Some Days…

Some days I’m sick of turning the other cheek.

I want to scream from the rooftops about the injustice of what has happened. I want to wail about the fact that my husband is off on vacation with another woman…living…without me. I want to bemoan being a single mother. I want to explode at the fact that this person who used to share my life wants to include “her” in my children’s lives and activities. I want to spoon my mental eye out when I think about all of them together.

And I want to cry at the deep and forever loss of the man who used to be. Because, he’s gone. And that is really, really sad.

I’m worn out.

I’m tired of having to search for the beautiful everyday.

I’d like it to just be there.

I’d like to tell you that I just wake up positive every day. And that I know it will be okay every day. And that I’m okay every day.

But, some days, that’s just not true. Some days it is still so hard to get out of bed (if I make in there at all in the first place). Some days I honestly think it’s just not worth the effort to be the better person.

Some days…it’s so easy to forget that I’ve already made it through some pretty tough crap.

Some days, this is all that gets me through.

Hopefully, it keeps being enough.

 

Advertisements

How Do I Make You Remember Me?

I’ve been so convinced for so long that if I could just get him to remember who I am, he’d snap out of it. Talking myself into the fact that everything that was broken could be mended.

And the kids would have a dad again.

And I would have my beautiful life back.

And she would not exist in our world.

And I would wake up with the starlight back in my eyes.

Pretty fantasy. Inconceivable goals. Not going to happen.

No, not because he won’t remember me.

But because I finally understand. I don’t need him to remember me.

I need to remember me.

The sadness is still heavy, but I’m shouldering it…and truly getting ready to lay my burden down. I’ve been chipping away at the shackles holding my wings and I can feel them starting to beat in the wind again. I am breaking the concrete that has encased me for so long and watching the tender sprouts shoot through the fresh soil. The air filling my lungs is sweet and thick with nourishment. The sunlight feels warm against my skin and the food I eat continues to reveal a new flavor each day.

I am starting to live again.

I wish I could tell you how I began to understand the need to readjust the pronouns in that sentence. To look at who I was actually speaking to. To hold up a mirror. But I’m pretty sure there is no trick to it. And no short cut, either. Sorry. It comes down to is time. It is patience. It is perseverance. It is forgiveness. And it is focusing on gratitude. That is what eventually propels us forward.

It is that difficult and that simple all at once. I know it’s frustrating to hear, but don’t stop. The finish line is there amongst the pain, somewhere. And it will blindside you as completely as the starting line did. There is no warning. One day you will look around and be there. All you have to do is keep moving.

And life won’t be perfect…but life never is.

And the children will have the dad he chooses to be. And the dad they choose to accept.

And I will have my beautiful life back. My life is beautiful because I choose to make it so.

And she will exist forever and always in “our” world…even if he came walking back through that door. But she doesn’t have to exist in MY world.

And I am beginning to wake up with starlight in my eyes…looking for the joy in each new day, because it is a gift that I choose not to ignore.

And, he will wake up someday. He will snap out of it. He will remember me.

But I am the one who is a pretty fantasy. An inconceivable goal. Not going to happen.

Because I have chosen to forget who he was. And remember who he is.

Because I finally remember who I am.

And he’s not good enough for me.

 

Two Steps Back

Does anyone else remember growing up when phone numbers were just the seven digits without the area code? How about when the first two numbers were letters? Rotary phones? I digress…

I have a different area code on my cellphone than my husband.

He is one of the only people I know that has the area code he has.

Today at work, I received a phone call from a gentleman with the same area code.

He left a message on my voice mail.

I retrieved the message and wrote down his number.

I hung up the phone.

I picked it back up to return the call.

I entered the area code.

I then proceeded to dial my husband’s number while looking at the pad of paper I had written this man’s number on.

Didn’t even think twice.

My fingers just dialed the number instinctively.

As I hit the last key, I realized what I had done and immediately hung up.

That habit will eventually go away…right?

Please?

A Healed Heart

During the past few days I’ve had quite a few ups and downs.

I am so, so thankful for the ups. My middle daughter made us a delicious supper and we ate as a family…making plans for our future together. I went for a long walk, outside, and enjoyed the fresh (and finally warmer) air. My oldest daughter is playing a game with her senior class where you are given a target and you have to try to get them wet with a squirt gun (or cup of water or something) before the person who has you as a target gets you. We’ve had a ton of fun trying to figure out where her target is going to be and protecting her from getting wet. My son is finally opening up and telling me about his feelings. He has some very profound ideas about what is going on.

My downs come in pin pricks during the ups sometimes. I think, “How is it that I’m even here trying to make a plan for our future without him?” or “We used to have so much fun walking along this path together.” or “Wow. He would have loved making a plan to hit her target.” or “How mature my babies are now…it’s so unfair.”

And I think the downs are more profound because I was so unexpectedly happy last week. (I was silly to assume that I would continue to feel that way…not because I won’t eventually, but right now, I know it’s part of the cycle.) My recent downs feel worse for knowing what the happiness feels like. It had been so long I literally forgot what it felt like.

And now I want it back.

For. Good.

I want to be done with the tears. Done with the feeling of rejection. Done with caring what he’s doing.

I want to move. on.

Everything I see and read says that I should sit in this now and feel it now so that I can heal now and not later.

And I have been sitting. And I do believe I have been healing.

But, don’t I get a say in when enough is enough?

Why can’t I just tell my brain and my heart to sync up and get going?

Is that so much to ask?

Apparently so.

The quagmire I keep coming back to is why.

Not why did this happen. I’m pretty sure I will never have the answer to that one.

No, my why question is on the manner in which this went down.

Why?

Why couldn’t it have been the “normal” way? Say, “I want a divorce.” then get out. Don’t drag it on for months and months and months giving me and the children hope. Don’t make us think there is a chance.

It don’t know for certain, but I think I would have been able to recover from that a lot easier.

Think of a kid who says, “I don’t want to play with this toy anymore; however, I’m going to break it into a million pieces and crush it until it’s unrecognizable so no one else can ever put it back together again and play with it either. I’m going to destroy everything I see since I don’t want it anymore. And then I’m going to say I didn’t do it when someone asks me.”

I feel like that toy.

And I’m sick of it.

This is not what I want. I didn’t choose this. And now I have to deal with this and fix it.

And it sucks.

But I’m holding on to this: I want to heal and that is greater than anything else.

And I refuse to let it go.

Because, right now, that is my greatest desire.

I want a healed heart desperately.

And, I’m not going to stop until I get one.

Phone Calls Are Tough…I’m Tougher

I’m sitting here listening to my son talk on the phone with his dad.

I have a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that his discussions are on the phone, because of the choice my husband is making. My children need and deserves a father. Every. Day. IN their home. Not on the phone. Not via text. Not for a fun evening of fast food and outings.

I just wish he would step up and be the man he was. And understand that he is hurting us all. Not just me.

It sickens me that they have such limited contact with him…because it is just a shadow of what it used to be. They are so hungry for him and he just gives them little drips. He’s not here for bedtime, mealtime, morning rituals, little laughs, small moments, huge accomplishments, homework, tears, joy, and every other moment that make up life. He hasn’t been for months. Even when he lived here, while he was lying to me…telling me we were working on our marriage as he was having his affair. He checked out a long time ago.

He could be with them, here, all day, every day. Just like he should be. And he is choosing himself and her over all of us.

I am not the mom who says you can’t see/talk to the kids. Yes, it’s true I want to know the schedule so that I can prepare myself if I have to see him; however, I have never once said no or not let them answer the phone. In fact, I go so far as to not answer the phone, and let the kids do it themselves, so that he’s not afraid to call the house (in case he has to talk to me.)

Yet, he continues to seek his life outside of his family…and then swoops back in and tries to strut around being Disney Dad. Do you have any idea how many articles of new clothing my daughters have received from him in the last two weeks? And valentine’s day was a joke. WE used to give them each a small box of chocolates…they ended up with a large haul this year from him. Yes, your wallet is what they need.

They certainly don’t need to see you do the right thing and save our family.

Okay, I clearly had to get this out.

I have anger and sadness. This is raw emotion. And while the things I am saying are true, they are not mine to fix. They are not mine to hold on to. And they are not mine to be able to do a darn thing about.

So, here is where I let it go.

Here is where I focus on the fact that I am thankful rather than angry. I am so thankful that my husband still calls my son and daughters. I am so thankful, that even in his immense selfishness, he can still reach out and speak to them. And he still wants to see them even if it’s when it’s convenient. That, even though he’s missing the real moments of life, he is still trying…even if it is in a manner I don’t agree with.

Here is the part where I commend myself for being both mother and father to them…full-time, even though I’m exhausted and hurt. Here is the place where I admit that I am strong. Stronger than I ever even thought.

This is where I take a deep breath, turn my hands over, unclench my fists, let my flattened palms face up and release.

I am letting it go.

I have no control over any action but that one.

I will repeat as necessary. (Which I am assuming will be often…)