Archive for December, 2010

I slept well last night, and even wanted to get up this morning. Booyah!

Good thing too, cause my eye lids are chapped from all this crying. Did you know eye lids could chap? News to me too. The things a person learns.

My chest is still loose, and my back is following suit. YIP

I’m still angry. This afternoon I came close to tears and refused them dammit! The trembling I had no control over. It’s good to be here instead of there.

Different is guaranteed in life. Better? that’s iffy. Different? Always.


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Relaxing the last week has been an exercise in futility. I’m no amateur at the art of relaxing. Two babies with Lamaze (okay so my labors went too fast for me to get drugs, still). I continued practicing my technics. I had to unwind sometime, right?

It took several very patient friends, too many hours on the phone, and bringing myself into some kind of focus to get here. My back is so happy with me you can’t imagine (or maybe you can). The emotional, iron, corset has gone for the moment and breathing doesn’t hurt. Praise be!

Is everything peachy now? Em, no. I’ll take what I can get. A loose chest is truly something to be grateful for. Never take it for granted.

Friends truly are a gift. I don’t want to think where I’d be without their support. Friends that let you babble between sobs, are wonderful. One’s that only offer experience and not tell you what to do? Priceless. Gems of the highest quality. Thank you, Thank you.

The world looks a bit brighter today, and not just because of the new snow. grin

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We went to counseling tonight. If it continues to be like this the outlook is grim.

When asked what I saw as problems, I did what I do, I laid it out on the table.

My husband then proceeded to toss up sorry-ass excuses for why he did these things and I need to understand.

Blank stare

Then we were asked what we were willing to do. Husband listed off something he’s doing already. I came up empty.

I’ve done everything I know to do, otherwise I wouldn’t be in counseling.

Husband went on a little tear about if he was the only one who had to change, yakakakakaka. Cough. Em sorry, fur ball.

I’ve asked him point-blank what I do to make him mad, and he has no answer. That’s easy to work with. Am I perfect? No. I can be damned difficult if reports from others are to be believed. So TELL me! How can I change what you won’t acknowledge?

All-knowing being that he is, he went so far as to say he knew how I felt about the virtual affair. My quick reply was, “No, I don’t think you do.”

I promised not to call names or bash. It was a stupid promise.

A dear friend listened to me while I sobbed and finally uncurled from the fetal position, when I got home tonight.

Gratefully I was alone. I don’t know folks.

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Today acceptance is a little easier to swallow, and so it doesn’t hurt near as much.

The lyrics to a song seem to sum up what I’m feeling today.

‘And now I’m glad I didn’t know the way it all would end, the way it all would go. Our lives are better left to chance. I could’ve miss the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance.’

And what a dance it’s been. No regrets.

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No, not Six Degrees of Separation. blank stare. That’s a game, and this has nothing to do with Kevin Bacon. Get with it people, grin.

The first separation? Political and Social views. He took a sharp right turn after 9-11. I’m not saying we always agreed on these things, but we could discuss them like adults. Post right turn? He took to telling me I was being poisoned by the media. Blink. Really? And you think Glen Beck is real news? Eh, and MSNBC isn’t skewed either. Nope. I don’t take to being told I’m gullible, so I stopped discussing any issues of the day which meant anything to me with him.

Because my Ego demands it, I collect information from a number of different news sources, on and off U.S. soil. It’s amazing how differently the BBC sees things sometimes.

The second separation – We all but stopped doing things together sans kids. I had no say in this; it just happened over the course of several years. I’m thrown a compulsory date night occasionally, once ,maybe twice, a year. Lucky me! Movie and Dinner is such an original activity.

The third separation – Unreasonable woman that I am, I won’t watch TV shows I don’t like. GASP! There are shows we both like and used to watch together before the DVR. Now? In passing one of us will say, “I watched the new episodes, delete them if you want.” Because that’s so emotionally charged. Once in a great while we can be both found in front of the TV. Usually this is shortly before the pass off of the remote, and one of us leaves.

The fourth separation – He started washing his own clothes. What am I complaining about you ask? I didn’t complain one little bit. When I got told ‘Don’t wash my clothes’ in a terse tone it became more. Why doesn’t he want me to help? The last time I washed for him? “I didn’t ask you to do that!”  Em, no you didn’t. I was being nice to you. Remember being nice? No points earned or lost.

The fifth separation – our sexual interludes became further and further apart. My advances so often rejected, I stopped trying. One can only be told no so many times before one’s integrity starts to be on the line. I don’t beg–Not for anything–Not ever.  He told me he was in pain. He had a headache (so cliche’) He was tired. It was a long day. Ad nauseam. Okay, you don’t want me. I get it.  “Oh no honey, it’s not you. It’s me.” Blank stare. Could this get anymore about him? I don’t think so. Gah.

The sixth separation – He checked out on almost all household duties. Bills, cleaning, cooking, yard work, house and pet maintenance and keeping my car in good order all fall to me. If I don’t do these things or assign them to our son, they don’t get done. He told me he would fix the automatic sprinkler system. It only took four years to get it done. Finished up with it late last year. Yup, that’s efficient.

We run out of shower soap or toilet paper? It’s the end of the modern era, and it’s all my fault. Who knew I was so powerful?

The seventh separation – He checked out on me almost completely. We began to live in the same house with a passing hug and peck. This is so not normal. Our conversations, which are short, revolve around A. Kids B. His job C. His health.  Should I mention anything else it is quickly brought back to how his [fill in the blank] is far worse, less bearable. God save me from whining!

The eight separation -I ventured into the world without him. I’ve always had a life of my own which he was always welcome in. This is different. I’ve got activities, friends and functions I attend by myself, on purpose. I got tired of waiting for him to come along. Life is short you know. And he was good with it. Not good.

The ninth separation -I put my wedding ring in the drawer. He didn’t notice, if he did, he said nothing. Ouch on both accounts. The lie of wearing it became too much for me to bear. We’ve got a piece of paper; that’s not a marriage.

The tenth separation – My interest in cooking for him is completely non-existent. I’ve stopped buying him clothes or anything else beyond groceries I know he’ll want. The pain of continuing to take care of him when I’m not even on his radar is too great.

The eleventh separation – Your stuff and my stuff.  We have always had our own stuff, this goes deeper. When I was sorting pictures for the kids, I made a pile for him. His family. His activities and friends. Pictures of me were not included. I went through our memory box and put his stuff with his pictures. The wedding/honeymoon pictures are in the kids bin. Saved invitations and the like? In the trash.

Separation twelve (twelved is too weird) The marriage that was, is no more. If we’re going to work this out it has to be all different. An entire new field of engagement.  Clearly what we were doing didn’t work. Best to burn the damaged place to the ground and start over. Which takes me to the stage I’m at.

Separation thirteen (No, the irony of the number isn’t lost on me, and no, it wasn’t planned. – You left me, now you have to win me back. All husband rights have been suspended, indefinitely. I suspect if I get to fourteen[moving out] it will be a permanent state of being.

In light of my present position, I’m starting to think about what’s mine. What I want to take and what I need to be doing to get ready should #14 happen. Not a nice place to be. I’m rather sick to my stomach, if you must know.

This too shall pass. It won’t feel like this forever. For right now? pffftttt.

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Since dropping the bomb, my husband has been trying to finagle a promise not to leave out of me. Really? Em, let me think. No. I’m still here and willing to go to counseling. That’s as good as it gets.

Our kids and grandchildren came to our house yesterday. While it was good to have them all together, I was physically ill by the time they left. The effort of presenting a brave face, even for them, was too much. I’ve been acting as if for so long doing so moving forward simply isn’t an option.

We were supposed to go to our daughter’s house this morning. I sent my husband and son without me. I won’t be going to my brother-in-law’s tomorrow either. I don’t have the energy or the wear-with-all to watch my husband pretend everything’s fine when nothing could be farther from the truth.

Now, after years of me nagging, he wants to be the man he should have been all along. Desperate promises and a long string of empty apologies have flowed. I’m not interested in words. Show me. What have I been doing, thinking, to let it get this far?

He tells me there’s more I don’t know. Effin’ wonderful. More? More what? More excuses? I’m sorry, there is nothing to excuse what’s been going on. Nothing. My understanding is well beyond it’s intended capacity. I don’t want anymore ‘reasons’ for being treated the way I have.

Here’s the deal– I can’t, nor do I have any interest in, competing with twenty something fake-n-bake images. I’m a middle-aged woman, who has given birth to two children. Without extensive plastic surgery, I will never look like them. At this age I have things to offer so much deeper than looks, it shouldn’t matter. His outward appearance means very little to me, beyond care for his health.

There is nothing so bad that it makes it okay to abandon, emotionally, physically and spiritually the person you promised to love, honor and cherish. Especially when that person has been loyal and diligent to a fault. Did he honestly think I’d carry on no matter what? Apparently so, cause he’s scrambling now.

He tells me that he depends upon me. He was also gracious enough to admit this morning that I had always been a good wife. Thank you for those stunning reports Captain Obvious. The one-sided state of affairs comes into stark relief.  I’ve been so stupid to believe if I did what I was supposed to he’d come around.

Out of one side of his mouth he says he knows how badly he’s treated me. The other side continues to tell me that when the circumstances are revealed I’ll better understand. WTF?  I don’t want to understand. How will understanding help me at all? There could be no revelation sufficient to justify where we stand.

These things should have been revealed and dealt with before now. Long before now. Another betrayal added on to the heap.

He said he was sure there were things I didn’t want him to know about me. Em, No. I harbor no secrets, I didn’t tell him about the bank account, and he knows about that now.  Holding that secret did more damage to me, than to him. Secrets keep people sick, I see very little reason to hold secrets. I’d rather be hated for who I am, than loved for someone I’m not.

Yet, he tells me he knows me. He couldn’t possibly know anything about me and continue to operate the way he has. I’m sure he thinks he knows me. I don’t want to be the one to tell him he’s married to a stranger. A stranger, he only knows in theory. In practice? The next door neighbor [the drunken one] knows me better.

I sorted pictures for the kids today. We were happy once. At least I thought we were. Recent events make me question everything I thought I knew.

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Merry Christmas

I will move through this life with Grace and Dignity, because it’s who I want to be.

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