0.001% of the time. If I ever did, we can at most be talking about two or three moments in 25 years; and I would be more than confident in setting my record of tantrums against [Wife]'s. (I have not itemized those for you because you have not asked.) I can also add confidently that I don't get angry like that any more. I do not believe that any objective observer would think anyone had anything to fear from me. I will guarantee that if you ask either boy -- in private, where he knows I cannot hear the answer and where he cannot be coached by anybody else in either direction -- whether he is afraid of me, both boys will say categorically No.

[D], I feel very helpless here. I will swear that what I have said above it the truth, and I will concede that it does not make me out to be a saint. I never claimed to be a saint. But I absolutely cannot accept the allegation of longterm physical abuse. That is a lie. It is not a new lie, but I have kept my mouth shut before ... thinking it did less harm to keep my mouth shut. I have let [Wife] tell her friends lies about me rather than to stand up for myself, and I have hoped that either (1) it would make no difference because they were far away, or (2) if they were nearby they could form their own opinions of me from first-hand observation, and so would take [Wife]'s stories with salt.

I don't know how this e-mail sounds to you. Maybe I have said all the wrong things and made it worse. Maybe I will have lost you as a friend, unjust and false though such a loss would be. I pray not.

At this point, I reached her by phone. She had not yet read my e-mail (immediately above) and she read it while we talked. She made a point of saying that she could go ask her son what I was like when he stayed at our house, and that she would be sure to believe him because he was her son. I said fine, go ahead. I knew that her son disliked me intensely, but I had no idea whether he could be trusted to limit what he said to what he saw. But whatever.

Anyway, partway through the phone call, D went silent for a very long time. Then she said she had suddenly come to see everything in a very different light. She needed to think about it, but she would e-mail me yet today (this was Thursday) and could I please make sure to reply to her e-mail no matter how late it was? Of course I said yes.

When her follow-on e-mail finally arrived, it ran like this:

D: Dearest [Hosea],

To be honest, I have no desire to re-open our discussion this afternoon which was so painful and difficult for you. I only do so because we have reached a place where I should answer the unspoken questions before us. Plus I *do* owe you a profound debt of honor...and I never meant for you to be scared or doubt my steadfastness.

[Hosea], I called you to try and help us understand and discuss what was said and what happened in the past. I was prepared to be hurt and I got hurt, but I don't change minute to minute. I don't change in essentials at all. I remain your friend, your support and the person who loves you. It seems like I spend a good deal of time trying to understand your marriage and I'm pretty sure that there's nothing rewarding at the end of that quest. Reflecting, I am reminded that I am older than either you or [Wife], and, because of my own childhood experiences, I sought, and struggled to develop, the kind of maturity it takes to put other people's interests before my own. That maturity is what has allowed [Wife] and I to stay friends for so many years; I listen well and I care well. I'm also collaborative by nature; I don't issue ultimatums, and I don't make decisions unilaterally....

I am willing to make almost any sacrifice for you, but it is helpful to know what exactly is demanded. You should have told me about your depression and despair. My guess is my son, so like me, picked up your sadness and loneliness easily when he stayed with you. This afternoon, I saw a level of helplessness and and despair in you that remade the entire situation. It is not that I haven't read and re-read your letter. I believe who you say you are. I also, after today, know who you think you are. [Hosea], I will give you to [Wife], but not to despair. I'm not asking you to put me first, but I will say a third time, that the gift of my friendship and love should not be beyond you to accept.

My prayer? Let us be ourselves.

All my love,
[D]

I took this more or less as acquittal, and I replied as follows:

Hosea: Dear [D],

Thank you. Very much.

This was a very difficult afternoon. And honestly, it has been a very difficult week. I have been surprised and startled enough this week that when I read your letter early this afternoon I have to confess I had no idea -- despite your many reassurances up till now -- what to expect.

"Surprised and startled"? Whatever for?

[There followed a long digression which will make part of a later post -- not this one.]

Anyway, that's what made the week so difficult. As for the letter itself -- I mean [Wife]'s accusations -- my God, what do I say? I've already told you that they are not news to me, and that they are also not true. I thought I had hardened myself against them, so that I could hear these calumnies hurled against my good name and not react. But of course, none of [Wife]'s other friends (not one!) has ever asked me about them directly; and none of her other friends has ever had the kind of professional experience that makes these accusations come alive for them. And maybe I cared more about your good opinion than about the opinions of her other friends ... because I care more about you than about them. Lastly -- least important but still a factor -- I have heard horror stories about accusations of exactly this kind being made falsely and destroying the men they were made against. I don't know if any of these horror stories is true, or if they are all propaganda, but I've heard them. And some of these stories make it sound like this is a tough generation in which to be a father. Again, maybe they aren't true ... but when you are walking alone in dark woods without a flashlight, you are more likely to believe in scary fairy tales than when you are warm and comfortable by your own hearth.

All of this combined to make me feel like the floor had dropped out from under me. All I could cling to for hope was my knowledge of your fundamental goodness ... which means that I trusted that if I was careful to tell you the exact truth, no matter how unflattering, you would be able to tell it was true. I wish I could tell you that was enough by itself to put the floor back under me. It wasn't, but it gave me a thread to cling to, and I clung to it as hard as I could.

Your e-mail [reprinted above] has rebuilt the floor under my feet. And so I repeat .... Thank you. Very much.

I hardly know how to go on; it is late and I am very tired. But there are a couple of very specific things you say that I feel I must comment on.

You may be right about what [your son] perceived. But I think you must know only a tiny bit of what that time was like. If there was despair and depression on my side, there was despair and rage on [Wife]'s. I think she came closer to leaving me then, than she ever has before or since. I thank God that she didn't -- not only on my own account but on hers, because I think it would have been catastrophic to her life and way of life by any objective measure. But she spent so much of that 18 months in a blind rage born of panic and deep, desperate terror, that if [your son] had any emotional sensitivity at all he could not help but have sensed it. Add to that the long, long hours they spent together -- hours when they were alone where nobody else was around -- and I am sure she probably said many things to him that grew out of that soup of terror and rage. He would have to have the insensibility of stone not to have perceived and absorbed and internalized gallons of that stew. If there is ever a time when you want to know more about that period in our lives, then ask and I will tell you; but I won't discuss it unless you ask. [... And so on.]