Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Sidenote: New Tattoo

It means "she flies with her own wings." I thought it might help to have a positive reminder that I can do this. Suprisingly, it didnt hurt as much as I thought it would.

09: Tidal Waves

My psychiatrist often tells me what grief is like a tide, that ebbs and flows and sometimes crashes down like a tidal wave. That has been very true for me recently. I often pen these little missives in my head for this blog and find myself tearing up. So I try to think of other things.

I miss him. I miss his strong arms and his steady embrace. I miss the low timber of his voice, and the feel of his beard on my chin when we kissed. I miss how he would kiss the top of my head, and would be there to squish spiders at my request. He would always play with our cat and lay his head on him calling him a "Rumble Pillow." That used to annoy the heck out of me but now I find myself missing it. He was so smart, so steady and calm. He was my first and thus far only real love.

I miss his family, my neurotic niece and sweet nephew. His charmingly manic mother and her distant new husband. I even miss their chaotic family gatherings which normally ended with us driving home early complaining to each other about how his brother is raising his children. I miss over the top dinners, complete with fancy napkins and extravagant deserts.

I miss waking him up repeatedly in the morning, because he was never good at getting up on his own. The smell of his coffee, his skin and his breath tinged with gum and cigarettes. Mindless watching of Modern Marvels or Pro Wrasslin because that was what he wanted to watch.

I enjoy this newfound freedom to do the things I want, but sometimes I wonder if it is too high of a price to pay. Sure, I can now drink starbucks as much as I want, have nobody to answer too but myself, only pick up after myself, eat what I want to eat and watch what I want to watch. I have nobody to pinch my love handles and tell me to go to a gym. I am not treated like I am an idiot, and none save my overbearing sister makes me feel inferior. I am not told that I am unattractive, and have nobody to reject me.

I cry a lot less, and have less panic attacks. Yet, when I think of this as a comfort I am reminded that for the first few years of our marriage and our long relationship before hand that was never a problem. Anxiety issues, yes. Bouts of overwhelming hysteria related to his emotional cheating? No.

The next time someone tries to comfort me by blindly saying "It will get better, this is for the best. " Will mentally be punched in the face.  Fair warning!

This mindless babble was brought to you by Addiecakes, the kitty who has fallen asleep on my foot and the number Seven.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

08: Bad Dreams

During the time that he was having his affair, I used to have a very violent and disturbing dream. I would confront her in the bathroom at a party, armed with a baseball bat. I would continue to scream at her to leave my husband alone and beat her into a bloody pulp. I never considered myself to be a violent person, so this terrified me.

It was graphic, and in some ways terribly satisfying. I was unable to do anything to stop her. My confronting her didn't do anything but drive a larger wedge between me and my husband. Texting her, calling her..nothing made a difference. It felt like I was fighting him as much as I was fighting her.

I mention this because I have begun to have bad dreams again. Three nights in a row now. The first one was confronting him about the dissolution of our relationship. Screaming at him if it was worth it. If he was happy now, having thrown me away. In my dream he said that the sex with her was worth it. He even had a daughter, but with a former girlfriend from our high school years.

When I awoke, I was a mess. I just rolled myself into a ball and cried, my heart pounding in my chest. I miss him. I really, really miss him. I miss the good things about him, the way he used to make me feel. Before all this, before she came into the picture and refused to leave. It's not fucking fair.

I hate how the subconcious brings things to the surface like this. Just when I think I am making progress.

Thanks for listening.

Monday, September 24, 2012

07: Perspective

I went to a friends birthday party the other day. It was nice, to have a reason to go out and splurge on a dinner out and drinks. He has been a good friend to me during this whole process, and I wanted to make sure that I showed him that I cared.

Some of my old friends were in attendance, which made for a few awkward moments. I was asked to be friends again. I was told that they didn't want to get involved, but they miss me. "Look at you!" they said. "Look how great you look! You are much better without him."

One person in particular took me aside and said that she did not get involved because deep down she thought I was better off without her. That was really a hard thing to hear, and I think I kept my composure well. Part of me wanted to completely lose it at her and say things like "How dare you try to make that decision for me!" I reinforced that I still loved my husband, and while I am willing to give things a try I doubt we will be the same friends as we were. I let them know that I felt they abandoned me. Their reaction was a bit passive at best.

Perhaps my anger is misplaced. I don't know. I definitely do not feel the same level of kinship or trust that I did before. I doubt I will ever be as close to them as we were before.

Then there was the kiss. A friend had more than a few drinks and laid one on me, movie style. I was too shocked to react more than a started "OH!" and was completely caught unaware. I didn't solicit it more than casual drunken flirting, or at least I hope so. He is not single.

His fiancee does not like me. Not at all. Not even a little bit. I am too cavalier, too outgoing with talking about bikini waxes at parties. She thought the card that I gave the Birthday Boy was inappropriate, as it showcased Vegas showgirls on the cover with "Tiddy Rump, Tiddy Rump, Tiddy Rump Rump Rump" singing once the card is opened. (My mom picked it out, I swear!)

So this brings me to a uncomfortable place of perspective. This is how things started with my Husband and The Other Woman. A innocent kiss, in the heat of the moment that turned into more. I adore Birthday Boy, I want him to be as happy as he can be with his wife and kids and white picket fence. Would I have the resolve to give him up if asked? Is this how she felt at the idea of losing my Husband?

There are some similarities here, and it is making me uneasy. I know that I will never be with this person and I have absolutely no plans on pursuing him. I keep repeating that to myself, trying to make myself feel better. But even a kiss, drunken or still cheating. It's a vicious circle, and no matter how I try to word it in my mind it comes back to that fact.

I think I will just be here in my corner, sulking.

Thanks for reading.

Monday, September 17, 2012

06: It's Over

Tammy Wynette sang it well. "My D. I. V. O. R. C. E...becomes final today.."

I got my email from the lawyer while I was waiting for my mother in the parking lot of the local Walmart. (On a site note, I really despise Walmart.) I knew it was coming, but it just hit me like a ton of bricks. My chest locked up, my eyes started watering and the next thing I knew I was fighting back tears and had to cancel our mani/pedi date. I didn't want to be seen crying in public.

As I drove to my parents house, I had to pull over to let it out. Huge, sobbing cries that shook my whole body. Even now, writing this I am tearing up. I can feel the hot tears fall down my cheeks, and I am having to take time away from typing to wipe my eyes. I wish I had the forethought to wear waterproof mascara.

Perhaps writing this all now is not the best of ideas, I don't know. I only know of a few who read this and one inspiring person who commented. (Thank you.) So who cares? Right? I can try and steer my thoughts towards something profound and well written, or I can just let it all go and try and get some of this lingering weight off my chest.

I want to say "You won" to Her. She who tore my marriage apart, even after I confronted her begging for her to stay way. When I demanded, commanded, threatened, begged, and ultimately screamed at her to stay away from my husband. She sees herself as a poster child for polyamory, and even has a website dedicated to those who practice open marriages. I know many who are in them, and it works for them. They have always accepted my views on my marriage and never tried to steer us elsewhere. She didn't. She didn't live up to the pretty words on her site. She didn't respect my feelings about her, and about how she was damaging my relationship with my husband.

Though, neither did he. He never stopped either. He gave me one week that he "suffered" through not being able to talk to her. If I was smart, I would have realized it was over back then. God, hindsight really is twenty-twenty.  When our therapist recommened that he stop calling her, stop role playing with her, not be with her during our vacation in New Orleans he almost walked out of our session. She asked him if he understood that he would have to make a decision, and he did. He just couldn't do it yet. The reality was, he didn't want too.

He wanted his cake, and he wanted to eat it too. Then he would be angry with me for being angry with him, and scream at me that he was hurting too. Or be mad at me for talking about it with people. To which I would angrily retort "Then stop cheating if it embarrasses you!" Which really wasn't the best thing to say. That did NOT give a good reaction, and I found myself actualy cringing from him when he raised his voice.

Did I mention that once I got home I manically cleaned my apartment and now I am getting very drunk? Because I am. I am very inebriated at the moment, safe and secure at home. Thank goodness for spell check. I promise not to delete this post in the morning. Or, at least I think I promise. I am pretty sure at least.

I asked my Facebook friends not to congratulate me for my divorce being final.  A marriage ending is nothing to say "congrats" about. If you don't like to hear about it and you want to remain a acquaintance then hide my feed. Or, the third option is you can cut me out and be like the others who left me when things got rough. I like this option the least, but at least it is honest. I have no room in my life for friends who talk behind my back, or who abandon me when times get rough.

I think I am drunk enough to say that the can go to hell. Or suck my metaphorical twanger. Yeah, I went there.

I have been taking sleeping aids for the past week, but since I am drinking I will refrain. I hope that all this venting/crying/blogging will calm my mind enough that I can sleep. Since my cat is now demanding that I play fetch with her, that may be awhile.

Thanks for reading.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

05: Self Doubt

I have not been in a good mental state these past few days, due the the coming and passing of my eight year wedding anniversary. It makes me wonder why I continue to let the fact that he left me dominate my life. I still think about it daily, I still see my psychiatrist. When I see someone who is not in the know and they inquire about how it is that I am back in town, I lead with "He and I are not together anymore, he left me for someone else."

It's disgraceful, how much I let this permeate my every day life. Maybe that is why so many of my friends have left me. Maybe it's not a flaw in their character, but my inability to let it go. Who would want to hang out with a Debbie Downer?

Then I come to the thought of what would happen if he found this blog. He would not be happy about it, and would likely feel that I am painting him to be a terrible person. {Or be upset that I am implying that he would be upset..}I don't even feel that I can talk about it to my friends and acquaintances. For one, who would really want to read it? Secondly, would it be seen as a cry for attention?

Oh Woe is me! For my Husband hath left me for a poly-amorous slut, who is doth married. Thou twas not really an "affair" since they hath not yet done the nasty.  

Then we get into all the fun psychological talk and disclaimers. Yes, an emotional affair is just as if not more damaging and destructive than a physical affair. There was a significant amount of emotional abuse going on, and had been for years. It was very probable that they had already had sex, since he was pushing me to try an open relationship, to lessen his guilt. We had gone through several bouts of him not wanting to touch me with a ten foot pole. There was already problems there, before she came into his life. 

Every time a friend calls me to give me a little "perk up" talk, I just want to scream. "Pull yourself up by your boot straps and move on" they say. "You are stronger than you think."  I am just not ready yet. I don't know how else to describe it. I want to snark at them and say "You are not in my shoes! You have no right to dictate this to me! Don't tell me to move on, when I am not even divorced yet!"

They mean well, but in these conversations I can't rarely get a word in.  I think they are tired of my self loathing and depressed antics. I just can't help it, apparently. Is there a way to consciously dictate to myself not to feel bad anymore? To cross off the "situational adjustment disorder with anxiety and depression" off my chart?

I don't know. If there was such an easy way, then I wouldn't need this blog. Nor my shrink and the shiny bottles of sanity inducing medication. 

Just hang in there with me, let me do this at my own pace. Until then, I think I will continue to have these moments of self doubt.

Thanks for listening.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

04: A Chisel

I am making a effort to write something in this blog every day. I have to hope that maybe someday, some person may read this and find wisdom. Perhaps another man or woman in a relationship that was taking a turn for the worse. Maybe I can find solace in knowing this may help another person.

Though that is rather narcissistic, don't you think? I am no Pulitzer author, just a tired woman who is trying to make sense of what has happened in my life. Hell, with my luck people will start reading this and send me hate mail. Well, I think the way it boils down is this is for me.

I have always seen myself as an assertive person. Somehow, my assertiveness always seemed to get me in trouble. I would go gung ho against a social injustice, or something that I felt was completely wrong and be told by him to "just let it go." I would normally get upset at this, and would make a contrite effort to do so. Most often, I would fail in this regard and continue my tenacity with all the aggressions of a angry pit bull.

We're taking fairly big things and some that are relatively small. A conflict at the workplace, being denied a benefit from our medical insurance due to a loophole. My work trying to deny bereavement time because I didn't leave the day I learned of the passing. Sometimes, I felt that he was disgusted with me over it.   So when he said to me "just let it go." I would try.

Slowly, I became less and less assertive. I saw my tenacity as a tedious, annoying factor of my personality instead of a strength. I began to let more and more people walk over me. I tried not to argue (sometimes failing miserably). When he told me to do something, or to do something differently...I tried to do it. I realize now that this was the beginning of the downward spiral.

It's funny how I clearly I can see how the effects of the emotional abuse, how it started off small and grew and grew. Like taking little baby steps, or like a little chisel chipping away at my self confidence to reveal the ugly little girl within. Slowly, I began to feel like nothing I did was ever good enough. Everything was ultimately my fault. I was not good at anything. I was not a good wife.

When it came to her, he was upset that I couldn't be happy for him. He had found someone who he loved and could relate too, and I was just badgering him about how bad it was that he was telling her things that he should be telling me. He was upset that I hated it, that I resented her. He was of course furious when I slapped her and screamed at her to leave my husband alone.

....That is another story in itself. One that I am not ready to relive yet.

That is all for now, dear reader.

Thank you for listening.

Monday, August 27, 2012

03: Frenemies

He used to say to me "You have plenty of friends, you will be fine" in regards to how I would cope without him. That there were plenty of men who wanted to be with me, that I would be happy in no time. I don't know if he was saying this to make himself feel better or me.

I miss the friends I used to have, but not enough to go back to them begging to be taken back into the fold. My mother used to say to me "with a friend like that, you don't need any enemies." I don't think they are necessarily enemies...nor do I wish anyone any ill will. I just can not fathom how someone could say that they were my friend, when they just abandoned me when I was at my lowest.

I see pictures of them on Facebook, hanging out and having fun. Part of me gets reminiscent and melancholy, wishing that I could be there. Then I realize all those nights I spent in my apartment alone and miserable, wishing that one of them would pick up the phone. I remember being snubbed at social events that we were all at. Most of all, I remember this:

It was a Sunday afternoon, and I wanted to go to the discount bookstore in town. I had some books to trade in, and had hopes to buy a new one with my earnings. A group of old friends, one of whom I cared for very much was there and all took turns acknowledging me. I tried to keep my composure and waited for my name to be called. I avoided them at every turn, and was finaly cornered in the tween section.

Literally. Edward Cullen was a witness to my semi-breakdown. 

I received hugs and how are you's and they asked me what I was doing. Some thought I had moved to Milwaukee, which I quickly denied. I had thoughts of moving there, but it wasn't in the cards. I pointedly told them I was here in town. Part of me was really angry, but I did not want to lash out.

I was facing a very scary thyroid problem at the time, and was facing surgery to have part of it removed due to a growth. For some reason, one that I can not to this day figure out...I told them about it. Told them that I never went out, never played games anymore and mostly lived alone with cats. In some fashion I think I wanted to make them feel as awkward and as uncomfortable as they were making me.

When my name was called, I cashed out my ticket and almost ran out of the building. The idea of purchasing a book was albeit forgotten. I wanted away, away from them and the situation. In a near panic, I called my friend Heidi and she was gracious enough to allow me to vent. Heidi has been a good friend through all this, keeping me in the loop with her new house and family. Inviting me out for girls night or to her open house and letting me take it at my own pace.

There are others there too who have been great, friends who have reached out and done nothing more than a supportive squeeze on the shoulder to say "Hey, I'm here." These little things have meant so much to me.

I don't know where I am going with all this. I suppose I just needed to get this off my chest. As always, thank you for listening. 


Sunday, August 26, 2012

02: Zombie

Everything here is mine. My own books, my own dishes, my pets. There is nobody here to say to me that "No, that's mine." or "Is nothing sacred to you?" Growing up, I was perhaps given too much freedom when it came to objects. Not once did a parent or sibling object to me watching a movie that was theirs or using a tool. We all chipped in spare change to cash out for going out for dinner. We all shared books, coupons, food. So when it came to being married, I overstepped his boundaries when it came to eating his food, reading his books or cashing in his change jar for our household use.

When we adopted Zombie, it was after it was revealed that he had begun an affair with a friend of his. I had always wanted another cat, and lamely joked that while some women get diamonds all I wanted was a kitten. We went to the pet store and fell in love with the first little kitty we saw. 

He said that this kitten had chose him, and he was so enraptured with the little thing that it melted my heart. I called every day to check up on the adoption process, and left work early to run to the shelter and pick him up. When I cried, Zombie would snuggle up to me and lick my tears away purring. He crawled up my body at night and snuggled in my arms, his purring sending me to sleep. I had marks on my neck from where he would nurse.

If we closed the door, he would cry and cry until we let him in. He would then run to my side and sleep in my arms while he glared. "Traitor." He would say, or would scoop the little monster up to snuggle. Zombie always came back to me, and later on in the night I would find him sleeping on my head or just above it on the pillow.

I miss that cat so much. I wanted desperately to take him with me when I left. My little ray of sunshine, my little monster. He told me that this was HIS cat, and refused my request. I just couldn't do it. Every time Suzanne or my family asked me why I just didn't take him it was always the same response. He said no, and I couldn't bear separating him from his pet. When I moved out of our apartment he cried and cried, beating at the door and breaking my heart.

I spent a good half an hour with him alone that day, holding him and crying. Even now, remembering this I am tearing up. My parents were waiting outside, the moving van loaded. It was like this little cat, whom I had shared a mere six months with was a symbol of what I was leaving behind.

That is all for today. Thank you for listening.

01: The Hardest Step is the First


I can stare at this blank screen for hours, wondering how I am going to start this. What to say, how to say it as to not inflict too much discord or pain. Yet, I need to get this off my chest and start this healing process. There seems to be no real middle ground when it comes to my feelings.

Do I change everyone's names? Will it even matter? Who is going to read this anyway? Maybe Suzanne, who is my psychiatrist. I think I surprised her when I said that I was going to do this. It wasn't her suggestion, but something that had been on my mind for awhile. A way to express my anguish, my feelings of being discarded by the one person I loved more than anything.

I am not writing this for your sympathy.

I don't need someone to read this and go "Oh my gosh, I hate her ex-husband for what he did." or say "I am so sorry I abandoned you." or anything like that. Sure, I miss some of my old friends but I can not in good faith take them back in my life. Not as they were, at least. Sometimes you have to cut your losses and move on.

Perhaps this is not the best way to move forward, digging up the past and reliving it again. Though I have hopes that once I can look at this from a outside perspective I can at least learn something. Regardless of it is about myself, or about the situation it is something more than what I had to begin with. With that in mind, let me start.

I am sitting on my bed, in a one room studio apartment downtown. I am thirty three years old, and I have two cats. I have been scraping a modest living working as a banker, and with the liberal use of coupons and bargain shopping. I tend to go a little nutty every once in awhile, and splurge on going to the movies or getting a pedicure. I have enough in the bank to live, my own car and some money tucked away for retirement. I am also getting a divorce from the only person I have ever loved.

I suppose I have it better than most, looking at it in black and white. I have food in my belly, a cat sleeping next to me with his little paws twitching. I can't however get used to sleeping alone. I pile up the pillows next to me to give the illusion of someone there. I can't seem to sleep on his side of the bed. I wake up each morning with my side of the bed rumpled and his smooth and undisturbed. My cat Addison sleeps there most of the time.

I go to therapy about once a month, and I have tried dating but it is just too soon. The few relationships I have tried have all ended badly. I am just not ready yet, and most men are not wanting to hear that.

Work wise, I am looking forward to going back to my intended career. Interior Design is a love, a passion. All of it, from pain to texture to layout is something I am good at. I have thought of going back to college, but I can not handle the financial burden right now.

That is all for today, I think. I feel like I am dipping my toe in the water, getting a feel for the temperature. Let me muse on this, and see what else I feel like putting out there.

Thank you for listening.