How not to run away from home

 The other day I saw an article in the Atlantic about a woman named Toby who decided to run away from her life. She was volunteering inside a prison and fell in love with one of the inmates. As they talked together, they began sketching what it would look like to run away together. The fantasy grew and grew, becoming more real and more compelling each time they talked. And so one day she put their plans into action. She left behind her husband and her kids, packed her inmate boyfriend into a dog crate, and drove away with him.

Of course they got caught. (Otherwise there wouldn't be an article about them.) Almost two weeks after their great escape they were trapped by a police barricade on the highway. She went to jail. He went back to jail, with an extra ten years added to his sentence. Now she gives talks about transformation and redemption. She tells her story and works to inspire other women. She has a website. I think this is what penance looks like today. 

Joking aside, though, the story reminded me powerfully of Wife, and especially of her romance with Boyfriend 5. As long as I knew her, Wife always had dreams of escape, of flight, of running away from whatever her life looked like at the time, of getting into her car and driving blindly as fast as she could until she was Far Away and could pretend to be Somebody Else. That was always what freedom looked like to her.

And Boyfriend 5? (Who claimed to be a terrorist abroad and turned out to be a lonely woman here in the USA?) What did Wife get from him (her)? Time. Attention. And endless sympathy. Also flattery. Also B5 described many (fictional) problems in his own life, on which Wife could offer advice to help. So B5 made her feel seen, and appreciated, and needed. And that's very much like what Toby describes, in recounting the steps that led her to run away with her felon boyfriend. The article says, "But now she felt someone notice her. She felt someone recognize that she had needs." It can be intoxicating -- obviously, given what Toby did next.

So does that explain Wife's infatuation with Boyfriend 5? I think so. I think she felt the same kind of neglect Toby felt, and responded just as overwhelmingly to the same attentions. It makes sense.

This doesn't mean that I take on myself all the responsibility for Wife's emotional affair with Boyfriend 5. Like in my post last night (but in mirror image), they were her actions and so she is responsible for them. And the story of how we got there in the first place -- how we got to the place where she felt so alone and so neglected and was therefore ready to snap at B5's bait -- is a long and tangled one with plenty of fault on both sides. To understand all is not to forgive all, and I can say I understand it without making her a spotlessly innocent victim.

But I do think I understand (at least a part of) how the whole thing looked to her, and why she could be so intoxicated that she couldn't see any of the rest of the world. And Toby's story sounded very familiar to me as I read it.

Familiar. And compelling. And sad. For Toby's sake, I'm glad she has come through on the other side. I wonder if Wife ever has ...?

         

Unhappy hour

I've written before about feeling low-level anxiety and treating it with alcohol. (I don't remember quite where, and I don't feel like hunting just at the moment, so I won't provide a link. I trust you to find such posts pretty easily if you want to.) But I've been drinking a lot less the last month or so, and in the process I've noticed more about it.

Maybe I should explain what I mean by "drinking less." Basically I was finding that once I started drinking at night I couldn't stop until I'd had enough that I really didn't feel good. And I was sure feeling it the next day. So when I finished what was in the apartment, I just didn't replace it. I'm not fanatical about it -- once a week I'll go out for a beer with coworkers at the end of the week, or last week (when I didn't do that) I brought home one of those revolting little cardboard boxes with 500 ml of cheap wine in it. But I've kept it to once a week, and even if I am bringing a drink home I make sure not to bring more than I'm willing to consume all at once. I don't buy a bottle of anything with the idea of stretching it out, because that way I can't decide to drink most of it tonight. (Also I realize I'm a little superstitious that by saying something here I will bring the whole exercise to a crashing halt. I'll try to avoid that.)

I've noticed two things in particular.

One is that as I consume less alcohol, I consume more sweets: ice cream, honey in my tea, jam on my sandwiches … whatever it is. I'm pretty sure I've remarked on this regularity before.

The other is that I can tell the exact hour of the day when my desire for a drink is at its strongest. That is, I can feel like I'd enjoy a drink at this or that time during the day: mid-afternoon, late at night, while I'm blogging … whenever it is. But the time that I really feel like it's important, like I really have to have one now, is always the same. It's at the end of the workday, as I'm preparing to go home. (Or, if I'm working from home, as I'm starting to log out of my work computer.) In other words, Happy Hour.

Why then? There could be many reasons, I guess. I'm going to go with Pavlovian conditioning.

For thirty years, I was afraid to come home from work. This is the data point that first made me start to think there was something abusive about my marriage. That I was afraid to go home. And that was always because I never knew what I was going to be walking into. Was Wife going to be disappointed, critical, angry, depressed? Or was she going to be in a manic phase, gleefully making deranged plans for a future that would never come to pass? Would I have to defend myself against bitter attack, or steer her away from a lunatic enthusiasm, or nursemaid her through a migraine, or talk her slowly out of the suicidal depths of Hell? It might be any of those, or it might be a dozen other possibilities too -- each one wrenching and demanding and terrifying in its own way. And I never knew which it was going to be until I turned the knob and walked through the front door. 

But you know what helps with that kind of fear? Pouring a drink.

As I say, my explanation for why the urge is strongest at exactly that time of day -- and every day it's the same, that's the thing -- is Pavlovian conditioning. Not that I blame Wife for my ever drinking at all. That would be absurd. Clearly the decision whether to drink is on me. But why do I always want it so desperately right around 5:00 pm, as opposed to any other time in the whole day? That, I think, I can leave with her. 

Of course it doesn't really matter, but it interested me to see the connection.
     

Hufflepuff

Some time a year or two ago, when I was wasting time instead of working, I took the Pottermore Sorting Hat Quiz. (It seems to show up on lots of websites, so google it if you are interested.) And I was sorted into Hufflepuff.

I'm actually pretty happy with the choice. Once upon a time I would have seen myself as a pure Ravenclaw. But once I got over the initial surprise at my answer, I decided it better fits who I'd like to be these days. So that's good.

It did feel a little weird when I first saw the results, though.

    

Movie meme, 7 (The boys as adults)

Back when I first wrote the movie meme, the boys were still just kids. They were 12 and 10. So the fact that I picked kid actors to represent them was fully appropriate.

They are older now. They no longer look like the juvenile Mickey Rooney or the pre-adolescent Jake Lloyd. So it's time to replace those with new faces.

I've made these choices based largely on looks. Both actors are versatile enough to have played a lot of different characters, and I don't have any specific roles in mind. But the appearance is about right.

Son 1: A young Jeff Bridges. 

Son 1 has a kind of ursine good cheer that Jeff Bridges could handle well. His beard is usually unkempt, and his hair is usually a little unruly. But he is cheerful and doesn't let himself get ruffled. It's not that I think he's going to turn out like The Dude in later life -- at the very least, he's gainfully employed. But he's not going to let the world get to him, either. Son 1 abides.



Son 2: Chris Pratt

I don't have anything very intelligent to say about this choice. Son 2 is leaner than Son 1, and more athletic. They are both bearded, but Son 2 is more likely to have trimmed his beard some time in the last month. Somehow Chris Pratt seems like he looks about right. That's all.
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Somewhere along the line I should collect all these bits and pieces and re-do the whole Dramatis Personae all at once. Until I get around to that, though, you can find the earlier installments here, here, here, here, here. here, and here. (Yes, that's already seven installments even though I'm calling this one "number seven." One of them didn't have the words "Movie meme" in the title.)
         

COVID-19 diaries, part 4

 After her Zoom call (which I describe here) Debbie sent an email to all the friends and family who had been checking in on her, as follows:

I can share the good news that I am feeling much better, day by day.  I still get very tired at times, and it fluctuates throughout the day, so I continue to rest a lot, alternating with a little activity. 

Yesterday I put on my N95 mask and walked around the block in my neighborhood. That was wonderful and I hope to do it again tomorrow.  Today I got to talk with a few of you by zoom. 

My thoughts are beginning to turn to the question of when will it be safe for me to be with my daughter and her family in person again and when will it be safe to go do my own grocery shopping again.  I know the CDC says 10 days after positive test date if symptoms are improving, but my inclination is to play it safe and wait a bit longer, maybe even 3 weeks. 

It has been absolutely wonderful to hear from each of you, to reconnect, to catch up on what is happening in your lives and to hear about your families.  My heart is full!  I hope to meet with you by zoom soon.  The silver lining of being sick has been reconnecting.   I love you all so very much!

I will send out a few more updates, but probably not every day, unless things change for the worse, which hopefully will not happen.

That was on a Thursday. There were only a couple more notes from her related to her illness. 

Tuesday: [After I sent her a text message to check in.] Thanks, Hosea. I'm doing much better – would say I'm 95% recovered. I'm back to working at home and have had a big project given to me, so I'm busy today. It's good to be working!

Wednesday:  

One more and probably last update... I am feeling well, like myself again! There is still a bit of lingering cough, but my energy levels and mental clarity are back to normal. It's wonderful to be feeling good again! 

 This week I am back to work (at home) and have been asked to work on a new project for work that is giving me quite a few hours.... 

 I went for a 12 mile bicycle ride this afternoon and so enjoyed being out in the open air! With September 1st, autumn is arriving right on schedule. It's still warm during the day, but night time temperatures are in the low 50's and some trees are starting to turn color and drop their leaves. 

 Thank you, each and every one, for the wonderful support you gave me while I was sick. It meant so much to me. I especially enjoyed reconnecting with you and hearing about your families. 

 Hugs and love to you all! May you be safe and well.

I call that a happy ending. And I'm grateful.