We're slowly settling into a new routine. He's coming over in the evenings after work to be with the kids, and he's doing dishes and other chores like a responsible adult!
Our relationship is cordial, but love is on hold. I don't want him to know how much I miss him. To miss him less I have been spending more time on the phone with girlfriends; that helps.
Most importantly, we are developing new, respectful communication patterns. Though we know each other well in some ways, our atrocious communication has given us erroneous views of each other and ourselves. Newlyweds, don't confuse talking with communication!
I've changed since he last checked. A lot. One of these days he's going to realize the little girl he married has grown up, and he was too busy thinking about boobs to notice.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Iron Anniversary
So far I've been saving my delicious words of sweet revenge for this blog and my journal. I finally delivered some to him with the following e-mail:
I just learned that the traditional gift for our upcoming sixth anniversary is iron. (See list at Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wedding_anniversary)
This inspires me with a ton of good ideas for anniversary gifts for you:
1) An iron anvil on your head.
2) A rod of iron to beat you with.
3) An iron spear. You decide exactly where you would like to be impaled with it. I suggest your personal spear.
4) You're really into other women, so how about an iron maiden?
Oh, the irony!
I just learned that the traditional gift for our upcoming sixth anniversary is iron. (See list at Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wedding_anniversary)
This inspires me with a ton of good ideas for anniversary gifts for you:
1) An iron anvil on your head.
2) A rod of iron to beat you with.
3) An iron spear. You decide exactly where you would like to be impaled with it. I suggest your personal spear.
4) You're really into other women, so how about an iron maiden?
Oh, the irony!
Friday, March 26, 2010
ShouldaCouldaWoulda
Whenever the fighting in our marriage got bad, we both had to wonder: Would marriage have been better if I had married someone else?
His answer: Yes. I should have married someone with bigger boobs.
My answer: No. My happiness is my choice.
Our answer together: Let's have sex and make up.
Leaving that last bit alone for the moment, it's time for me to go back to the beginning and admit that yes, I could quite possibly have had a better marriage with someone who wasn't already a manipulative sex addict before I met him. But there could have been other problems. My husband claimed to know this when he talked about choosing me, knowing that things would be difficult. Since this was quite wise and practical and fit with the real me, I assumed it was the real him.
But it turns out, the real him was the love letter guy: "I need you, you complete my world, blah, blah, blah." That was fun and mushy, but I didn't expect to make a marriage work on that. He found out pretty fast that I did not complete his world in any way at all. So he took it out on me, and stuck me to him with more I-still-love-you talk.
And somehow, even though this relationship was all about him, we still managed to have something special. Still, taken as a whole, there's not much that's worth saving.
So I'm back at the beginning: Could I start over again with someone else and be happier? Probably. But I chose him, and I choose him again, not because of him, but because of me. That's who I am: a loyal person, and a happy one by God's grace alone.
But this time, no more needy love. Time for him to prove himself.
His answer: Yes. I should have married someone with bigger boobs.
My answer: No. My happiness is my choice.
Our answer together: Let's have sex and make up.
Leaving that last bit alone for the moment, it's time for me to go back to the beginning and admit that yes, I could quite possibly have had a better marriage with someone who wasn't already a manipulative sex addict before I met him. But there could have been other problems. My husband claimed to know this when he talked about choosing me, knowing that things would be difficult. Since this was quite wise and practical and fit with the real me, I assumed it was the real him.
But it turns out, the real him was the love letter guy: "I need you, you complete my world, blah, blah, blah." That was fun and mushy, but I didn't expect to make a marriage work on that. He found out pretty fast that I did not complete his world in any way at all. So he took it out on me, and stuck me to him with more I-still-love-you talk.
And somehow, even though this relationship was all about him, we still managed to have something special. Still, taken as a whole, there's not much that's worth saving.
So I'm back at the beginning: Could I start over again with someone else and be happier? Probably. But I chose him, and I choose him again, not because of him, but because of me. That's who I am: a loyal person, and a happy one by God's grace alone.
But this time, no more needy love. Time for him to prove himself.
Monday, March 22, 2010
New Beginning?
"I am sorry I didn't realize that the reason I thought the last year was going so well was because you were shielding me," my husband said before leaving tonight.
I could have kissed him right there, but my boundaries are up now. They have to be.
He's starting to get it. And I'm starting to get it.
He was literally insane for the past year.
"I thought the only thing wrong was the sex." Ummm, what?! We bought a house, I had a baby, he got promoted to a more difficult job, and (this alone should be enough) we were trying to raise a two-year-old. I did much of the work, and took all the blame, and he was blind. That sounds so selfish and whiny, but it was true.
He had a complete break with reality. He deflected it in all kinds of clever ways, with his brain and his tongue. This is all typical of addiction, I guess. I finally got a glimpse into the insanity, and him into the real world...I think.
I could have kissed him right there, but my boundaries are up now. They have to be.
He's starting to get it. And I'm starting to get it.
He was literally insane for the past year.
"I thought the only thing wrong was the sex." Ummm, what?! We bought a house, I had a baby, he got promoted to a more difficult job, and (this alone should be enough) we were trying to raise a two-year-old. I did much of the work, and took all the blame, and he was blind. That sounds so selfish and whiny, but it was true.
He had a complete break with reality. He deflected it in all kinds of clever ways, with his brain and his tongue. This is all typical of addiction, I guess. I finally got a glimpse into the insanity, and him into the real world...I think.
Falling Out
I've gotten over serious infatuations and short-term relationships, but that is nothing like falling out of love. Falling out of love is more like falling in love than it is like anything else. Being around the person sends chills into your body again...coupled with utter nausea. You can't stop thinking about them. They rule you. As I said before, that power, once given, is not easily broken. I'm convinced it will have to be if we are ever to have a healthy relationship.
Everyone's talking about him earning my trust back by staying away from porn sites and yada yada yada. But it's waaaaay more than that. He has to earn my love back.
After I finish getting over him.
Everyone's talking about him earning my trust back by staying away from porn sites and yada yada yada. But it's waaaaay more than that. He has to earn my love back.
After I finish getting over him.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Power
I went away for a few days, to a place I'd never visited with him. I journaled, cried, wandered around aimlessly, visited a church and took care of the baby. Oh, and I got a speeding ticket. Do they have an extreme emotional distress excuse?
I came back feeling completely out of love with him and stronger in myself than ever. I've lived with seven years of emotional abuse and a year of increasing abandonment during which time I had a baby. If I can handle that I can certainly handle whatever is next.
And then he came over. According to the terms of "The New Normal," a plan I had arranged for his evening visits with us, he came over from 5-8, did the dishes (for a change), and put our two-year-old to bed. And being with him melted me. I couldn't stop thinking of all the things I wanted to tell him but couldn't because I feel violated even sharing my pain with him. Once he left I was too much of a wreck to even brush my teeth before falling asleep in my clothes.
Tonight he came again, with his dad because I couldn't be with him alone. I was calmer, stronger, and we were able to talk. This melted me in a completely different way. He told me some of the things he was doing to try to prove himself to me, to try to win me back. I'm almost ready to fall for it and kiss him. But I have absolutely no framework for evaluating anymore whether it is the man I love or his addiction talking, manipulating. Both have such power over me.
I came back feeling completely out of love with him and stronger in myself than ever. I've lived with seven years of emotional abuse and a year of increasing abandonment during which time I had a baby. If I can handle that I can certainly handle whatever is next.
And then he came over. According to the terms of "The New Normal," a plan I had arranged for his evening visits with us, he came over from 5-8, did the dishes (for a change), and put our two-year-old to bed. And being with him melted me. I couldn't stop thinking of all the things I wanted to tell him but couldn't because I feel violated even sharing my pain with him. Once he left I was too much of a wreck to even brush my teeth before falling asleep in my clothes.
Tonight he came again, with his dad because I couldn't be with him alone. I was calmer, stronger, and we were able to talk. This melted me in a completely different way. He told me some of the things he was doing to try to prove himself to me, to try to win me back. I'm almost ready to fall for it and kiss him. But I have absolutely no framework for evaluating anymore whether it is the man I love or his addiction talking, manipulating. Both have such power over me.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
"Abusive"
I was so afraid to put that label on it before, but meeting with a marriage counselor today gave me the courage to do so. I've always been afraid to, because I have no desire to cast all the blame on him and try to make myself look like a saint.
But I can finally have the courage to simply say: I was RIGHT. He was WRONG. He still is. He still doesn't think what he did was that big of a deal.
He keeps telling me I don't understand because I am a woman. But I talked to his dad and to E tonight, and you know what? All men are not like this! They can make a choice.
This was an abusive relationship. I've been an enabler. And it ends here. And that's all I have to say about it. No throwing it back in his face, no acting like he owes me a lot because of all the years he's taken from me. He does, but it's not my job to make him figure that out. That never worked.
But I can finally have the courage to simply say: I was RIGHT. He was WRONG. He still is. He still doesn't think what he did was that big of a deal.
He keeps telling me I don't understand because I am a woman. But I talked to his dad and to E tonight, and you know what? All men are not like this! They can make a choice.
This was an abusive relationship. I've been an enabler. And it ends here. And that's all I have to say about it. No throwing it back in his face, no acting like he owes me a lot because of all the years he's taken from me. He does, but it's not my job to make him figure that out. That never worked.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Frankly My Dear...
...I don't give a damn!
I've always loved Gone With the Wind, but never realized I identified with Rhett Butler til now. (Separate from this insight, the words "frankly" and "damn" have studded my speech about this situation with amazing frequency.)
"You're throwing away happiness with both hands, and reaching out for something that will never make you happy," he tells Scarlett. That's exactly what my husband has been doing for a very long time, and it isn't just me who has told him that he needed to choose contentment. It won't matter in the slightest what he has or doesn't have.
I've been kicking myself for not saying, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn," much sooner.
But guess what? I did say it!
I've also been analyzing the point at which he crossed into deception.
That was when I said it, not in so many words but to myself and God. I realized I could never control his actions and had to stop trying. Had to stop knowing about them too, to protect myself. I started worrying about me, then, maybe for the first time in our marriage.
That's why the last six weeks were pretty good for me! After the first crushing blow I looked back and thought, "What a sham; I thought things were better." But they were better for me because I had finally frankly-my-deared him in my mind. He had to let his thoughts and actions take their own disgusting course, and now he'll have to take the consequences.
And other than communicating how I feel and doing what I need to do to protect myself without concern for his feelings, those consequences are entirely in God's hands.
And frankly my dear, I don't care how damned awful they are.
I've always loved Gone With the Wind, but never realized I identified with Rhett Butler til now. (Separate from this insight, the words "frankly" and "damn" have studded my speech about this situation with amazing frequency.)
"You're throwing away happiness with both hands, and reaching out for something that will never make you happy," he tells Scarlett. That's exactly what my husband has been doing for a very long time, and it isn't just me who has told him that he needed to choose contentment. It won't matter in the slightest what he has or doesn't have.
I've been kicking myself for not saying, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn," much sooner.
But guess what? I did say it!
I've also been analyzing the point at which he crossed into deception.
That was when I said it, not in so many words but to myself and God. I realized I could never control his actions and had to stop trying. Had to stop knowing about them too, to protect myself. I started worrying about me, then, maybe for the first time in our marriage.
That's why the last six weeks were pretty good for me! After the first crushing blow I looked back and thought, "What a sham; I thought things were better." But they were better for me because I had finally frankly-my-deared him in my mind. He had to let his thoughts and actions take their own disgusting course, and now he'll have to take the consequences.
And other than communicating how I feel and doing what I need to do to protect myself without concern for his feelings, those consequences are entirely in God's hands.
And frankly my dear, I don't care how damned awful they are.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Change
Something has changed in me. An experience I can't quite describe, between going to sleep after my last post (exhaustion has haunted me all day) and waking up not long ago. (Waking up hungry--something normal at last!)
Some kind of tie has been severed, one that needed cutting. I'm different.
Some kind of tie has been severed, one that needed cutting. I'm different.
Anniversary
He came home tonight and packed a suitcase. I couldn’t talk to him.
He doesn’t even realize it yet, but he packed his suitcase this time last week. (Monday night.) Actually, six weeks ago. And really I probably should have made him literally pack it before that.
To keep my brain from revisiting what I was doing this time last week and visualizing what he was doing, I am playing my new worship album, In Christ Alone.
So instead of wondering, “What if I had done something different to keep him home?" I started wondering, "What if I had been listening to this music then, keeping my mind on Christ?" It wouldn't change a single thing in the situation; it would only change me. And it can still change me now.
For that kind of change, it is never too late.
He doesn’t even realize it yet, but he packed his suitcase this time last week. (Monday night.) Actually, six weeks ago. And really I probably should have made him literally pack it before that.
To keep my brain from revisiting what I was doing this time last week and visualizing what he was doing, I am playing my new worship album, In Christ Alone.
So instead of wondering, “What if I had done something different to keep him home?" I started wondering, "What if I had been listening to this music then, keeping my mind on Christ?" It wouldn't change a single thing in the situation; it would only change me. And it can still change me now.
For that kind of change, it is never too late.
Our Unfinished Fairy Tale
Once upon a time there was a lonely little boy, and a lonely little girl. They grew up into a strong, intense man and a determined, loyal woman. They met and fell in love.
The boy told the girl how he had spent time with a fiery dragon because he didn’t think a sexy woman would ever want him. The girl loved him and wanted so badly to be that sexy woman for him. She wanted to give him her body, though she knew it wasn’t perfect, and hold him and help him see the wonderful man he had become. So she let him change her mind about boundaries she thought were important.
They got married and did not live happily ever after.
The boy could never quite see the man he had become. Because he still thought he was worthless, he concluded that no one who loved him could be much good either. So he decided the girl was not a sexy woman and went looking for more. He went back to the dragon.
She knew this and fought as hard as she could to compete. But it was a losing battle. This dragon cannot be slain by a woman.
And the boy did terrible things.
And broke the girl’s heart.
But after he broke her heart she saw the hurting little boy again.
She still wants to hold him. She still wants to be his sexy woman. But the dragon’s scales are too strong, its fiery breath too scalding, for her to even get near him. He will have to fight the dragon himself, and this time (for he had fought it before), fight it to the death, burn it, and sprinkle its ashes into the river.
While he learns to fight the dragon she will have to learn to be something besides a dragon fighter. Something she was meant to be. And when they can be together again, he’ll get to find out what that is.
The boy told the girl how he had spent time with a fiery dragon because he didn’t think a sexy woman would ever want him. The girl loved him and wanted so badly to be that sexy woman for him. She wanted to give him her body, though she knew it wasn’t perfect, and hold him and help him see the wonderful man he had become. So she let him change her mind about boundaries she thought were important.
They got married and did not live happily ever after.
The boy could never quite see the man he had become. Because he still thought he was worthless, he concluded that no one who loved him could be much good either. So he decided the girl was not a sexy woman and went looking for more. He went back to the dragon.
She knew this and fought as hard as she could to compete. But it was a losing battle. This dragon cannot be slain by a woman.
And the boy did terrible things.
And broke the girl’s heart.
But after he broke her heart she saw the hurting little boy again.
She still wants to hold him. She still wants to be his sexy woman. But the dragon’s scales are too strong, its fiery breath too scalding, for her to even get near him. He will have to fight the dragon himself, and this time (for he had fought it before), fight it to the death, burn it, and sprinkle its ashes into the river.
While he learns to fight the dragon she will have to learn to be something besides a dragon fighter. Something she was meant to be. And when they can be together again, he’ll get to find out what that is.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Daylight
Daylight Savings Time begins today. One less hour to the night used to mean one less hour sleep. Now I welcome it as one less hour of pain.
Violation
I feel like I've been raped. He was physically involved with me and 3 other women at the same time. He dragged me down into the mud. Can I let him be near our sons anymore? I don't know. I know I can't keep seeing him like I have been thus far. He needs to stay far away from me for a few days at least.
I need to go out and buy some things. I need to go to church. I wish I had an invisibility cloak.
I need to go out and buy some things. I need to go to church. I wish I had an invisibility cloak.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
7
Not one time. Seven times. Only one technically. That was bad enough, but this adds a whole new dimension of pain.
First, because I'm stuck in the land of If Only: He told his "friend," who I'd encouraged him to talk to about his issues, exactly what happened the first time, and his friend TOLD HIM NOT TO TELL ME. My husband has always been honest with me about his sexual struggles, often to the point of hurting me. I urged him to save his discontentment with me for talking about with other men, but the actual involvement of another human being in this infidelity is COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. Ultimately I think he just used his friend's advice as an excuse to begin dishonesty where it had never been before.
But if only he'd not listened, we could have had this crisis weeks ago.
Before he dealt the final blow of going all the way.
Before I had sex with him for the first time(s) after having the baby.
I wish his damn wedding ring had cracked then. (See page: The Ring.)
First, because I'm stuck in the land of If Only: He told his "friend," who I'd encouraged him to talk to about his issues, exactly what happened the first time, and his friend TOLD HIM NOT TO TELL ME. My husband has always been honest with me about his sexual struggles, often to the point of hurting me. I urged him to save his discontentment with me for talking about with other men, but the actual involvement of another human being in this infidelity is COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. Ultimately I think he just used his friend's advice as an excuse to begin dishonesty where it had never been before.
But if only he'd not listened, we could have had this crisis weeks ago.
Before he dealt the final blow of going all the way.
Before I had sex with him for the first time(s) after having the baby.
I wish his damn wedding ring had cracked then. (See page: The Ring.)
Friday, March 12, 2010
Freedom?
Just took my first shower since The Confession. Got dressed in comfy sweatpants my husband's never liked. I realized I can't remember when I last got dressed specifically with comfort in mind. It's all been about what he'll find attractive.
With him out of the house I can wear whatever I want. I can eat the things I like that gross him out. I'm free. It's a good feeling. Could I get used to this? He's afraid I will if we stay "separated." It's a risk, but I certainly don't love this freedom more than I love him. Despite all the anger, hurt, revulsion, and despair I feel, that would be a pretty lame trade-off.
The freedom will serve a purpose, though, in helping me find some of myself again, the self he fell in love with in the first place. That's why I decided to wear something special under my sweats. I recently bought this $60 "hot milk" nursing bra to impress him. I thought I'd put it away for a while because he certainly won't be seeing it for a loooooong time, but then was struck with a thought: I can wear it for me. I can wear it to feel beautiful, to remember I am worth the grovelling he's going to have to do to win me back. Because of my bent to self-hatred, it would be easy to think I'm not worth it, that I should just "forgive" him immediately. But I'll keep wearing my sexy underwear as a symbol of my own worth.
With him out of the house I can wear whatever I want. I can eat the things I like that gross him out. I'm free. It's a good feeling. Could I get used to this? He's afraid I will if we stay "separated." It's a risk, but I certainly don't love this freedom more than I love him. Despite all the anger, hurt, revulsion, and despair I feel, that would be a pretty lame trade-off.
The freedom will serve a purpose, though, in helping me find some of myself again, the self he fell in love with in the first place. That's why I decided to wear something special under my sweats. I recently bought this $60 "hot milk" nursing bra to impress him. I thought I'd put it away for a while because he certainly won't be seeing it for a loooooong time, but then was struck with a thought: I can wear it for me. I can wear it to feel beautiful, to remember I am worth the grovelling he's going to have to do to win me back. Because of my bent to self-hatred, it would be easy to think I'm not worth it, that I should just "forgive" him immediately. But I'll keep wearing my sexy underwear as a symbol of my own worth.
Religion
Because I want this blog to be accessible to everyone, I've minimized references to my faith throughout most of the posts, so I'll dedicate this one to making it clear that Jesus is the only thing getting me through (with some help from the baby he's allowed me to have at just the right time). And I am sure it is only through Him I will ever be able to forgive completely. My theology is deepening through this: I'm coming to understand the breach of trust humanity has had with God, and soon, I hope, the depth of His forgiveness, through the destruction in my marriage.
I consider myself a basic non-categorical Christian, raised in a variety of Evangelical churches but using in my own life a blend of practices for the worship of Christ throughout history. (Of Christ, only; to put it in theological terms I am ecumenical but not a universalist.)
My husband is from a similar background, but his faith has been a bit shakier than mine (not that mine is very strong!) for a long time now. He admitted yesterday to failing me spiritually. And I had told him, the day before, that this was a crisis point not only for our marriage but for his faith. I will stay with him if he decides he is no longer a Christian, as long as he doesn't cheat on me again, but he needs to make a decision about that as well. His adultery was only possible in a mental environment where he had lost moral certainty. E&M challenged us to decide if our marriage is valuable enough to us to save; I challenge my husband to decide if his faith is.
I consider myself a basic non-categorical Christian, raised in a variety of Evangelical churches but using in my own life a blend of practices for the worship of Christ throughout history. (Of Christ, only; to put it in theological terms I am ecumenical but not a universalist.)
My husband is from a similar background, but his faith has been a bit shakier than mine (not that mine is very strong!) for a long time now. He admitted yesterday to failing me spiritually. And I had told him, the day before, that this was a crisis point not only for our marriage but for his faith. I will stay with him if he decides he is no longer a Christian, as long as he doesn't cheat on me again, but he needs to make a decision about that as well. His adultery was only possible in a mental environment where he had lost moral certainty. E&M challenged us to decide if our marriage is valuable enough to us to save; I challenge my husband to decide if his faith is.
Is This Going to Save Our Marriage?
Yes and no. We're both committed to making it work, so our marriage will be saved. Does that mean his adultery was necessary? I wrestled with this question while reading this yesterday.
My husband claims experiencing this has helped him to value me more. We were both virgins (technically) when we got married, so he always had to wonder what he was missing. Now he's learned it wasn't much. (I wondered too, but I valued monogamy too much to let that get beyond vague fantasy.) I've no doubt he does value me more now. And yet, there is no way it was worth destroying the rare, valuable, beautiful thing we had just to find out how rare, valuable, and beautiful it was.
This will be the catalyst that saves our marriage. It is forcing us to deal with things we didn't before. Even simple actions I failed to take, like sending our two-year-old to spend some time with his grandparents so we could talk uninhibited, or shopping for music to fend off depression, have now been coerced.
But we could have done those things before. This is just the end of the road we were speeding down. We could have gotten out of the car and walked a side trail before we ran smack into the mountain we'll now have to climb. He could have gotten help with his sexual addiction before this. I could have given him an ultimatum before this.
To anyone reading this who hasn't hit the mountain yet, pull over now. There is another way! And either of you can choose it, if you have the courage.
My husband claims experiencing this has helped him to value me more. We were both virgins (technically) when we got married, so he always had to wonder what he was missing. Now he's learned it wasn't much. (I wondered too, but I valued monogamy too much to let that get beyond vague fantasy.) I've no doubt he does value me more now. And yet, there is no way it was worth destroying the rare, valuable, beautiful thing we had just to find out how rare, valuable, and beautiful it was.
This will be the catalyst that saves our marriage. It is forcing us to deal with things we didn't before. Even simple actions I failed to take, like sending our two-year-old to spend some time with his grandparents so we could talk uninhibited, or shopping for music to fend off depression, have now been coerced.
But we could have done those things before. This is just the end of the road we were speeding down. We could have gotten out of the car and walked a side trail before we ran smack into the mountain we'll now have to climb. He could have gotten help with his sexual addiction before this. I could have given him an ultimatum before this.
To anyone reading this who hasn't hit the mountain yet, pull over now. There is another way! And either of you can choose it, if you have the courage.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Day 2: Sadness
One reason I'm not glad I'm breastfeeding: until the baby sleeps through the night, I can't turn off the pain for more than 5 hours at a time.
If Act 1 was all about anger, in Act 2 sadness takes center stage. Overwhelmed is the only word for this. By the end of yesterday I had pulled myself together enough to wash a few dishes and bathe the baby. It seemed like the curtain had fallen on the performance of my greif. But as the it opens again on a whole new cast of emotions, I see this was only the first of many vignettes on the same theme. All I can hope for now are generous intermissions of sleep or numbness.
Someday I'll be able to walk out of the theater of my greif. But not until the show has played itself out to the end.
If Act 1 was all about anger, in Act 2 sadness takes center stage. Overwhelmed is the only word for this. By the end of yesterday I had pulled myself together enough to wash a few dishes and bathe the baby. It seemed like the curtain had fallen on the performance of my greif. But as the it opens again on a whole new cast of emotions, I see this was only the first of many vignettes on the same theme. All I can hope for now are generous intermissions of sleep or numbness.
Someday I'll be able to walk out of the theater of my greif. But not until the show has played itself out to the end.
Men Should Read This Blog
One of the most stunning things I've realized is he just doesn't get it. He really didn't understand the decision he made and still doesn't entirely.
Men, when you cheat, you are giving something that should be only your wife's to someone else. You are stealing from her. Even if she isn't a very good wife to you, her life is still very much about you, perhaps almost entirely about you.
Think: Are you willing to gamble life as you know it for that which you hope to obtain by being with someone else?
Men, when you cheat, you are giving something that should be only your wife's to someone else. You are stealing from her. Even if she isn't a very good wife to you, her life is still very much about you, perhaps almost entirely about you.
Think: Are you willing to gamble life as you know it for that which you hope to obtain by being with someone else?
Seeing Him Tonight
When M got here to watch the baby, I went for a run to pound out some more aggression on the pavement. Definitely theraputic, even if I had to stop for a roadside cry.
Tears...I've seen more of them from my husband in the short time we were together tonight than I ever have before. And in them I began to see the man I fell in love with. He still loves me. He's afraid to lose me. Keep trembling, honey, you're not in out of the cold yet. But you will be. Actually, I'm afraid to let him know how much I do want him back. If he knew how easy it could be, well, he might stop trying. I finally had to send him back to his parents' house not because I couldn't stand the sight of him, but because he is too broken to take the barrage of angry words ready to slip out of my mouth at any moment. Though most of those words need to be said, they can wait.
Tears...I've seen more of them from my husband in the short time we were together tonight than I ever have before. And in them I began to see the man I fell in love with. He still loves me. He's afraid to lose me. Keep trembling, honey, you're not in out of the cold yet. But you will be. Actually, I'm afraid to let him know how much I do want him back. If he knew how easy it could be, well, he might stop trying. I finally had to send him back to his parents' house not because I couldn't stand the sight of him, but because he is too broken to take the barrage of angry words ready to slip out of my mouth at any moment. Though most of those words need to be said, they can wait.
Alert
Nothing is safe in my hands. Anything is likely to get thrown in a bout of anger. Nothing is safe on my feet, either. I'm getting pretty good at kicking off my shoes. I give my last shot a 9.5-ricocheted off the ceiling.
The Darkest Bright Morning
What the heck is the sun shining for anyway? I thought the world had ended. I'm still hit by waves of nausea and shaking at the thought of all this. My baby is sitting on my lap. He might have saved my life.
I'm really glad I'm breastfeeding because:
A) It's my only motivation to eat (which I haven't really done yet). This is not the way I wanted to lose my baby fat.
B) Similarly, my erstwhile fetus is the only reason I'm not still curled up in my sleeping bag in a fetal position.
C) Let's face it, this is the only physical contact I'm going to get for a while.
I'm really glad I'm breastfeeding because:
A) It's my only motivation to eat (which I haven't really done yet). This is not the way I wanted to lose my baby fat.
B) Similarly, my erstwhile fetus is the only reason I'm not still curled up in my sleeping bag in a fetal position.
C) Let's face it, this is the only physical contact I'm going to get for a while.
Nothing Will Ever Be the Same
The worst part is losing my best friend.
For the better part of a decade now, he's been the person I turn to when I am hurt. He has also been the one who hurt me the most often. He knew that. That's why he almost didn't tell me. For someone who can't keep a secret, he managed for about 15 hours before he let slip that he had done something wrong.
It's obvious, isn't it, when a man says that. Especially if he had smelled of someone else's perfume. But I let myself hold on to the sliver of hope that he didn't "go all the way." In the middle of a day of taking a sick child to the doctor and a broken car to the mechanic, I couldn't afford to believe otherwise. I had to live through another day, emotions shut off, before we could meet with our mentors, who I will call E. and M. (him and her, respectively), so I could hear the confession with someone else's arms to cry into. I don't want to touch his for a long time.
It's typical of me to shut down, to take bad news with a meek downcast look. Not this time. I blubbered. I insulted. I threw the nearest object at hand at him, which happened to be a pillow. Fortunately I chose more suitable missiles later, my shoes. I would have loved to have had nine or ten more feet today.
Nausea overwhelmed me when I thought about it. I have never stayed mad enough not to touch him for more than a few hours, but the thought of sleeping in the same house with him made my skin crawl. I agreed to drive him to his parent's house.
After talking with M, to whom I am eternally indebted, I drove home, singing church songs to numb my pain and to keep my infant son quiet. Luckily for me the baby slept well in his little carseat even when I blasted a girl-power song while tearing the bedsheets to smithereens. Well, just the fitted sheet. I figure I'd better save the flat one for tomorrow. Maybe I'll shred the bedspread too. If I ever go to bed I'll be in a sleeping bag.
And yet I'll bet I'm the one who sleeps better tonight, of the two of us in this marriage. He's a wreck.
For the better part of a decade now, he's been the person I turn to when I am hurt. He has also been the one who hurt me the most often. He knew that. That's why he almost didn't tell me. For someone who can't keep a secret, he managed for about 15 hours before he let slip that he had done something wrong.
It's obvious, isn't it, when a man says that. Especially if he had smelled of someone else's perfume. But I let myself hold on to the sliver of hope that he didn't "go all the way." In the middle of a day of taking a sick child to the doctor and a broken car to the mechanic, I couldn't afford to believe otherwise. I had to live through another day, emotions shut off, before we could meet with our mentors, who I will call E. and M. (him and her, respectively), so I could hear the confession with someone else's arms to cry into. I don't want to touch his for a long time.
It's typical of me to shut down, to take bad news with a meek downcast look. Not this time. I blubbered. I insulted. I threw the nearest object at hand at him, which happened to be a pillow. Fortunately I chose more suitable missiles later, my shoes. I would have loved to have had nine or ten more feet today.
Nausea overwhelmed me when I thought about it. I have never stayed mad enough not to touch him for more than a few hours, but the thought of sleeping in the same house with him made my skin crawl. I agreed to drive him to his parent's house.
After talking with M, to whom I am eternally indebted, I drove home, singing church songs to numb my pain and to keep my infant son quiet. Luckily for me the baby slept well in his little carseat even when I blasted a girl-power song while tearing the bedsheets to smithereens. Well, just the fitted sheet. I figure I'd better save the flat one for tomorrow. Maybe I'll shred the bedspread too. If I ever go to bed I'll be in a sleeping bag.
And yet I'll bet I'm the one who sleeps better tonight, of the two of us in this marriage. He's a wreck.
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