Shirt of Arrows

In her deeply personal exploration of the Blessed Mother archetype, Untie the Strong Woman, storyteller Clarissa Pinkola Estes describes how the old men of her community used the phrase "she wore a shirt of arrows" to show deep respect for a person, female or male, whose eternal soul was untouched despite the piercings of arrows of disrespect, misunderstanding, or even abuse. Such a person bore up under extreme emotional, and perhaps physical, duress, refusing to let those experiences define her or defile her. Too, the description reminds me of part of a hymn I've sung since childhood:  "No storm can come to me, no arrow strike me down; no evil settle in my soul." 

This blog is my shirt of arrows.... or at least, that is my hope.  My intention is to explore, describe, lament, understand, and ultimately, triumph, over the arrows that have, after 28 years, brought about the ending of my marriage and my pending divorce from my husband, Shawn. My intention is, through writing, reading, learning and praying, to release the anger and bitterness of the poisonous arrow tips currently piercing my life.  

An archer, in learning her craft, studies not only her bow, but also the weapons she shoots from it.  She learns the weight of each shaft, the shape of each tip, the feel of the fletching.  With the love that only comes from studying something closely, she peers at her weapon in order to learn it by heart, understand how the various parts work intricately together to launch a missile that will efficiently destroy her target.  

In the same way, I intend to use this blog to look at the various patterns and behaviors of our marriage, to understand how they worked together to effectively destroy what I thought was lifelong love. In becoming my shirt of arrows, I hope this blog will help me grieve and release my marriage, in order to move forward with my soul intact. 

I have other intentions here, too, however.  I've joined several online support groups for women going through difficult divorces, and for the most part, I'm frustrated by what I see as largely a victim mentality.  It's true that Shawn was emotionally abusive to me, and throughout this blog, I will tell stories that will illustrate that.  However, I don't intend to join in the "poor me" commentary I read so much of online.  I've tried to always teach my children - both those who are biological and those I've encountered professionally - that one always has a choice between being a victim, or a victor.  I choose to be a victor by learning all I can about emotional abuse, narcissism, and what I know is a connection between these behaviors and childhood trauma.  Knowledge is power, and in learning why these patterns surfaced in my marriage, I hope I can educate younger women (and men) whose spirits are not yet in danger. 

In the year since Shawn filed for divorce - the afternoon after I refused to sign our cattle and horse brands over into his name as sole owner - I have learned that some people suffer from a behavior disorder known as narcissitic personality disorder.  Although I am not a psychologist, the descripors of this disorder are often eerily similar to behaviors I'd become accustomed to in my marriage.  Sometimes I wonder if, somehow, an expert in these disorders was recording my mind-numbing conversations with Shawn.  Behaviors prevalent among people who suffer from narcissistic personality disorder include gaslighting, grandiosity, entitilement, lying, blame-shifting, and an overwhelming inability to feel empahy. Behaviors of narcissists who abuse their partners and children include verbal and physical abuse, infidelity, lack of concern for the other person's individuality or needs, using an extended silent treatment as punishment, various forms of addiction, and blaming the other person for their own inappropriate, even abusive, behavior. Since beginning to learn of narcissistic abuse, I've connected with others who have also been victims, and have begun to recognize patterns.  I've even learned of a male cousin whose first spouse was this way.  I choose to be a victor because I want to learn why I stayed in such a relationship for nearly 30 years - how I, as a woman, was socialized to put up with this behavior, and how many of us who are raised to be good, kind people become easy targets for narcissists. 

I choose to be a victor because I see an acceptance of these behaviors in the agricultural community in which Shawn and I lived for most of our marriage.  I don't mean to say that all  ranchers or farmers live in situations that are emotionally abusive.  I just see certain behaviors being rewarded by the nature of the lifestyle, even being made necessary in some situations, but then carried from the barn or the field into the home.  That is heartbreaking, and marriage-destroying.  I write this blog for the young wives physically and emotionally isolated on farms and ranches, trying desperately to balance childcare, helping on the place, and perhaps earning money with some sideline business. There is a strong current of patriarchal control in the agricultural world, and I intend to peer into the corners of that world and shine a light on the cobwebs that have gathered there. 

I choose to be a victor, ultimately, by shining that same light into the corners of my own world, and by using my beam to chase down the critters that scurry away.  I know I have developed behaviors of which I am not proud.  I know that if I want to move forward with my soul intact, the only way to do that is to look as closely at myself as I look at the other people involved in this story.  Emotional abuse is ugly... uglier than mice that hide in dark corners. And the research will give you many reasons why that abuse happens, why the perpetrators engage in such behaviors.  But for my own healing, one question rises above all:  why did I allow, and even participate in, it?  What about my own self-esteem made me live with such behaviors for such a long time?  In the end, it will be this question, this central arrow in my shirt, that I hope will make me victorious over what is one of the most painful and most demoralizing experiences of my life. 

One caveat:  If you are familiar with my writing from other blogs or from my book, please don't expect more of the same.   That writing was edited for peacekeeping.  In this writing, I choose peacemaking, and from what I've learned so far in life, the only way to truly make peace is to tell the truth, no matter how unpleasant.  This writing won't be whitewashed to cover up any nastiness, and then presented with an ending neatly tied up with a bow.  This writing will be raw, emotional, uncomfortable for both you and me, and real.  This is my truth.  If you aren't ready to know it, then please don't read it. 

Thank you for being here.  You, too, are my shirt of arrows.  In the last several months, many of you have saved me.  I write, at last, for you.