New Environments, New Tests... And New Successes!

How can I be sure I feel differently now? How do I know that what I have learned is become my new reality?

I have wondered about the complexity of the human mind (other people's minds... my own is frighteningly simple) and how easy it is to believe we can just modify it, like adding mudflaps to our trucks. Turn a few screws and viola! an all-new personality.

Only I know that it doesn't work that way. I think it's kind of like hypnotism. The way I hear it, you can hypnotize anyone to do anything they are amenable to in waking life. For example, you can't hypnotize a gay man straight, or make an honest man into a thief... but you can make a person stop smoking cigarettes if that is something they WANT to do, but lack the necessary willpower to carry out.

I had to have it IN me to be a nonviolent man, no matter how conditioning has coerced me to behave. It might have become a part of my association with my ex-wife, for example, to become emotional and agitated over every piece of news, but if it wasn't who I was before I met her, then I had the chance to return to that pre-wife calmness that I not only desire, but NEED in order to remain on this side of a walled-in pen.

I have spent two hours a week for the past year getting hypnotized into being the calm and docile man I used to be. Only it wasn't hypnosis... it was common sense. Hearing common sense from the facilitators and hearing the positive outcome stories from other group members was a cathartic immersion therapy. Add to that a few a-ha moments and I feel as though I have a new lease on life, and today's story exemplifies this learning. I'm ready to receive my diploma.

To all of you who read this blog, you know I maintain a friendship with my ex-wife. Not only is she my daughter's mother, she is the person I hurt which landed me in Anger Management group to begin with. You may find that risky, like dieting at an all-you-can-eat place, but it's really not.

To begin with, I actually love my ex-wife. We split long ago not because we fell out of love, but because the emotion which built up around our everyday behaviors around each other became very intense, very quickly, all the time. It was not uncommon to have a scene in public; at a restaurant, in a department store, in a movie theater. Unfortunately, we never made up... the anger just petered out to a tolerable level and we would continue like that, until the next flare-up. 

We handle situations differently, and neither of us could ever understand why the other one just couldn't see our perspective. So yeah, there was a lot of STUFFING going on. And I have come to learn that if I am stuffed too full, I explode, and it's usually not pretty when I do.

But of late I have found that a few tools have surprising results for me. My wife was born in another country, and while that in itself is not a reason to think or act differently, certain cultural differences have caused clashes in the past. I doubt I can attribute stubbornness to one particular culture, but it comes into play in this story. Anyway, I have learned that if I capitulate when my ex believes she is right... wait for it... she will cave as well!

That's right... I learned that all she needed to hear was that I thought she was right, and all her own doubts about her behavior just spilled out in a confessional forgive-for-all. I also learned she is a tough cookie (and that MIGHT just be a cultural behavior) and I shouldn't expect a tearful hug'n'kiss'n'makeup from her. But that doesn't mean she isn't feeling it-- I can tell by her mild reactions to whatever events transpire in the next few hours.

So I learned to pick my battles.  I also learned to LISTEN FOR UNDERSTANDING. Now on to the story:

She is a proud daughter of Israel, and this past Sunday was Israeli Independence Day. She was invited to a barbecue, and invited me to come along as her 'plus one'. She said I'd have fun, and that it would only be for a couple of hours. Let me explain what that means, using my Bullshit-to-English translator:

Israeli Barbecue MEANS Food I've never heard of, which flavors alternate between garlic, snail juice and chutzpah.

Plus One MEANS  I'm the one they talk about behind my back.

I'd Have Fun  MEANS  She'd have fun.

A Couple Of Hours  MEANS  Bring a tent.

I already know what I'm getting into. I have been to many Israeli parties in the past and they are fun affairs in truth; the food is actually quite tasty if a little foreign, and everyone is laughing and chatting away.

Well, that's what this one was like. Doesn't sound bad, right? Well, I might have omitted a small detail about Israeli people at parties: It doesn't matter how many are at a party-- could be 2, could be 50-- the same thing happens every time, and that is: They forget all English and speak in Hebrew. Loudly.

Did I mention my learning disability? Maybe it's laziness, but I cannot pick up any more than a couple of words in any language. I know my ex for 20 years and the only Hebrew I know is what she yelled as she tossed my ass out, and I can't write it here because I don't know how to-- there are sounds in that word that I don't think exist in nature.

We arrive at the party and are introduced around: That one's Tzvika, she's Rivka (SHE? Really?); those people are Kak, Braug and Kiss (that wasn't her name... her name sounded like a kiss); that woman is named Titsy (or Tzitzy; doesn't matter, still terrible); Hurg, Plaktu and Fudi; the twins Zion and Ryan, and Flerm. Roll the 'r'. There were more, but my pencil point wore down. I called the rest of those people 'Buddy' and 'Sweetie'.

Everyone was very polite and shook my hand and said hello, or 'nayim mayode', which translates roughly into 'I won't kill you today', and we all did what people do at parties-- gravitate into groups. My first group was around the barbecue... I asked for chicken and he smiled and nodded, then plated me something red and springy... I think there was a shell? It tasted good but smelled vaguely of my grandmother's pantry. 

Afterwards I sat with my ex and  a bunch of others; one was telling an extremely funny joke-- I could tell because the others were smiling and laughing on cue-- but it was in Hebrew so I didn't understand. My ex then made him tell it again for me in English, which I would have preferred she not do. Funny thing was, because everyone had heard it moments before, they helped him along all the way through the joke, which I thought was funny. It went something like this:

There were two jews, Hymie and Moshe...

Wasn't one of them Chaim?

No. And they walked past a church with a sign that said 'convert today and get $50'. Moshe said, "I need the money-- I'm gonna do it."

No, Hymie converted!

Let me tell it!

I still think Chaim was there.

Oy vey forget Chaim he's in the other joke already.

Vat are you talking about?

So Hymie goes in the church...

You mean Moshe!

Moshe wouldn't convert!... oy, his mother...

Right! MOSHE goes in the church and comes out an hour later...

It was four hours later...

I heard Chaim waited for Moshe overnight...

OY! Forget Chaim already!

And comes back to Chaim, his head bowed...

Wait! You mean Hymie!

Hymie's head was bowed?

No! Moshe's head was bowed, and Hymie asked, "So Moshe did you get the $50?"

I love this punchline!

It's better when Gach tells it...

Tell the joke already!

Oy I spilled my Manishevitz!

Use some club soda darlink...

And Moshe says...

Listen, this is good!

He looks at Hymie and says...

Tell it already!

"Is that all you people ever think about?"

Is what all I ever think about?

Not you... Hymie!

Hymie's here?

No, it's the line punch!

You mean the punch line!

What is... Hymie's here?

No, the other one!

Oy, chapa baka chupa chacha... and then they all lapse back into Hebrew, talking nonstop, until they all laugh at the same time again and my ex makes him tell another joke in English to me.

Oh god I do not wanna hear another one! I excuse myself and use the bathroom, and wonder how long my ex wants to stay. Remember, she said a couple of hours.

I join another group, the last one of the evening, because that one encircles the alcohol table. Now it doesn't matter what they say, I'm talking to my Sauterne.

Months later I look at the clock and walk over to my ex, who is flirting with a guy 30 years younger than her. "Ready to go, dear? It's been 9 hours."

"No... but you can go... Snick's gonna give me a ride home." Snick. I must've missed that one.

I say good night to the hosts and head for my car, massively relieved, and proud of myself for just rolling with it all evening. I'm almost there when I hear running behind me. It's my ex.

"I thought the stud was giving you a ride." I alluded to her banging the kid, but she missed it.

"No, I can't. I don't have diapers his size at my house." So she DIDN'T miss it. Yay for her!

So I drove her home and we said good night. Very calm.

The next day she was bubbly on the phone, about how cool I was at the party. I admit it felt good to hear her saying nice things about me-- it's a very rare thing, and reminiscent of our early time together. 

I remember our arguments of the past; how I was blaming her over-the-top embarrassing behavior at parties or in public. Suddenly I feel I can see her side! Scary! She's just having fun and being funny, and out of the blue I come at her with a bad mood because I feel she's making a fool of herself, and of me because of our marriage connection.

I didn't feel like doing that at the party. I felt at peace and I was enjoying my role as observer of the Gorillas In The Mist. It's a role I should adopt more often when with my ex at events-- I feel complete calm at those times, as though I were watching her on a TV, remote, detached.

Let's see if it works at our next all-Americans party...