New Focus

I stopped blogging for a while because I changed my "no rules" approach to losing weight. Not that anyone reads or cares, but I have this thing where I change my approach all the time. It's something I'm kind of ashamed of, so I end up keeping it to myself whenever I change my own rules. I crave consistency in life, but sometimes things don't work and you have to try something else. The "no rules" approach was just too difficult for me. I continue to believe that it is a really good way to do things if you can. But there's being mindful and there's losing weight. I want both, but the latter does not necessarily require the former. I was using weight loss as a channel for learning mindfulness, but I think I need to learn them separately. Honestly, I want my jeans to fit again and the whole "be mindful in every moment" approach was just taking too long. I'm not looking for a quick fix, because I've had enough quick fixes to know that you always spring back to the way things were before. But I do need something that shows consistent results. For that, I joined Weight Watchers. I've been to four meetings so far and I've lost almost 4 pounds. I'm a little disappointed that it's not more, but the best part is that I am not fluctuating from week to week. It's always a move downward, no matter how slight.

I also had a big shake-up in my life. I don't want to go into too many details, but my husband and I were involved in a domestic dispute. The actual physical contact was mild (he picked me up and carried me a few feet against my will, and then I backhanded him), but for reasons I still don't understand, when I was alone in the bedroom about to go to bed, he called the police on me. Since he had slight redness from the slap, the police took me into custody where I spent three nights in jail. The prosecutor decided not to press charges and thought I probably shouldn't have been in jail. The three nights gave me a lot of perspective. I was all alone with nothing to do for the first day. Then a guard gave me some magazines that were two years old. I was cold, I had no pillow, the bright lights were always on, I had heartburn like mad, and I just cried and cried and cried. I worried about what this would do to my career. Even though I should have done it a year ago, I still have not fully processed my moral character application, which is a requirement to be admitted to the Bar. This is already a source of great shame and embarrassment for me. I worried that this would make it take even longer, that every potential employer would ask me to explain this incident. To my relief, it turned out that since I was released without a charge, nobody will find out about this unless I work at a high security government job.

I was so furious with my husband for putting me in this position when he knew the damage it would cause. There was really no explanation for what he did. Sure, I did not do the right thing when I slapped him, but involving the police? Aside from his physical size and strength and ability to protect himself, I was not even threatening him. At first I just wanted to leave, to go far away from my life and make a new start. I figured I could find an apartment in Texas or Idaho or someplace for $500 a month until I got a job there. The second day, I woke up thinking, why should I leave? I love my city, I love where I live. I was not the one at fault here, I was the victim. Why should I have to pack up and leave in shame? Let him find somewhere else to stay. I fantasized about the day I would get out--lying low until he went to work, and then surprising him at the office with a big red suitcase packed for him.

I wondered how much he knew. After all, the only phone call I made was to cancel a doctor's appointment I had that week. Nobody had to know. But in the back of my mind, as much as it would have been easy to hate him for it, I couldn't. I would have had fewer tears, more resolve, more fire in my belly if I could hate him. But I pictured him and how he must be. He probably wasn't able to eat. He probably didn't even watch TV. He was probably just sad, that way he gets when he just wants to sleep until everything goes away. I hoped he was sorry for what he did, and I worried that I couldn't take it if he wasn't. The more I obsessed about what he did and what he was doing and what he was going to do when I returned, the more I realized that he is my world. I've never had a friendship like the one I share with him. We don't communicate very well, but we'd been working on it. Sometimes we just understand each other so well, like two halves of the same person, and sometimes we seem to have grown up on different planets. He has shown me so much outside of myself and the world I knew. How could I hate someone with whom I shared the deepest friendship I'd ever known? I missed his smell, his puffy lips and his warm dry hands with the bruised knuckles. I missed the way he says words like "tour" and "jewelry". I missed the mystical eyes that couldn't be assigned a particular color. I was so nervous coming home. I didn't know if he was prepared for it.

I was released at dawn on a Wednesday, and I walked home. Funny they were more than willing to escort me there, but I was on my own to get home. I thanked fate for not sending me to the county facility—how would I have gotten home then, I wondered. I slipped into our apartment, grabbed my purse in the entryway, and slipped out again unnoticed. I took my car down to the ocean bluffs, walked to a coffee shop, and then strolled along, waiting. I still didn't know what I would do. Would I pack him a bag? Would I leave? Or would I give in to my sentiment and see how things went? On the way back home, I stopped to get gas, just in case. My card was declined, and I paid cash. When I got home, I spent an hour in the shower. Could I wash off the shame I felt for the situation in which I had found myself? I looked up my bank statement online. Overdrawn. Great. There goes the apartment in Texas. With my checking overdrawn and my credit card maxed out, I also worried how he would react when he found out. Would he wish I had stayed in jail, where at least he didn't have to provide me food and shelter? I decided to wait a few days, because now, suddenly, I needed him even more. I checked the fridge, which contained burgers, steaks, and beef stew. I guess he took advantage of the situation to eat the things I didn't buy.

Then the phone rang. I picked it up, thinking it might be him. It was his matter-of-fact matriarch grandmother. She wanted to know if I needed money for my moral character application. Clearing my throat and wiping away tears, I told her that I didn't want to accept her money without telling her the truth about my relationship with her grandson. I skimped on the details of the fight, but told her that I had spent the last three nights in jail and I wasn't sure where the relationship was headed. Her advice was just what I needed. In her straightforward way, she told me to be an adult and not to run away from my problems. She said all relationships have their struggles, especially when two strong-willed people are involved, and that it would be worth it to work it out. Then, without any sentimentality, she said she would send the money anyway, implying that she knew I would stay.

Still not ready to talk to my husband, I e-mailed him at work and asked if he could schedule a session with our marriage counselor that day. He replied immediately and was able to do it. We met with the counselor and talked a little, and I knew that things were going to at least be safe and civil at home. I was satisfied with that for the time being.

It's been a few weeks now since all this happened. He kept me waiting for an apology, but he finally gave me one. I told him about the money and we worked out a financial plan that will carry us through until I start getting paid more. I feel that we have treated each other with so much more respect and kindness since this situation. We both saw how blessed we are and how much we have to lose if we don't make this relationship work. I was always taught that God can use bad situations to accomplish something good, and I am seeing that firsthand now.