On the Other Side

The name of this blog didn’t seem to fit. My husband and I have made a new start. And that seems to be the point.

This is a different marriage.

I still can’t wear my first wedding ring. The thought rather makes me ill. That marriage fell apart in a slow drawn out process. I saw it and refused to believe. I found reasons to stay, until there weren’t any. The incoming tide washed our castle away. As it crumbled we raised our kids and pretended it wasn’t happening with every lap of the tide.

When I started this blog, I had no idea where we were going.  I did know I couldn’t do it anymore. See house with chain link fence (I hate painting fences) the dogs, cats, grandchildren running in the yard. It looked close to perfect I suppose. Curb appeal with no real structure to support it.

Last Valentine’s Day all I wanted was to be away from my husband. The poor sot was making an effort, in all the wrong directions. Me? I had no idea what to say to him anymore. We spoke different languages. Venus and Mars. I wasn’t even allowing him to touch me beyond a hug. How very smashed I was.

This year? We’ve started work on a new marriage. We both seem to understand how fragile, and precious a marriage is. Rather like a newborn infant. Marriage takes constant attention, nurturing and above all mutual respect. Perhaps this time we won’t get so wrapped up in life we forget to take care of us. Really, take care of us.

This morning, on my way home from work, I was hoping I didn’t miss him. That he hadn’t left for work before I got home. I just wanted to see and hold him. So, very, different from last year.

I’m not smashed, not totally inflated yet, but not smashed. And god it feels so much better here than it was there. Here there is hope. Something I thought had abandoned me.  I’m so glad I gathered the nerve to walk out into the unknown. I didn’t know this is where I would be. I just knew I couldn’t be there anymore.

It’s good to be on this side.

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Muddling, Trudging, em, Getting Through.

I think a lot about coming here, and then I find a reason not to. I’m not really sure why. Maybe because I’m not skipping through the daisies all happily ever after. Or perhaps because I don’t like to dwell or whine. More than likely it’s a combination.

It’s been about a year since my life was blown to hell, not that it was good before…cuz it wasn’t. It all rather sucked and I was planning my escape. Nothing can prepare one to find out their spouse has been unfaithful. The manner of the betrayal isn’t nearly as painful as the betrayal itself.

My trust in my husband was complete. It sounds silly  now. How we enter into a contract with another person and give them everything in a basket, topped with an elaborate bow. In a mere mortal. A flesh and blood human with all the wonder and flaw that makes us so completely frustrating creatures. Starry-eyed and in love it never occurs how completely venerable we are.

Trust is hard won and so easily destroyed. At this point forgiveness isn’t at issue. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t forgiven him. The trust? Now that’s fragile, a paper thin sliver of glass. Full of promise and hope as easy to fracture as spun sugar. I wish I could say, it’s over, I’m good, we’re good, but I just can’t. And the up coming anniversary has me very shaken.

The world before; he would never do anything close to cheating on me.

The world after; it happened. The unthinkable happened, and my view of the world will never be the same.

How could it? Do I think he’ll repeat the behavior? No, I don’t. The wound is still there. Healing ever so slowly it stretches the limits of my patience to places I didn’t think they could go.  It isn’t about him anymore. It’s about healing me. And you know what? I suck at it.

I’m doing the best I know how and the going is so slow. I suppose I’m holding myself to some unachievable standard by comparing my situation to  other people I know. And that’s pretty damned stupid. One can never judge one’s insides by another’s outsides. We never really know what burdens those around us carry.

So, if you’re in a similar situation and you still hurt (not a constant stab or ache) a once in awhile, oh my God, I wish this would stop kind of hurt. I’m starting to think it’s normal. At least I hope so.

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We Made it through the Wedding

Most of the reason I’ve been conspicuously quiet the last few weeks is that our daughter got married mid-September. The weeks leading up to were wild, and the week or so after? I’ve been laying low recuperating and nursing a cold.

My daughter and husband very nearly drove me to drink. “Talk to your daughter.” “Talk to your dad.” were my stock responses. I swear the two of them couldn’t organize a sandwich without instruction. Me? I prolly could have pulled off the royal wedding given the proper time and resources. Back to point. This was my daughter’s wedding. Not mine. Not his. Hers.

He thought me silly for making her responsible for finding things out, oh like, the cost of this or that.

She thought I should play go between with the dad. Em, that would be a no go. Smile, they survived without me.

The only crisis of the day was not being able to find the ring bearer’s pants. We found the pants, but not his socks. A minor casualty in the grand scheme of things. He didn’t care about socks anyway.

Husband freaked a tiny bit when his boss called for the second time. Blank stare. Really? I told him to turn the phone off and let the man hang. It was our daughter’s wedding. Stupid manager guy knew that. No work crisis on wedding day. Husband didn’t argue. Huh?

He turned off the phone, put it in his pocket and we enjoyed the evening in peace. People you have no idea how monumental this is. He put work on hold. HUGE!  This is the same man who almost made me come home on a train, by myself, after my mother died, because he was stressing about what his boss would say, do..ack.   It is so remarkably wonderful, I can not begin to express.

It looks as if we’re getting closer to where we need to be. I gave him more closet space today.  Don’t look at me like that.

We’ve had separate rooms because of his snoring for years. He had his own closet, and I had my two. They weren’t both filled with my clothes. There are extras for the grandkids, and my work uniforms. I moved the uniforms to my office closet and moved the rest of my stuff over so we aren’t so squished. I don’t share personal space happily. grin

He gave me a hug for my efforts and remarked that he knew how difficult it was. Change, the good sort, is afoot.

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More Myself

The last week or so, I’ve been feeling more myself again. I’m not as raw, or as uncertain about myself as I was earlier this year.

As a general rule, I don’t care what other people think of me. The fact that most people ‘never’ think of me once out of their face is rather comforting and true. My confidence got a good thrashing when the marriage fell to pieces. Starting a whole new career? Insecure, who me? Em, yeah. I don’t seem to know how to do one change at a time.

At work, while I’m by no means as experienced as most of the women there, I’m good at what we do. Competent even, so if they want to make a fuss over things I do or don’t do, that’s on them. I’m done trying to make them happy. It isn’t an achievable goal. It’s better to enjoy myself while I’m there and pass it off to the next crew. I do what I’m supposed to, so they can bite me, or feel superior which they seem to do very well. Le sigh, no more dayshift stress. Done, over, not happening anymore.

I went to see a friend tonight. I had a gut feeling, which are never good, so I paid her a visit. When I got home my husband asked how she was and the only answer I could give him was, ‘the same.’  She didn’t agree with the separation. She’s not over it and I’m over her martyr nonsense. If she’s looking for an apology it isn’t happening. I don’t know what the hell she wants. Again, I’m done. There is only so much one person can do.

When I mentioned how defeated, deflated I’d been she gave me an incredulous look.

Really? Oh that’s right, you have all the problems. Alrighty then, you keep doing what you’re doing and I’m moving on. Sorry to see you fall behind. Shrug, there is no hope for it. She’s where she is, which isn’t even in the same universe with me. It happens, and I’m moving on.

I’m slowly reclaiming my house after leaving it to the men for three months. Note to self, don’t leave the men alone. They won’t vacuum and the carpet will be a nightmare. Oh yeah. It’s as clean as I’m going to get it. Shake my head. The kitchen cabinets are scary too. One is never sure what will fall from where, or when. Yep, men and cabinets don’t mix so much. Mine don’t get the ‘nesting’ concept of putting things away. I tried to teach it and failed miserably.

Tomorrow I have some clutter to file, toss or put away. If I feel brave enough, I’ll tackle the plastic container cabinet, maybe. smile

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Lingering Doubt

There are little things my husband does which drive me to distraction. Getting too uppity about events (mania anyone?) or when he allows himself a temper tantrum over anything. He’s listening to me when I put the brakes on what I will and won’t listen to. I mean honestly, how many times do I have to be apprised of the blister on your hand from the rake. Really?  It’s a friction burn. I’m fairly confident that, given where we live and the sanity conditions, he isn’t at risk for an infection of any note.

Red flags go up. He’s at it again. Maybe I made a mistake thinking this could work.  The moment passes and he’s holding me, keeping the world at bay and my heart sings. Stupid heart. grin

Disconnect notices? OMG! The man has only been paying the bills four months, and we’re creating financial drama. This is in line with his nature. Our daughter’s wedding is mere weeks away. Something this big couldn’t go down without a hitch. Where would be the story of martyrdom and how he swooped in at the last minute to save the day? Off course there will be months of recovery, but we’ll soldier on.

Blank Stare. Em, no. We are not doing this, now or ever again. If you missed the memo, I’m giving you notice right now. Knock it off, buddy.

Oh and let’s add the added element of the unknown. Will she leave? This is so old and raggedy. Want an adrenaline rush? Go ride roller coasters. I’m serious.

It’s bad enough that the person who claims to be my best friend has gone completely off the deep end, now you want to follow? God save me from this unnecessary, destructive, hurtful behavior.  Oh, but it gets better. Should I do what they think I will then it’s all about their pain.

Shake my head.  Chaos, Confusion, Disarray? Em, yeah, No.

At this stage of the game, it will be my way or the highway on these things. The bills will get paid and, gasp, on time. I will not listen to rants about what could happen or might happen. We will continue to work the solution versus the problem.  I have absolutely no interest in worrying about things for which I have no control. I’m not going to join you in looking for or creating worry so that I can feel out of control. Nope. There I go being unreasonable again.

Am I perfect? Screws mouth to the side, okay so I’ve been spending money I shouldn’t. Steps have been taken to remedy the situation. First, I don’t need to make sure I have everything I might possibly need for the next two years. He isn’t going to get upset at me, so it’s time to stop before it gets WAY out of hand and I’m the one crying for being a putz.

I had worked myself into a state of crisis which isn’t anymore. Nice deep breaths. In two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. It will be okay, no matter what. Find balance.

Do I still want to go shopping? Of course I do. I love shopping, the thing is, I don’t have to buy. Time to pull out the time-honored occupation of Window Shopping.  I might slip here and there, I’m human after all.

So we need to have a discussion about the bills, budget and the like before I’m throwing things in my car again. I don’t ever want to feel what I felt that day in March ever again. Happily Ever After takes work. Crap, smile.

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I’m Starting to Feel Settled

In fits and starts I’m starting to feel settled again. It’s not constant, still I’d forgotten how nice it is. Contentment is vastly underrated in a society driven by the pursuit of happiness. I wonder if Thomas Jefferson meant the phrase as we interpret it in the twenty-first century.  It seems silly, sitting where I’m sitting, to chase a feeling of fulfillment. When in the completion of our everyday tasks dreams are realized and happiness is the result. Happiness is normally felt when I’m quiet, not manic. How many of us miss happiness chasing a feeling so desperately that they miss it altogether?  Many, I’m sure.

I’m very content with my current work position. I have no aspirations to move into higher education for advancement. Yet, I’m often asked when I’m going to go to school. My take on it is, I’ve got the best of the job with none of the headaches. The pay isn’t worth the frantic pace moving up would cause.  This seems to be contrary to what many believe to be accomplishment and happiness.  All the same, I’m content and if that changes, then I’ll change my plans.

What I’m struggling with is reengaging at home. I’m here, but not really. It’s weird. The weeds are taking over in my normally pretty well tended flower gardens. There are things around the house which need attention and I’m just not there. Maybe it’s a realignment of priorities I’m adjusting to. All I know is it feels so different. And don’t get me wrong, different isn’t always a bad thing.

Depending on ones vantage point, leaving might seem the easy out of a relationship. When if fact it is devastating to contemplate, let alone carry out. What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m alone for the rest of my life? What if……ad nauseam. Staying is safe, difficult in it’s own right, still safe. How many of us trod on in silent, or not so silent pain because the fear of the unknown is so great?

I shot the moon and survived it.  I just wish pain and distrust dissipated as quickly as they appeared. Leaving certainly didn’t make everything better. It did allow for healing to begin. It appears as if this is a trauma only time will heal. I hate that, but what are you to do?  Time takes time. Blech!

Pain and all, I’m glad I made the decisions I made. It’s how my husband and I got to where we are today and there is great contentment in that thought.

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Priorities

Life is still getting ahead of me, and I’m dealing with that. At some point I’ll catch up. For now it’s staying focused on what counts. When I was raising our children, I never lost sight of the ball nor did he. No two children had more dedicated parents, perhaps as dedicated but not more dedicated.

A week ago today I moved home as quietly as I left. I’m still not unpacked. My office is a mess, but the laundry is done. smile One has to take the little victories as they come. I’m still scattered on so many levels, it’s hard to look beyond my prime focus. Our marriage and my new career. The house won’t miss me for a bit longer. The garden? Well, that’s a never-ending time suck. When it blooms I remember why I pour so much energy into it. It’s not blooming at the moment.

We have counseling tomorrow. Money is the topic. This should prove interesting. In the last year I was willing to and did walk away from all of it. None of it meant anything without my husband. He’s the focus or should I say ‘us’. Our children are raised, now it’s time to create the life we want for us and the means to properly fund it.  Us, what a wonderful concept; warm and fuzzy, as it should be.

What I want is for the sensitivity to dissipate. The world is still so threatening in my current state. New beginnings are  normally unsteady places. I’ve been through one or two of them. This will pass, I don’t have to like feeling emotionally naked in the meantime.  I’m exposing myself at home, in the firm hope our marriage is on a new, better path.

On the work front, I’m working in a completely new field at a new place with dynamics I haven’t riddled out just yet. People, in general, perplex me. I’m not going to spend a lot of energy beyond what I need to know to move through the space in an efficient  manner.

Things I’ve observed along the journey of work places. There is always a double agent. I’ve discovered her, and we’re as good as we’re going to get. Busy bees, there are many of these. You know the ones who are sure no one works as hard as they do. Therefore no one else is as competent making everyone subject to contempt as seen necessary. More importantly, I found the rock. Rally around the rock and your world is less likely to tip. I got a jolt this week and I have little doubt, the rock, is a big reason why there were no after shocks.

Wish I could find a rock in my personal life. It would seem my rocks have aged and now need support themselves. My only hope is to lean on my husband. This is a leap of faith so huge, words fail me completely. The risk I took walking out is nothing compared to learning to depend on him again, and that is what I’m doing. Slowly, cautiously, creeping forward, it looks good folks, real good. Better than I had any right to hope for, and that’s hell-a-scary. It still beats the pants off of hopeless, so I’ll take it.

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I’m not the Same.

I suppose that should go without much thought, or saying. Who is the same over the passage of time? This last year has made me a more private person. The blog doesn’t count as it’s anonymous and most of you have no idea who I am, or were and likely never will. If one of you plucked even a tiny tidbit from my rambling which helped make your life easier, then it was worth the effort of keeping this up.

The marriage is healing as are we. All of my pain wasn’t caused by him, so I’ve a ways to go. Saturday will be the one year anniversary of my mother’s passing. Losing her has got to be the single most painful event of my life. Maybe that’s what made it possible for me to make the life changes I made. It couldn’t get worse, now could it?  Having nothing to lose is an odd place to live. Or should I say survive?

There hasn’t been much living this year and a whole lot of surviving. On our anniversary, the 28th, my husband presented me with an anniversary ring and asked me to marry him again. He was blushing. I’m sure he gets it now. I said yes. Plans for the renewal are in the works, at least that’s what he says. I’m not concerned with his plan making, he’ll let me in on it when he’s ready, and I can wait.

Me leaving him with plans is a huge change. I sort of like it. smile

When we spoke about the painting project it turns out he had two projects lumped into one. Remove popcorn ceiling stuff and then paint. Em, dude, no way. The current color scheme is bugging the crap out of me. We paint and then worry about the blinkin’ ceiling. TYVM. Instead of arguing with me, he and I discuss how I saw the project. As in much smaller than he had anticipated. No fight? Way cool. Being heard? Priceless.

I’m going to go home the way I left. Quietly without much fuss. I don’t want a fuss. In the mean time I’m working through my current isolationist attitude. I’ve never minded being alone, I rather enjoy being alone truth be told. Don’t get me wrong, I like to interact with people too.  It has come to my notice that some persons in my circle like to whine and pole vault mouse turds. Blank stare

My emotional state is still on the thin side. I tire easily in the company of loud persons. My patience are not rebounding to their former glory, that’s probably a good thing for me. I find I don’t have the interest or the energy to involve myself with persons complaining about situations which were either created by the whiner, or are completely beyond their self-righteous indignation.

Life is short. Happiness is fleeting. Settling is no longer on the table for me. My husband and I were either going to get through this or we weren’t. So unhappy were we both I was willing to take the chance, and it paid out big.

Don’t settle. Dare to live the best life of your willingness. Failure isn’t optional, it’s certain… get on with the mistakes for the rewards they supply.

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Eight Weeks Out

In some ways this has been a very long two months, and in others not so much.

I’ve discovered that I create too much trash for one person. Steps are being taken to reduce that. Yes, I actually think of these things. smile  At this point I’m shamelessly spoiled by only having to pick up after myself. Being by oneself has some nice benefits. Okay so my space needs attention at the moment, but it’s all my mess. Somehow that makes it okay.

Today my husband and I are taking a step toward the hard stuff. We’re going to pick out paint for the living room, foyer and halls. This might not seem like a big deal. In my world it’s huge. I’ve being doing all of the home improvement, work, repair for six years. He wants to do this. Suggested it. I see glimpses of the man I married. This is a good trend. I might even cave on a color. Might. I’m a brat remember?

Rent is paid for another month. Hopefully I’m be closer to moving home at the end of the month. The longer this goes on the more I see how, as difficult as the decision was, leaving was the best thing for the marriage I could’ve done. Had I stayed I seriously doubt we’d have made this much, if any progress.

So I left with my husband and he says, ‘We’re only looking at colors today right?”

Wing brow. This isn’t what I understood, but I roll with it. It ended up being the same trip we’ve had eleventy billon times. WTF.  I’m done with this browsing stuff, and yes I will explain that to him when I’m in better head space.

Tonight really threw me. Our grown daughter is hitting some life bumps. He’s upset, more so than I am. I suspect his reversion has something to do with that. I know he’d like to collapse into me and have me make it better for him. Em, yeah, no. He really has to get over this needy crap. It does neither of us any good. Hello! I don’t want to spend the rest of my life making him feel better. GAH!

Our kids will take their life licks the same as everyone else. Do I like it? No, absolutely not. I also understand our time to rescue either of them is long passed. If they are ever to figure this stuff out, better now than later.  Honestly, I worked hard to make sure they had the tools necessary to make it on their own. If they misplace or forget them, this is not on us.

Someone (a man) please explain this to my husband. I’m so tired of telling him it’s none of our business I could hurl. Like you wanted your dad all up in our business at this age? That would be a solid, no.

Every time he pulls this clingy, needy, but honey the kids, bull-shit, hope for reconciliation dims ever so slightly. It makes me crazy. He misses me. I GET that. In the same stroke I didn’t bounce out the front door of that house because I thought a change of scenery would be nice and refreshing.  I was suffocating from fear, anxiety and his ridiculous insecurities.

There is nothing I can do about his self esteem or lack there of. Were I so powerful, this would have been rectified ages ago. I really don’t know what it is he wants from me. So far a life partner doesn’t seem to be in his definition, and that concerns me.

We have counseling tomorrow. FUN!

Sarcastic? Me? Really?

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I’m Feeling Like a Brat.

Our counselor suggested that I spend more time at the house, oh say like three days. I spent one night and now I’m at the apartment. It’s too painful to go back and forth. Sorry, I can’t do half measures.  If I’m here, I’m here. If I’m there, I’m there.

Problem, I’m not sure it’s time to be there. I was feeling good about going home around the first of May. After the sleep over? I’m not sure, and here is where the brat part enters in.

All I saw when I walked into the house was work. The cabinet fronts need attention, the kitchen is tidy, but not clean with coffee on the cabinet doors. He doesn’t see this stuff, and I don’t think he gets how important it is to me. The house hasn’t been vacuumed since I left [six weeks]. I had to clean up my bathroom and bedroom. Really? We need to come to an understanding about the house. He works, I work and there has to be an agreement on the house and yard work. HAS–TO–BE – I’m a shameless brat. I don’t want to walk into 40 hours of house and garden work. If I do, what was the point of leaving to begin with. That’s how I feel.

Then he made a small comment about a payment going out on a day he didn’t expect and how that caused problems. Blank stare. If you know you have a payment of X dollars, it shouldn’t matter when it comes out. You take it off the balance and go on with your life. Right? I mean what does it matter unless it comes out before the pay period you indicated, which in this case you should wait, how could this cause problems?  This financial thing is huge for me.

I simply can’t think about going on the way we’ve been. His views on this subject really need to mature. We’ve always butted heads on money. Was I naive to think he would grow up at some point? Apparently so. My heart dropped with his seemingly innocent comment.  All the hopes I had of going home the first, dashed.

I’m feeling selfish to expect so much of him. I’m feeling self-indulgent about continue paying the rent on the apartment.

Bottom line?  If I go back without working these things out, we’re doomed to fail. All of the heartache for not. Damn, this is hard.

Tomorrow I’m going to the house and he and I are going to have to talk about the hard stuff. Us getting along was easy, these sticking points may prove more difficult. Reminding myself that this isn’t about settling is unnerving. The compromiser in me cries out to take what I can get and reality draws me up short.

Brat, yep, that’s me.

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