NEED TO CONTROL AND COUNTERMAND
As the kids grew older Ruth developed a habit of countermanding almost every instruction I would give our children. Despite my repeated and frequent discussions with her about how destructive this behavior was, both for the children and for my authority as a parent, she would never yield any ground. She never acknowledged that I had a valid point, but rather would react as if I was attacking her and spew some profanity at me while insisting that I leave her alone. She also refused to speak with me privately about any disagreement, but would rather react loudly and publicly to any challenges, exposing our kids constantly to scenes of parental discord.
One small example of this behavior occurred when Rebekah was about 6 years old. I only remember it clearly because my Mother was visiting and pointed it out to me. Prior to dinner, Rebekah asked if she could have ice cream. I told her no, that Mommy was preparing dinner for all of us and that we would be eating soon, and that she shouldn't spoil her appetite. Ruth had begun treating any request from the children for food, no matter what kind of food or what time of day, as a must-comply event. So hearing me tell Rebekah to wait for dinner seemed a call to Ruth for intervention, and she immediately stopped what she was doing to retrieve the ice cream from the freezer and serve it to Rebekah. When my mother shared her dismay with me later about this moment and Ruth's behavior, I agreed with her it was outrageous, but explained that it was just part of Ruth's daily habits.
Ruth also suddenly developed a strong dislike for all of my family, particularly my Mother. She would mock my Mother and mimic her disparagingly in front of the children, and encourage them to do the same. This behavior continues to this day, not only with mocking my Mother, but also my Brother and his Asian wife, in particular her accent. Planning any visits with any of my family has become impossibly difficult to work out with Ruth.
Another battlefront became the children's bed time, which remains a nightly trauma. Just last night at 10 pm when Ruth and I were going to bed and the kids were still up, complaining they were hungry and not tired, and I was fruitlessly trying to gain their cooperation to brush teeth and get to bed, Ruth stated out-loud so the kids could hear that she did't believe in bed times.
Ruth also began demanding control of the house finances and the thermostat. She has always liked to have the house on the cooler side, but her preferences moved from cool to cold as she started have menopausal symptoms. I used to have our thermostat programmed to cool off at night and warm up just before waking. Ruth started overriding the programming, eventually disabling the program and manually adjusting it to her liking. She began to police the house temperature and get angry whenever she the thermostat settings changed. She then cranks down the temperature and throws open the windows. Ruth likes to keep the temperature set at 65 during the day and 62 or 63 at night. I am constantly increasing the temperature and closing windows. She is constantly decreasing the temperature and opening windows.
OUR CHILDREN'S ANXIETY
Of particular concern is our children's anxiety states. Rebekah in particular has an anxious coping style, and to a lesser extend Cole does too. Both now see psychologists, and Rebekah in particular has received support from Psychiatrists and Psychologists for many years. Both children are dyslexic, Rebekah more than Cole, and Rebekah is also ADHD, which she was diagnosed with at around 6 years of age. She takes medications to control both her anxiety and her ADHD. No doubt the overall discordant tone that overlays the running of our household only exacerbates these problems. I am fully aware of these impacts, but Ruth has made it impossible for us, despite my persistent efforts, to resolve them.
We have been repeatedly advised by our physiologists that their anxiety would be decreased if they got ample sleep, had clearer boundaries, had an established routine including bed time, and above all, had two parents that worked as a team. While I go out of my way to support Ruth with the children and affirm her parenting role, she goes out of her way to do the opposite; to counter everything I tell them or ask them.
IRRATIONAL, INTENSE AND VIOLENT RAGES
After Cole was born, Ruth began having intense and irrational rages that sometimes take on a violent dimension. I will recount two memorable occasions.
When Cole became big enough to sleep in a bed, we decided to refurnish the second upstairs bedroom. We repainted the walls and purchased a good quality but not extravagant bunk-bed with matching nightstand and dresser. As with Rebekah, I had developed a routine with Cole of reading to him before bed and then cuddling with him for a few minutes while he settled in for sleep. One night I was feeling the chill of the house and made myself a cup of tea before beginning Cole's night routine. As I turned from the kitchen toward the bedroom, Ruth noticed me heading off with the tea in hand and stopped me. She said I couldn't take the tea into his bedroom with the new furniture. I might spill it or make a ring on the nightstand. I told her that was ridiculous, that I wasn't going to spill it and that I would put something under the cup before I set it down. She said no and demanded that I leave the cup in the kitchen. I refused. I told her there was absolutely no reason to oblige her, that I was an adult and was entitled to a simple cup of tea. I turned on my heal and headed to the bedroom. But Ruth followed, becoming increasingly agitated and yelling after me. I asked her to leave me be. But she was not to be deterred. As I entered the threshold to the bedroom where Cole was eagerly awaiting in his bed, Ruth grabbed my arm and reached for the cup, spouting profanities all the while. I pulled away from her and hunched my back, trying to protect my drink from her and avoid spilling it. But Ruth persisted. She then reach both hands around me from behind, trying a sort of tackle while grabbing for the cup, much like a blitzing safety might try to bring down a quarterback while stripping the ball. At this point the hot tea was all but guaranteed to spill, so I relented and let her take the cup. As she walked away I was deeply shaken. I knew then that something was terribly wrong with her and our relationship.
As the kids got older we got them bicycles and they learned how to ride them. When our children were about 9 and 7 years old, our neighbor's older children gave us their old bicycles, which our kids where just becoming big enough to fit. At that point we had 4 bicycles stored in the garage. Prior to Ruth moving in with me, I had spent considerable time and energy remodeling the house we now share. I had completely renovated the downstairs, creating two bedrooms there, and had remodeled our kitchen and master bath. This was work I really enjoyed, and I had all of my tools and a work bench setup in the garage. But the storage of the bicycles was now blocking access to my work bench and my tools and I was looking for a solution to the problem. I found and purchased two sets of bicycle hangers that used a rope and locking pulley to safely raise and lower the bikes from the ceiling. I showed Ruth what I had purchased and explained how I was going to set it up. She said she didn't like it, that the kids were going to hurt themselves trying to get their bicycles. I assured her that would not be the case, that the bicycles weren't heavy, that the kids were plenty old enough to manage it, that our nanny Tibby was always there and could help them with it if needed. In addition, or kids, especially our daughter, was extremely tentative about anything that seemed dangerous, so was unlikely to get herself into any trouble without asking for help if she felt she needed it. I also impressed on her the importance to me of restoring access to my tools and bench. She said no. I told her I felt she was being unreasonable and irrational, and that I was going to try this and if it proved to be too difficult I would remove the hanger. She again told me no and I told her that I was going to try it anyway.
At some point a few weeks later, Ruth was out doing errands with the kids, which left the garage car-free and also gave me the hour I needed to put up one of the bicycle hangers and see how it worked. It was an easy install, and it held the bicycle up and out of the way. I had no concerns that it would be dangerous for the kids to manage. Later Ruth returned to pick me up and we all headed out to dinner. I had completely forgotten about the hanging bicycle and only remembered to mention it after dinner as we approached the driveway and Ruth clicked the automatic garage opener. She was already in a rage before the garage door was even open. She stopped the car in the driveway (she was driving), flung her door open, and stormed toward the hanging bike. It was night time, so the headlights were illuminated the scene. The kids were in the back seat watching the drama that was about to ensue. She was yelling at me to take it down; "Take it down now! Take it down NOW! You are going to make me hurt my back!". She was grabbing onto the bike with both hands and yanking on it with all the force she could muster, trying to pull the whole thing down, shouting obscenities at me throughout. The bicycle remained secure. It was a frightening display of unchained anger, and I was very worried about its impact on my children, who were transfixed in the back seat. In a reassuring tone, I tried to explain to them that their Mom was obliviously very upset, but that she would calm down shortly and it was going to be OK. My daughter was upset at me for provoking Ruth in this way and blamed me for Ruth's actions. I tried to explain to her that neither she nor I should live our lives avoiding doing things that we both could agree were reasonable just because they might make Mommy upset. This event was a turning point for me. It was the first time I allowed myself to start thinking seriously about divorce as a possible and reasonable solution.
DISABLING PAIN
In the past year and a half, Ruth has been through much physical discomfort and trauma. Ruth has always complained about her back since I met her, and in fact she had a diskectomy many years before I met her. I never noticed her having any problems with her back, though, until after the children were born, and then she was frequently complaining of back problems. She started asking me to assist her around the house with lifting chores pretty much constantly since then, including getting things out of drawers like flour and sugar, getting the dog's food and water bowls, carrying the laundry, etc. But more recently, her pain became so severe for a time that she was starting to become invalided. As much as I tried to help, I became even more the focus of scorn and ridicule than I had been before. I felt very abused and taken advantage of, and it was hard for me to sympathize with her pain because she was treating me so horribly. Thermostat.
At the low point of her suffering, I wrote an email from work to my mother about how difficult it was for me and that I was at my whit's end. I also stated that I really wanted to find a way out of the marriage after Ruth recovered some of her health. Unfortunately, and most would say Freudianly, I had typed this message in a reply to an earlier email from her in which Ruth had been copied. Ruth therefore received a copy of this communication.
This caused an immediate crisis in the house. When I arrived home Ruth was in quite a rage. With the children present, she began yelling at me and tearing our wedding photos off the wall. Of course this commotion alerted our children to the crisis, and they entered our bedroom in a panic to see what was wrong. Ruth explained to them what a mean and insensitive person I was and that I wanted a divorce. She also characterized my relationship with my mother, their grandmother, as warped and twisted. I found myself unexpectedly having to devise a reassuring explanation for the kids to make sense of Ruth's rage and provide some reassurance. I remained as calm as I could despite the turmoil I was feeling, and in as reassuring a way as I could muster explained that we might be separating and that my actions were then, and would continue to be, with their best interests at top of mind.
Cole had been having some notable behavioral problems at this time, which could be traced back to his bout with Mono the year before, but also ostensibly had something to do with him disliking school and his teacher. He was spending all of his time in the family room on the computer playing Mind-craft and had become very withdrawn. Guests and extended family all noticed his withdrawm state and expressed their concern. After this sudden blow up in the house, Cole was visibly upset. I found a moment to take him aside and quietly assure him that we were all going to be fine and that this would work out and everything would OK. I also asked him if one of the reasons why he had been so withdrawn and upset lately might be to avoid being with Ruth and me because of our constant disagreements and arguing, and might he not actually feel better if we separated and all of that tension stopped? He looked at me and said; "Dad, you're 99% correct." It's also interesting to note that Ruth's physical recovery began that very day.
As the kids grew older Ruth developed a habit of countermanding almost every instruction I would give our children. Despite my repeated and frequent discussions with her about how destructive this behavior was, both for the children and for my authority as a parent, she would never yield any ground. She never acknowledged that I had a valid point, but rather would react as if I was attacking her and spew some profanity at me while insisting that I leave her alone. She also refused to speak with me privately about any disagreement, but would rather react loudly and publicly to any challenges, exposing our kids constantly to scenes of parental discord.
One small example of this behavior occurred when Rebekah was about 6 years old. I only remember it clearly because my Mother was visiting and pointed it out to me. Prior to dinner, Rebekah asked if she could have ice cream. I told her no, that Mommy was preparing dinner for all of us and that we would be eating soon, and that she shouldn't spoil her appetite. Ruth had begun treating any request from the children for food, no matter what kind of food or what time of day, as a must-comply event. So hearing me tell Rebekah to wait for dinner seemed a call to Ruth for intervention, and she immediately stopped what she was doing to retrieve the ice cream from the freezer and serve it to Rebekah. When my mother shared her dismay with me later about this moment and Ruth's behavior, I agreed with her it was outrageous, but explained that it was just part of Ruth's daily habits.
Ruth also suddenly developed a strong dislike for all of my family, particularly my Mother. She would mock my Mother and mimic her disparagingly in front of the children, and encourage them to do the same. This behavior continues to this day, not only with mocking my Mother, but also my Brother and his Asian wife, in particular her accent. Planning any visits with any of my family has become impossibly difficult to work out with Ruth.
Another battlefront became the children's bed time, which remains a nightly trauma. Just last night at 10 pm when Ruth and I were going to bed and the kids were still up, complaining they were hungry and not tired, and I was fruitlessly trying to gain their cooperation to brush teeth and get to bed, Ruth stated out-loud so the kids could hear that she did't believe in bed times.
Ruth also began demanding control of the house finances and the thermostat. She has always liked to have the house on the cooler side, but her preferences moved from cool to cold as she started have menopausal symptoms. I used to have our thermostat programmed to cool off at night and warm up just before waking. Ruth started overriding the programming, eventually disabling the program and manually adjusting it to her liking. She began to police the house temperature and get angry whenever she the thermostat settings changed. She then cranks down the temperature and throws open the windows. Ruth likes to keep the temperature set at 65 during the day and 62 or 63 at night. I am constantly increasing the temperature and closing windows. She is constantly decreasing the temperature and opening windows.
OUR CHILDREN'S ANXIETY
Of particular concern is our children's anxiety states. Rebekah in particular has an anxious coping style, and to a lesser extend Cole does too. Both now see psychologists, and Rebekah in particular has received support from Psychiatrists and Psychologists for many years. Both children are dyslexic, Rebekah more than Cole, and Rebekah is also ADHD, which she was diagnosed with at around 6 years of age. She takes medications to control both her anxiety and her ADHD. No doubt the overall discordant tone that overlays the running of our household only exacerbates these problems. I am fully aware of these impacts, but Ruth has made it impossible for us, despite my persistent efforts, to resolve them.
We have been repeatedly advised by our physiologists that their anxiety would be decreased if they got ample sleep, had clearer boundaries, had an established routine including bed time, and above all, had two parents that worked as a team. While I go out of my way to support Ruth with the children and affirm her parenting role, she goes out of her way to do the opposite; to counter everything I tell them or ask them.
IRRATIONAL, INTENSE AND VIOLENT RAGES
After Cole was born, Ruth began having intense and irrational rages that sometimes take on a violent dimension. I will recount two memorable occasions.
When Cole became big enough to sleep in a bed, we decided to refurnish the second upstairs bedroom. We repainted the walls and purchased a good quality but not extravagant bunk-bed with matching nightstand and dresser. As with Rebekah, I had developed a routine with Cole of reading to him before bed and then cuddling with him for a few minutes while he settled in for sleep. One night I was feeling the chill of the house and made myself a cup of tea before beginning Cole's night routine. As I turned from the kitchen toward the bedroom, Ruth noticed me heading off with the tea in hand and stopped me. She said I couldn't take the tea into his bedroom with the new furniture. I might spill it or make a ring on the nightstand. I told her that was ridiculous, that I wasn't going to spill it and that I would put something under the cup before I set it down. She said no and demanded that I leave the cup in the kitchen. I refused. I told her there was absolutely no reason to oblige her, that I was an adult and was entitled to a simple cup of tea. I turned on my heal and headed to the bedroom. But Ruth followed, becoming increasingly agitated and yelling after me. I asked her to leave me be. But she was not to be deterred. As I entered the threshold to the bedroom where Cole was eagerly awaiting in his bed, Ruth grabbed my arm and reached for the cup, spouting profanities all the while. I pulled away from her and hunched my back, trying to protect my drink from her and avoid spilling it. But Ruth persisted. She then reach both hands around me from behind, trying a sort of tackle while grabbing for the cup, much like a blitzing safety might try to bring down a quarterback while stripping the ball. At this point the hot tea was all but guaranteed to spill, so I relented and let her take the cup. As she walked away I was deeply shaken. I knew then that something was terribly wrong with her and our relationship.
As the kids got older we got them bicycles and they learned how to ride them. When our children were about 9 and 7 years old, our neighbor's older children gave us their old bicycles, which our kids where just becoming big enough to fit. At that point we had 4 bicycles stored in the garage. Prior to Ruth moving in with me, I had spent considerable time and energy remodeling the house we now share. I had completely renovated the downstairs, creating two bedrooms there, and had remodeled our kitchen and master bath. This was work I really enjoyed, and I had all of my tools and a work bench setup in the garage. But the storage of the bicycles was now blocking access to my work bench and my tools and I was looking for a solution to the problem. I found and purchased two sets of bicycle hangers that used a rope and locking pulley to safely raise and lower the bikes from the ceiling. I showed Ruth what I had purchased and explained how I was going to set it up. She said she didn't like it, that the kids were going to hurt themselves trying to get their bicycles. I assured her that would not be the case, that the bicycles weren't heavy, that the kids were plenty old enough to manage it, that our nanny Tibby was always there and could help them with it if needed. In addition, or kids, especially our daughter, was extremely tentative about anything that seemed dangerous, so was unlikely to get herself into any trouble without asking for help if she felt she needed it. I also impressed on her the importance to me of restoring access to my tools and bench. She said no. I told her I felt she was being unreasonable and irrational, and that I was going to try this and if it proved to be too difficult I would remove the hanger. She again told me no and I told her that I was going to try it anyway.
At some point a few weeks later, Ruth was out doing errands with the kids, which left the garage car-free and also gave me the hour I needed to put up one of the bicycle hangers and see how it worked. It was an easy install, and it held the bicycle up and out of the way. I had no concerns that it would be dangerous for the kids to manage. Later Ruth returned to pick me up and we all headed out to dinner. I had completely forgotten about the hanging bicycle and only remembered to mention it after dinner as we approached the driveway and Ruth clicked the automatic garage opener. She was already in a rage before the garage door was even open. She stopped the car in the driveway (she was driving), flung her door open, and stormed toward the hanging bike. It was night time, so the headlights were illuminated the scene. The kids were in the back seat watching the drama that was about to ensue. She was yelling at me to take it down; "Take it down now! Take it down NOW! You are going to make me hurt my back!". She was grabbing onto the bike with both hands and yanking on it with all the force she could muster, trying to pull the whole thing down, shouting obscenities at me throughout. The bicycle remained secure. It was a frightening display of unchained anger, and I was very worried about its impact on my children, who were transfixed in the back seat. In a reassuring tone, I tried to explain to them that their Mom was obliviously very upset, but that she would calm down shortly and it was going to be OK. My daughter was upset at me for provoking Ruth in this way and blamed me for Ruth's actions. I tried to explain to her that neither she nor I should live our lives avoiding doing things that we both could agree were reasonable just because they might make Mommy upset. This event was a turning point for me. It was the first time I allowed myself to start thinking seriously about divorce as a possible and reasonable solution.
DISABLING PAIN
In the past year and a half, Ruth has been through much physical discomfort and trauma. Ruth has always complained about her back since I met her, and in fact she had a diskectomy many years before I met her. I never noticed her having any problems with her back, though, until after the children were born, and then she was frequently complaining of back problems. She started asking me to assist her around the house with lifting chores pretty much constantly since then, including getting things out of drawers like flour and sugar, getting the dog's food and water bowls, carrying the laundry, etc. But more recently, her pain became so severe for a time that she was starting to become invalided. As much as I tried to help, I became even more the focus of scorn and ridicule than I had been before. I felt very abused and taken advantage of, and it was hard for me to sympathize with her pain because she was treating me so horribly. Thermostat.
At the low point of her suffering, I wrote an email from work to my mother about how difficult it was for me and that I was at my whit's end. I also stated that I really wanted to find a way out of the marriage after Ruth recovered some of her health. Unfortunately, and most would say Freudianly, I had typed this message in a reply to an earlier email from her in which Ruth had been copied. Ruth therefore received a copy of this communication.
This caused an immediate crisis in the house. When I arrived home Ruth was in quite a rage. With the children present, she began yelling at me and tearing our wedding photos off the wall. Of course this commotion alerted our children to the crisis, and they entered our bedroom in a panic to see what was wrong. Ruth explained to them what a mean and insensitive person I was and that I wanted a divorce. She also characterized my relationship with my mother, their grandmother, as warped and twisted. I found myself unexpectedly having to devise a reassuring explanation for the kids to make sense of Ruth's rage and provide some reassurance. I remained as calm as I could despite the turmoil I was feeling, and in as reassuring a way as I could muster explained that we might be separating and that my actions were then, and would continue to be, with their best interests at top of mind.
Cole had been having some notable behavioral problems at this time, which could be traced back to his bout with Mono the year before, but also ostensibly had something to do with him disliking school and his teacher. He was spending all of his time in the family room on the computer playing Mind-craft and had become very withdrawn. Guests and extended family all noticed his withdrawm state and expressed their concern. After this sudden blow up in the house, Cole was visibly upset. I found a moment to take him aside and quietly assure him that we were all going to be fine and that this would work out and everything would OK. I also asked him if one of the reasons why he had been so withdrawn and upset lately might be to avoid being with Ruth and me because of our constant disagreements and arguing, and might he not actually feel better if we separated and all of that tension stopped? He looked at me and said; "Dad, you're 99% correct." It's also interesting to note that Ruth's physical recovery began that very day.
