Who am I

Social functions have changed since he left.  For the better, in that I am responsible only for the kids and myself.  No worries that he will get drunk, or I have to drive home with him like that. But it is hard being the "one going through divorce".  The only non-coupled in a room of couples mainly.  I actually sat at the "divorced and recoupled (or soon to be divorced-i.e. ME)" ladies table, much like the children's table at Thanksgiving.  Not because we were place there, but perhaps self-selected there.  Plus it was near the sushi platter. My kids were unaware, having disappeared into the throng of kids upstairs...and that was really good.  That sense of normalcy is what I am striving for, not just for them, but for me too.  I don't know if I achieved that latter, because I ultimately spent much of it having to explain how I got "to this point", but it was okay.  I spoke about many other things too, and by the time we left we had merged into that muddle mass of party people, talking the small talk, eating, drinking.  True confessions however forces me to note that after I went to bed, I spent a largely sleepless night, tossing and turning.  Feeling so alone and uncoupled and wishing I could move my life into the next stage of life..meeting someone real, being with someone again but this time in a real unit- not the pretend one fraught with anxiety but true loving and connected companionship.  I could dream, can't I?

Happiness..

is what I deserve. Created by that combination of events, and then perceived by me, if I let it.  The possibility of living in darkness for years on end is not the way I wish to go, nor is fighting in battle with someone I never wish to see again.

It is a hardline, right now,  that I must delineate between heart and practicality. I will put it to the wind, my fears and hopes, but in court I will say what it is I need with no tears or regrets.  I must survive and much much more, because I deserve to.  And so do my children.  It is what it is, but the selfish endeavors of one who would rather "live largely" rather than "pay up" his responsible dues, will not happen without a fight.

I am smart, and though not vindictive, will not allow the old cliche of exwife (with kids) "down" while exhusband and OW living in the "big house" through unkind practices.  Let them live as they live, its true, but let finances be fair amongst all else...as court ordered if necessary.  I live in fear, but I dont know what else to do, beyond the endless emails and texts sent requesting money, or clarification, or acknowledgement that I know will never come (nor do I seek any longer, from him).

I spoke to a friend today, one who has felt pain, pain too.  Strength in moving on, I'm impressed. Its what I need to do, to let go, to grow, to speed up to nowspeak.  My friend does make sense.  Its time to know that I can do this, and that, and the other thing. No worries. And to disregard where "he" is at, because "he's" no longer what matters.  Its done. And I can breathe, move on, be happy even, with no pretense.  The concept that I have been fighting for so long is that I don't actually need anyone to make it in this life.  I can do it.  Its a thought so foreign, I mull it around in my mouth like a hard candy.  Sour, yet sweet.  I can do this.

Oh wait, I get it.... 

Childs eye: minds eye

In a moment of clarity, I realize simply that why it hurts so much is that, he was my family in every sense of the word; from my young adulthood to now, middle age.  In my childs eye:minds eye, I never really understood that people could genuinely disavow any connection to you after that long term commitment, that unchanging fact.  It is a shock, one of those facts of life that resounds of innocence; innocence lost.  When you tell your child about sex for the first time. Or own up to the fact that there is no Santa. Or when your momma dies, and you realize the next morning that you will never, ever talk to them again on this earth.

The way one must feel when someone you love willingly hurts you because they consciously make the choice to do so, even after they promised a lifetime of love and allegiance. To refuse to accept and love your faults, as you would do theirs-- as you do for family; your blood,your identity.

To realize that even though you have known them as family the greater part of both your lives, that they say you are dead to them, book closed, as painful as if your dad, mom,  looks at you and says you are no longer family.  Entrance into yet another secret club that imbues its members that knowledge no one had before, or wanted. Cavalier: "No great biggie.. it happens", they say. And you are left not quite believing that there is no family anymore. Or love. Who does that?

Not Einsteins theory, but perhaps as complex even in its simplicity.  And to know now, that such possibilities exist, is the one my mind has had trouble wrapping around, understanding, or even believing.

Its time to move on. But to where? I have knowledge that I did not have before. And unsure what to do with it.

Monday morning and the new week kicks off.  No money, he was very late and now, at my original request, has transferred money to my new shiny bank account in my name only.  Unfortunately, and only after I made the numerous calls to ascertain what the (freaking!) problem was, turns out he did it incorrectly.  So now, I can not refund our son's lunch account at school, nor buy milk, or gas, pay the bills that are late, etc unless I scoop a little deeper to where I don't want to go, where I am afraid to go.  That sense of normalcy long gone, now I'm hoping for absence of sheer terror.

"He" is cavalier. The world is cavalier, though so many nooks where people who have experienced some aspect of divorce rise up, high enough to look at me with that mixture of pity and mild discomfort. "So sorry Ms. Xxxxxx-xxxxx," as they stumble over my now meaningless hyphenated name (emanating an identity long compromised), "but there s nothing we can do about the transfer..perhaps you can contact your...er..husband and ask him to resend the money?"  My stomach clenches because I so dont want to contact him again, to beg further action because I ant buy milk...because I jnow he just took his girlfriend on a fun across the country weekend trip, and then my kids to a fun "family" weekend away.

I'm left behind, doing, doing, the proverbial nuisance...with low self esteem issues. Are these issues of my own making? Or is it one of those, "its what you make it moments"?  Perhaps, because in truth,  I/we didnt stay at home those weekends, I went out and had fun.  But then, why (why, why like Taylor Swift laments), do I feel this?  Whats the magic formula to be well healed, beyond the crazy-making he is so callously and selfishly unaware/aware of making?  I do not plan to spend  years in this prison sentence experience. I am negotiating/struggling to take his power away, away, far away from me, no thank you very much but get the you-know-what away from me (why-why-why)...

Day filled with joy yet still struggling.


Whats wrong with me? It was a fun day, a day I could not have had with the kids around.  But I cant breathe now, chest constricted.  I'm tired, I just want to crawl. To bed and hide.  No Xanax, I dont want that... But I want that empty sharp breath sucking pain to go away, go away. I dont want anyone to see me, I feel ashamed.  I should be over this by now, right? As he says, I would hope we are over the fighting by now. What, so we can be friends?  He has found someone new, "babe", who I hear he loves.  He threw it away, threw me away.  Doesnt care he hurt me beyond words, beyond devastation.  My heart doesnt want him anymore, but I cant feel okay. Pain!! help.. deep sucking pain I grieve

Morning

My eyes flick open.  I'm laying on my back in bed, its 7:07am.  Heart seize for the feeling I am now accustomed to waking to:  loneliness, I think?  Sadness, for sure.   I ride out that feeling everyday, through my shower, making coffee, getting dressed.  Saving Grace, my children blessed are they.  Wake up! Wake up! We start our day, and after about two hours passes from my initial launching of the day, I start to feel better.

But today, the treasures arent home.  They are with him for a family wedding: two people I love are joining in the blessed commitment under Gods eyes.  Its real and happy, and I wanted my kids to see too, and rejoice.


Its so hard though. You know it is.  I want to be completely pure and authentic and say its all okay.  No worries.  But inner dialogue is batting me from the  inside out with wordless visual memories.
He's grabbing my throat with his two hands. Again. Stop please.  He is mad because I wont accept his betrayal willingly:  come home! Be with us! Stop getting drunk and commit to our family again. To us, again.  NO! And he pins me down as I go limp.  Again.  I cradle his face with my hands, and say softly, calm down. My heart breaking, his filled with anger, seeking retribution for crimes that he thinks I did against him.  Who is this man, my husband, my love and lover?  Gone, gone, gone.

The very act of writing this blog would be construed as such, a betrayal on my part.  How dare I air this on a public (albeit anonymous) forum.  such an invasion of privacy?  But no one I know is allowed in, unless I let it.  And I don't want to.  Its mine.

And what do I do if i don't write, write to bleed out this feeling of desperate anxiety? Run to the bars like he did? Like he does (I don't know him anymore, but its likely he still finds solace in the pubs he loves).  I don't want to take antidepressants to mask a feeling I know is probably the correct response to this horrorshow.  To be happy now, would be a little psycho, wouldn't it?  Unless, I can find the real healing I seek, I am terrified being in this mortal limbo forever.


So I write.  Not melodramatic iambic pentameter aesthetic illusory rigamaroll.
It hurts, plain and simple.   Later, I plan to meet my friends, though the kids absence makes me feel like I am missing my arm and leg as I hobble out. But I think I can do this.  I must and maybe this will feel like a good thing.  Popye, that great muscley armed dude who loved Spinach (and had a long time girlfriend) said it best:  "I am what I am".  And for today, that will have to be good enough.

What is the point of knowing what you should do, to find joy and happiness when all you want to do is change things back to what you knew, only better?  I sat in the car at the supermarket, watching people drive by.  One lady had a secret smile as she loaded up her car.  Was she happy about the mallomars she just bought, or was there a bigger secret there?  What was the lady with the big dog in the front seat thinking? Happiness? Sadness? Anger?

Its like there is some big primordial pool of emotions, and sometimes I feel like I missed the memo on how it is I am supposed to feel.  Like the piggy bank that I got when I was a kid, the one my son now owns.  Four sides, with the first side saying "I am happy today", the next, "I am sad today", "angry", "silly".  Why is there no side that says, "I am conflicted today", with my face cross-eyed and grimaced?

My girl came home crying one day, "Mama, I know a secret, but you can't tell anyone".  "What is it baby?"  Sobs, hugs with little arms wrapping mine.  She knows too much.  The Daddy and the girlfriend, this married woman who doesnt care if she is hurting her homefront too.  Hasnt for a long time, because they have been together a long time, certainly when he was here at home. And now,  Daddy likes scented candles all through his apartment.

How does this make me feel?  I know my heart breaks for my little girl.  And angry that he would do this to her.  Knowing, he will never know that he did, or if he did have a clue, would quickly and swiftly blame me.  And I know, my heart breaks for me too, because I feel so so alone.  Abandoned, like a box  no longer needed to contain things.  A square with no real use. But I know its not true, at the same time.

So there you have it.

I am conflicted today.

The Dark fire...

If you are trying to rise out of the ashes, it means that at one point there was a fire burning hotly.  The dark is where the sad shadow memories might live....
****


THE DARK

Loneliness is an insipid feeling that can crawl into the crevices of your sadness. 
It hardens like cement to create a casing of pain around a core of wishes.
Wishes for happiness, joy, freedom from pain.
For your deepest desires fulfilled.

Sometimes, in the darkest of emotions do my tears wash over this solid lump of nothing,
acid washing the surface.  It is then do I question the why. 

Why feel this pain, the inimitable sorrow,
to move it forward to a goal I want to touch.

I seek blindly forward like a woman who cannot see.  It angers me for a victim
I do not wish to be.  To break free and smash this lump to bits so I might
free the joy locked within and
face the unknown of all that I know not.

Others, many others have travelled this way.  I walk along side--
but some are running down the road past me, others
crawling on their knees.  Not I.

I will face the unknown bravely if I can.  And
remind myself of the goodness and value that is within me.

To let my storyline be filled with happiness and the confidence that all will be well
for me.
To be done with the sorrow that continues to seek me out.

To be done.

In the meantime, I will seek prayer and guidance from my sources of strength in my moments of weakness.  My life feels frozen in repose as though waiting, waiting for release....I must let it be done
wherever it goes I know not. 
But done it must be.

Day ONE

...There was the ant.  And although she did not know it, she was good.  For many years she roamed the earth, and spent much time seeking, but seeking what, she didn't know.  She only knew that when she found it, it would show that she was good.

The problem was, that no matter where she went, that good thing was not there.  Not under the rocks, not under the sand, not under the sea.  Not even in the mirror, sometimes.  Sometimes, she did know though, that little points of inspiration would sprout out from under her nails.  People might laugh, her momma might smile, and then it was Spring!

Years past, and one day, she met someone who looked like her.  He was sad too, and was looking for that good thing, just like her!  Although they were different; he a grasshopper, and she, an ant, he felt like home.  Its true, he had different clothes, and liked different favorite things, but they had much in common. The funny thing was, he had been looking under different rocks, sand, and waters too, to find the thing that would make him good.  But it didnt matter, because they both understood what they wanted.  What luck! What fortune!  Love was the fruit, and security, and surety.  

It wasnt all roses though, at least not one without thorns.  Those spikey little stems, would sometimes draw blood, or tears..but it was okay, because he was still here. And they knew that spikes, tears, and droplets of blood were small prices to pay for someone like your family, as they now were.

After awhile, little children came.  And it was good.  The spikes were still there, but now the laughter of their treasures shadowed the harsh points.  It was tiring, and more stuff had to be done.  And sometimes, often times, those things were done out of balance between the grasshopper and the ant. 

The grasshopper in this story worked hard though, but only in the things that the grasshopper wanted.  The ant worked hard too, and sometimes felt that her load was too heavy.  But it was okay, even if things felt unfair because they were family, the ant and grasshopper with their little children.

Years passed.  And as the treasures began to shine even more brightly, the thorns that had been there before began to hurt more.  The softness of the earlier life was becoming matted, you see, and the shiny brightness of the family was now being worn down to a warm golden glow, that while nice,wasn't  shiny and new anymore.

The ant was getting upset because the grasshopper seemed to want to play his violin in the fields more and more, leaving the ant alone more and more to take care of the farm by herself.  Resentment grew, until the ant herself could not understand why she was always tired, angry and lonely.  

It must be me, she thought, and went to the doctor, the therapist, her friends.  But deep inside, she was getting more and more mad at the grasshopper, who was still working hard but playing in the fields too.  He didn't understand why the ant was mad, but he was starting to get mad too, because he didn't want to be bothered by the ant anymore.  "That darn ant," he would think, "if she would only go away, then everything would be alright".

The grasshopper talked to his friends in the field, and they agreed with him.  "That ant, she is so, so mean!  You can find a much nicer bug here with us!"  The poor ant, had no idea that the grasshopper was even thinking of such a thing- she only knew that she was really unhappy.  "Why can't he be nice?" she thought, "and help me get our house all nice and ready so we can finally rest and play?".

In the end, it didn't matter because the grasshopper would get tired of the ant no matter what.   Eventually, after much sadness and frustration, the grasshopper realized that the good thing he had been seeking originally, wasn't here with the ant. You see, the grasshopper still had not yet realized that the good thing he wanted so badly was not in any field, or under any rock... But went to look there any way, convinced that that good thing was something hard and real to the touch.

And the ant, after all these years, started to remember what her journey had really supposed to have been about.  

She forgot that the real lesson she was always meant to learn in her searches was that she was, and always had been, good.  And while that knowledge was not something hard and real to touch, she realized that it was more solid and important than anything else she had encountered before (along with their treasures).

 In fact, it was good.