One More Step

Yes, somehow I still have internet. Fingers crossed it lasts.

I'm pretty much moved in, just a few more things to unpack and put away, but things are liveable. I like my new place, like the space and the age (16 years as opposed to 60+ which is what I'm used to), I have a dishwasher and central air. The parking sucks but that's fine. I don't know anybody here and that is equally fine; I think I like the anonymity.

It was a stressful few days and today was surprisingly emotional. J and I met at my office to sign the dissolution paperwork in the presence of a notary. We were emotional and then we just sat and chatted for a bit. "I just want to sit here for six hours and bullshit with you" he said. We made one another laugh a lot, often to stem tears. I then drove him to my new place to show him around. Before we left he told me he is going to start trying to meet new women. I was overjoyed and told him that I hoped he'd meet someone, that someone would be nice to him and would love him, that I really hope he ends up in a happy relationship. He asked me "don't you want to be in a relationship?" I answered, honestly, that I hope to avoid that in my future. "I can handle being hurt, that's fine. But I don't think I can handle hurting someone else again."

I brought him back to the office and got out of my car to hug him. We held on for a long time and I started crying, sobbing. He rubbed my back and said "it's OK, honey, it's OK." I pulled away and told him that I'd finally started referring to him as my ex-husband and that he'd have to start calling me his ex-wife. We hugged again and we both cried. I told him I'd always be here for him should he ever need me and he assured me of the same. Finally, we parted and I told him I had to go before someone from my office walked out and found me having a life altering moment in the parking lot. I started weeping as I walked to my car and it took me a minute to collect myself before I was able to drive away.

I wasn't expecting this. I think we were both relieved that there was no hate or animosity. No, this divorce isn't contentious, but it is incredibly sad and heartbreaking and it just continues on and on. I don't think J realizes that we'll have to go one last time, together, to make things official. But then, that is one of the reasons we married in the first place, after all, to make it more difficult to separate. We are good when we try, J and I.

I'll always love him and I think he'll always love me.

In Which I've Been Listening to Gotye On Repeat...

and don't care about my audience.

I haven't heard from J since March 24, the last time he responded to an email, the one in which he said he couldn't accept half our tax return. He can't face me, talk to me, deal with me, handle me. He can't respond.

I understand it, I think. No, no I don't because I'm not him and I don't know his feelings. I assume it's because he's hurting and it's too painful. Or maybe he's angry? The truth is, I don't know why he can't interact with me but I know it's because I've left him for good. I have to hope that he's OK based on the fact that I emailed him after the 24th of March to let him know I transferred money into our joint account for the Verizon bill and that money has been withdrawn. I cling to that and am somewhat reconciled that I'll have a once monthly reminder that he is OK as I'll email him each month with the same subject line "I've transferred money into the joint account for the Verizon bill" and I'll monitor said account to see that it has been withdrawn.

I'm angry with myself and, I don't know, the universe maybe, that whilst I know I forfeited any right to hurt and upset when I made the final decision, I still feel so torn up inside. I know what my role in this is and yet I can't help but be incredibly sad and angry about it. I'm not angry at J, not at all. I'm just angry. I go about my day and deal with things, all things, in my life, but I have this ghost or shadow hanging over me all the time. This desperate feeling because all I have left of J is silence. It's a constant reminder of the hurt I've caused him.

I don't think he wants me to feel like this. Again, I obviously don't know what he wants or what he feels, but I have known him for nearly eight years and he's neither cruel nor malicious. So I don't think he'd clap and be happy to know that the wife that kicked him out, the wife that said "divorce" feels... feels what exactly? Sad. Devastated. Worried. Wrecked. Terrified. Guilty. So, so guilty. I don't think that would make him feel good at all. I don't for a moment think that his silence is a way of getting back at me. But I suppose, if it is, I'd have to say well done.

Every so often it deluges me, just as MS used to. I remember breaking down out of nowhere and wondering "when am I going to get used to this inevitable thing that has entered my life? When am I going to stop freaking out? Stop crying about it? When will it just be a part of me that I can deal with and not think about constantly?" That's how I feel about J and our break up. I remember the relief I felt when I finally told him that it was just over, relief because I was finally honest and we could start moving on without clinging to something that was no longer there, the spider webs where a foundation once stood.

It's "funny" because I used to tell him that if we ever split up I could never be his friend as we were never friends to begin with. No, we actually dated and then were boyfriend and girlfriend before husband and wife. Now I'm facing that reality from the other side. I can't imagine or comprehend a life where I don't know him, don't talk to him, don't have an idea of what is going on in his life. It isn't even about wanting to take care of him anymore. I just like the guy and I want to know what he is up to.

And I completely understand and appreciate why I don't get that and why I have no right to it. I understand that, just as I understand that I have no right to feel sorry for myself as this was MY decision, but that doesn't take away the pain that I feel and it doesn't help me shutter my emotions. It still hurts, very deeply and almost continuously. I don't talk about it with my friends or family because I feel ashamed and selfish to admit to these feelings when, again, it's my doing. I don't even really allow myself to think about it too often because it just makes me angry at myself for being weak, selfish, childish, and awful. Make your bed and lie in it without bitching about what you've created.

But it's there, he's there, every moment of my life.

Anniversary

Dear J,

Five years ago we married in the basement of the Cecil County Court House. It was Good Friday then as it is now and you proposed the year before on Easter Sunday. We always thought that was funny, or at least I did, our getting engaged and marrying on religious holidays when we are both atheists.

I'm so sorry things did not work out. I know I'm young and have years ahead of me but I think 31 is old enough to truly have regrets. I don't regret a minute with you. I don't regret falling in love with you or spending those years with you. They were and are some of the most important years of my life. Even though it has ended, our romance and marriage, I still think/know/understand that you have been one of the biggest influences in my life, in the shaping of who I am, and I'll never forget that.

What I regret is that we grew apart and I fell out of love with you. You truly are one of the best people I have ever met, one of the best I'll ever meet. You have done more for me than anyone, simply by being, and I'm so thankful that I've known you and you thought me worthy of your love and friendship.

I continue to worry about you and continue to wish that I had a 24/7 webcam into your life so that I can know what is going on. I want the power to control things so that I can direct your life in such a way that you are happy, healthy, and well. I can't have that, obviously, so I just have to let it go.

But I will always love you, I truly will. You sincerely are the best person I've ever met in my life and I'm so sorry for the hurt that I've caused you. If I could, I would go back and never meet you, not because of me but because of you, because I've caused you pain. The good you've done for me is not worth having hurt you and I hope you will one day understand and know that I'm honestly, sincerely, and truly sorry.

I love you and I wish you well. You deserve so much and I hope you allow yourself to be open to it.

Love,

Cat

Back Bone

I hate that I don't feel for him what he feels for me. I texted him two nights ago saying that we are both broke so did he want to try living together when our leases were up. He, understandably, felt that this was a conversation we needed to have in person. We couldn't yesterday because I was drained and tired after work (my fatigue is back as I learned this afternoon), so I went today.

He told me that he'd hoped I would tell him that I wanted him to come home because he loves me and is in love with me. He could never live with me as a roommate because he couldn't have me that near without our being together.

I told him that nothing had changed. I love him but I don't have more feelings for him. I even told him that I'd considered just faking it for the rest of my life. Because I love him and want him to be taken care of and don't trust that he always takes good care of himself. That sounds so awful and I put it badly and knew it right away. I don't pity him. I just want him to be happy. In that brief moment I realized how ludicrous it was to think he could be happy living a lie.

I cried, but only a little. I don't know if he was only angry or sad and hurt as well but assume all three were present. I didn't apologize this time. For the first time in forever, I realize that I'm done apologizing for what I feel and for what I don't. Even though I wish I did love him like I used to.

Why is it so hard to let go when you are the one no longer in love?

The important thing, the one that makes all the difference, is that I understand finally that it is truly over because it has to be. As much as it kills me that I hurt J, and as much as I want to be in control and take care of him and make sure he is OK, I know this is the right thing to do. Because he deserves more than I have to offer. I'm a fine individual and I don't think I'm some unworthy being, but he deserves to have a woman who will love him and be there for him always. Not the 23 year old girl who grew into a totally different 31 year old woman. He deserves more than my odd offer to fake it.

Because he is a great man. He is intelligent and attractive and funny as fuck. I wish him the best and want the world for him and so I know that as unhappy as I would be if we stayed married, he would not fair much better.

So I'll take his anger if he gives it. I'll take any vitriol if he feels it. And I will always wish to have some sort of hidden camera, some magical power to direct things to ensure he is OK but I will also understand and accept that I am a control freak and that this wouldn't help either one of us. Because I love him. I always will. I have never met a better person than the man who didn't remember that I sat across the radiator from him in British Literature I until I mentioned I'd been faking a southern accent, the man I came across again because he scared me when he sat behind me in Early Modern Intellectual Thought, the man who asked for my number at Brew Ha Ha when he was twenty minutes late to work .

He is the best person I've ever met and he is the one who has most influenced me and I will, always, be grateful, that I had so many years with him, and I will always hope that he finds the happiness that he so greatly deserves.

A Friday

I only had to work until 1 PM today. Monday was MLK day and Tuesday was a vacation day for me, but I worked three hours (more actually) over those two days so was able to split early. I passed a few minutes bullshitting with girlfriends before I went so left at 1:15. I stopped by J's to drop off some mail and ended up on the phone for 30 minutes talking to my health insurance company on his behalf. J has primary insurance through his employer but I keep him on my benefits because mine are better. He received a prescription denial notice last month and when I called I was assured that it wasn't really a denial but a notice that his primary denied payment and so my coverage would pay. This time it looked like a denial of an appeal never filed. So we sat in my car whilst I talked to various representatives. J is a grownup and perfectly intelligent but I work in the healthcare field and have the vernacular and vocabulary and knowledge that he does not. So I spoke on the phone whilst he made jokes to make me giggle and slap him. It was sorted out, in his favor, and we were happy.

At 5 PM we ended up at a neighborhood bar where we had three drinks a piece, white wine for me and Murphy's stout for him. We talked about normal stuff before I started telling him random shit about MS. I told him how I renewed my gym membership, asking if there is a discount for people with chronic, incurable diseases (there is not). I told him how I talked to Viking at work and how that was a mistake because she is an old woman who doesn't think not to ask personal questions. "How are you doing with the shots? They hurt, don't they, when the needle goes in? J doesn't live with you anymore does he? He wasn't doing anything for you was he?" "No, Viking, the shots aren't that bad going in, it's just the side effects that bother me." "No, J lives in our old complex." "Viking, J is a great person, but we just don't live together anymore."

J got upset, to the point of tears. He has never done well with the diagnosis but I thought my making light of it would be OK. I thought wrong. He hates that I have this disease and that I have to give myself shots. No, I don't have to apologize, it's just that I am his wife, he told me in a quiet voice, and he wants to take care of me and take this away from me. I assured him that I'm the same person he met, the same idiot, the same jackass, at which point he made a joke. But he really hates that he can't fix this for me and I was honest and told him that I would like to be able to fix it as well. But I made damned sure that he understood that he needn't pity me, that I'm doing just fine. I would have cried myself if I didn't feel like I needed to take care of him.

We eventually went to dinner at our pub, where we discovered that our favorite couple, the ones who ran the place, had, indeed, moved on. J and I were greatly disappointed because they'd been there since we started showing up regularly. But we sat at the bar and enjoyed our food and agreed to meet once a week at a bar to watch one of the better NBA games. Whether we start next week or wait until after we meet for Super Bowl Sunday, I don't know. J told me that he didn't like that we'd gotten to the point where we had to make plans like this but I told him it was just what we needed. Dating like this is perfect, after all, for a couple that never really dated before becoming serious. I told him that if we are going to work out and be together, we need to really see how we are together. I truly believe he thought we just had some problems or disagreements to work out, whilst I think we need to get to know one another again. No matter what, this feels like a good compromise.

I dropped him off afterwords, and went home, where I let Johan out after he mistook my finger for a bell pepper and bit the fuck into it.

And that was the most of my Friday. 

Inside Outside

I feel disembodied and floaty today. I see my limbs doing things but don't necessarily feel them as they go. I feel like I'm in somebody's body, looking through her eyes and working her arms and legs like a puppeteer. It's disturbing and I don't like it. I was OK this morning when I ate ice cream for breakfast at 7 a.m. But now that I'm at work and I've eaten a proper meal, I just feel detached and disassociated from myself. I was standing in a friend's office, telling her about what happened last night and I realized I couldn't really feel myself. Even as I wiped away the tears that I embarrassingly let slip, they didn't quite feel real.

I never noticed how childlike my desk here at work is. I have all manner of objects on my shelves, including a stuffed lady bug that J got me. His name is Larry and he holds my bosses receipts so that I can remember to do his expense reports. I have random gifts from the stalker that I haven't gotten around to throwing out yet. There are cards from various friends for various occasions, and toys I brought from home. There is even a stuffed animal cat named Five, sitting in a dark recess where only I can see him.

How can one be so childish and feel such tearing, ripping, gaping pain? How can one be so childish and hurt so maturely?

I told him last night that it was over, that I didn't have any romantic feelings for him. I eventually went home and sobbed. I've cried twice at work today, once at my desk, holding it back fairly successfully, and once in my friend's office, unable to save face. My friend told me that I can't be responsible for J's emotions and I can't go around collecting people to help and fix like baby birds with broken wings. I know that. I also know that I did the right thing, telling him last night rather than putting it off.

But all the knowing in the world doesn't make me feel better at all.

 

Nothing or Everything or All. At. Once.

Those who are truly close to me understand that there are two parts of my personality that are fairly overwhelming. One is that I'm intense. I'm hyper and type A and I clench my toes and my hands throughout the day. I'm also just an intense person to deal with. My BFF, K, put it quite nicely to a mutual friend saying "all things Cat are intense" meaning not just one thing or one circumstance, all things. And that is true. I've realized that over the past few years and I even warn people about it. When I have a direction from someone to get something done I want it done right. this. fucking. minute. I will track you down in the office to find out the answer, even if it can wait a few days. If I'm tasked with putting together a lunch or a meeting, I will not stop freaking out about the details until everyone has come and gone. It's just how I am, for better or (more likely) for worse.

The other aspect of my personality is that I tend to live in fast forward. This is the proverbial blessing and curse, all in one. I feel the pain and grief of things incredibly deeply and quickly and it consumes me; but I also move through it quickly and bounce back. I think it is a coping mechanism from when I was smaller and things went to hell. But if you decide to friend me in the real world, you'll find that we'll either become close or realize we aren't going to be friends quite quickly because I, myself, become consuming. We'll start talking about all sorts of things and before you know it, you'll begin asking "how could we have become such good friends so quickly?" It's because that is how I work and that is all I know. My whole life I've had people, upon first meeting me, say "I can't believe I'm telling you this."

It's an interesting way to live, I suppose. I am very briefly in the moment and, as on Sunday, I'll think to myself "so this is what it feels like." I'll try to hang onto the sensation and the emotion so that I can burn it into my memory because I know my subconscious is already working to move past it. On Monday I was an utter wreck, crying at work and in the car and when I went to bed. The next day, whilst I had the puffy eyes and clogged feeling of having wept, I was perfectly capable of functioning and going about the things that had to be done. I felt the emotions, the sadness, the grief, but it wasn't consuming me like the wildfire it had been. I'll never forget how I felt when J and I realized it was over, but I'll never be able to describe it with the poetic language that the great authors do because I was unable to savor it.

You can see these things about me if you stroll through my archives. One moment I'm stressing out every day because I don't know if I've gotten a job. All of a sudden I'm bitching about the job and drawing pictures. Or I'm scared shitless about an impending answer to what is going on with my health, the next I'm laughing and joking about something inconsequential. These past few days I've been writing about my breakup, the breakup, and just now, walking home from the store I thought about writing about how three cars in a row all had one headlight out.

It isn't that I'm racing to get past my feelings for J. Those will be with me for the rest of my life. But I want to get past the bad and get to the next place, where things are good because we are friends and happy because we don't have the weight and burden of the responsibility that comes with being in a romantic relationship. I think J really felt he had to take care of me and watch out for me because of the stupid shit I do, like get drunk in public or make an ass out of myself or stay up late or eat like a child. And I felt like I had to take care of and watch over him as well. I'm not going to say why because for one, I recently found out that he sometimes reads this and for two, the same reason I never say anything too personal; it may have happened with me but it is personal to him and it is not for me to lay him bare for all the world to see. When it is between me and J, it is more his business than mine. It is only right that way. And I love and respect him too much to ever do such a thing.

It isn't that black and white of course. It took years for me to come to terms with one of my illnesses, probably in part due to the type of illness. And I will most likely still have my moments with the MS. And I certainly did not just start having these feelings about J. K can attest to that because she's the one person I really spoke to in real time. She is also the only person who never asked, when I said it was over, "are you sure?" because she knew, because she'd been there. If I were lazy or didn't know her better, I would say it was because she's been here. But she hasn't because her situation was different, necessarily. And she's known me for nearly four years. She is also the only person I did not have to tell "he's a good guy, don't hate him" when we first separated, because she knew. She knew how much I love him and admire him and she knew that it was not some unforgivable thing that had happened.

Because K and I became friends without any external force. What do I mean by that? Firefly is my best friend in DE and we first met when I dated a guy and ended up semi-homeless. I was 19 and she served as a surrogate mother before we became girlfriend. With K, it was just, well, we were friends. She was going through something, but it was the end of it, not the beginning. So K knows me and she is safe and I can trust her. She can attest to everything I've said because she's been along for the ride. Thank god for that. I don't know how I could deal with it if not for her. Because she knows that I've been unhappy for a long time. She knows that I don't just run hot and cold but that I do, actually, honestly, have feelings and that I sit with them for ages. It's just the burning that takes hold of me momentarily and then passes.

The best part about this aspect of me is that I get through the intensive pain quickly. The worst is that I don't get to hold on to bliss for long and I never get excited about anything. Because getting excited ruins it and puts it in peril. I think I've said it before, that the last time I got excited about something was 14 years ago when I went to try and get my license. I failed. Since then, I could never get excited about anything about because it would fall through. Going to England? Couldn't be excited till I got there. Traveling anywhere? Not till I get there. The prospect of a new job or promotion? Not till I get the word from human resources. Even a good weekend that is promised? Not until it begins.

But I'll take it. I have to as I have no choice. And if it will protect me and help me continue putting one foot in front of the other as I continue to grieve for what I've lost, for what I've caused, I'll fucking take it.

An Open Letter to J

The only things I can think to say are "I'm sorry" and "thank you." You have been the most influential person in my life and I meant it when I told you that I'm a better person because of you.

I miss who we were because we aren't those people any more. For better or for worse, we've both changed a great deal over the last few years and the match just unmatched. I do love you. I always will love you. But I truly believe that if we didn't come to this realization now, we'd end up one of those miserable, sexless couples who gripe about one another so much that people ask "then why are you still together?" I think we would eventually stop liking one another. And I don't want either of us to give up on life this early.

You will find someone who has the qualities that you liked in me. You'll find someone who is genuinely nice and kind to you, someone who makes you laugh and who you think is cute. Steer clear of the crazies, though, OK? Because if there is one thing we can probably agree on it is that I'm bat shit insane at moments and that is a lot to deal with just for me, let alone another person who has to just live through it with me. A nice, responsible, mature girl, one who doesn't have a reckless, self-destructive side maybe. Or whatever you, whoever you want. I'm not the one to tell you.

Give yourself a break once in awhile, OK? You really are an extraordinary guy with so much intelligence and talent. It's time you stopped buying the bullshit you always sell yourself because you deserve so much better. I've been telling you that for seven years. I'm not suggesting you start daily affirmation or that you start acting like an arrogant ass hat; but maybe once in awhile just realize that you aren't a terrible guy. Because you aren't.

And I'm so sorry for everything, things that were my fault, things that were not. I'm sorry that this had to become bad and that it had to end. I'm sorry that everyone thinks that you left me because of the MS and that I have to tell them to calm the fuck down. I'm sorry for all those times I ate in the bed, for sleeping with so many stuffed animals. I'm sorry that you are allergic to the pig.

I'm sorry. I love you. I thank you.

Aftermath

None of this makes sense to me. I don't understand how these cliches can hurt so bad. I don't understand why I'm weeping on my way home from work when not only have we been separated for two months (2 1/2) but I'm the one who initiated it. And I don't understand why I feel as guilty as I do.

This wasn't supposed to happen to me and J - that's a cliche that I now understand. I think that's why I've been such a basket case since we spoke yesterday, because I'm mourning our relationship, our younger selves.

And I feel so fucking guilty, so guilty you'd think I'd cheated on him or something, which I never did and would never do. I just think about him and how worried I am. Is he going to take care of himself? Does he understand that there are other people out there who will be nice to him, that it wasn't just some special quality of mine? Is he going to be OK? I feel this huge weight of responsibility around my neck because I don't know the answers and I really just want him to be OK.

I looked into it, how to go through the dissolution process. I emailed him this morning to tell him I'd figured it out but that I couldn't do it right away, that I'm too emotionally fragile just now. But all day I've been thinking about whether or not I should just take care of it, rip it off like a band-aid. Would he understand that? It isn't that I can't wait to be divorced; it's just that I can't stand the limbo and the looming inevitability.

How many more times is my heart going to break?

Not a play thing...

I'm usually very open and honest on this little blog of mine (I'm gonna make it shine). That's just how I roll, as the kids say. Do they still say that? I don't know. That's what is so good about swear words, they stay the same and never go out of style.

But lately I've been avoiding writing about one of the most major things in my life because I've been avoiding thinking about it. Today I came face to face with it and so I thought I may as well just get it all out. Oddly, I came to this point for one of the silliest reasons: dreaming about naked people. I've had two dreams in the last few nights that featured naked people. For once, it wasn't a dream with me jogging outdoors suddenly realizing that I am topless, which is usually what happens. This time the nudity involved the following:

1. A room full of naked men laying on a bed and naked women being brought in so that they could have sex for the sole purpose of breeding (this dream regarded a post-apocalyptic world where, for some reason, the human race was dying out and scientist had extracted something from aliens to make women more fertile; don't ask, I don't fucking know); and,
2. A naked, crazy, murderer who materialized when I pulled a sticker off a bar of soap and found I had won a contest (no idea what this was about).

My friend, when I told him about the dreams, said that I was dreaming about naked people because there was some feeling or thought that I didn't want to acknowledge or expose, I didn't want to expose my true feelings. He was joking, I think, but I realized that there is something I haven't been willing to face, and that is how quickly I seem to have gotten over J.

We were together for seven years, married for four, and have been separated for exactly two months. We haven't seen one another or spoken to one another for about a week and a half, not since the movie issue that came up on Labor Day and I pushed him away. And I don't miss him. I think about him frequently, but I don't miss him and I don't feel an absence in my life. When I do think about him, I think about how guilty I feel for what I've done to him, I hope that he is OK, and I hope that he is well. But I also hope that he is over me, that he has moved on. I don't care if he's moved on on his own or if he's met someone. I just want him to be happy, healthy, and doing OK without me.

That is an incredibly selfish desire because it would make me feel less guilty and selfish and awful. I want him to move on and be done with me so that I don't have to feel so awful for being OK without him. He is a great guy. He is brilliant, funny, loving, and sweet. He has so much going for him that he isn't even aware of and I'll never speak badly of him. But my feelings aren't there any more and I don't understand how that can be.

it isn't just that I feel guilty for hurting him, but I am disturbed by the way my feelings seem to have just shut down. Is it because I've been unhappy for the last couple of months? Because I've thought of leaving him since January, not knowing that this would really happen? How can you be with someone and love them intensely and completely for seven years only to have those feelings fade in two short months? Part of me assumes it is a coping mechanism, one that has been with me since I was very little and which allows me to adapt to new situations quickly and recover from grief and pain easily. But that can't be entirely it. Can I be this cold and selfish and terrible? When we first split, I was a mess, calling people and crying and talking at them, regardless of how well I knew them. All I could think about was J not wanting me and moving on whilst I was an emotional wreck. And yet here I am, doing perfectly fine whilst the last time I spoke to J, he was emotional and upset.

I don't have anyone new, that is something that I have mentioned here, that Johan is the only one in my life. I have friends who have been incredibly wonderful to me, but I'm not fucking someone else or cheating on J (and I would consider it cheating if I slept with a guy during my separation; oddly, I would not consider it the same if J did it, probably because I'm the one who asked him to leave). So it isn't that my heart belongs to someone else. I'm getting one of those 'key to my heart' lockets soon and I have every plan on wearing it and if asked, I'll explain that it is the key to my heart and it is around my neck, which means only I hold that key. J is the only one who has ever really had it and I feel so bad for having entrusted him with it only to tear it away from him.

I'm hoping that I'm being melodramatic and he has moved on but I cannot help but feel guilty for what I've done to him, even if he has. Because I have not been an easy person to love, nor to live with. I once read the snippet of a poem as follows (I'm afraid I do not know the author):

A heart is not a play thing,

A heart is not a toy,

But if you want it broken,

Just give it to a boy.

I love that and I think of it often. I just never knew that you could have your heart break for hurting someone else the way I have, when there was no infidelity, no lies, no horrible climactic moment that led to what I think is the demise of a marriage. But all I can think of is 'how could someone ever love me and entrust me with HIS heart?' I'm an awful person and I know all of my awful bits. I'm also really upfront about them, trying to warn others off. But then someone like J loves me anyway and I think it is going to be wonderful. And it is. Until I turn into a dick and I just push, push, push away. 

Part of me hears Kin Twin in my head, telling me that I'll go through a whole gamut of emotions and that this is to be expected. Not only am I separated, he likes to remind me, but I was diagnosed just a couple of weeks before the separation. So I think, maybe the shuttering of my feelings is just a necessary step so that I can reclaim myself and see J, myself, and us with a clear view. Maybe I'm not past it all. But in my heart, I really feel like it is over, and it breaks that heart. 

But I would still never invite my bestie into my apartment because he happens to be male and J doesn't trust him. I wouldn't invite him in for a drink or just to chat until after months had passed upon being officially divorced. Because J would find that disrespectful and, regardless of anything I feel about J, I have the utmost respect for him. I always have and always will. And I would never want him to think that I would do that to him. 

I know I've done nothing wrong. Yes, I have a lot of the blame for what happened regarding the bad bits of my marriage, but nothing unforgivable like cheating or even almost cheating. Never. But I have a tremendous amount of guilt as though I had done. I don't just feel bad for asking him to leave; I feel bad for inviting him into my life in the first place. Because if I hadn't done that, I wouldn't have hurt him as I have.

Last Word in this Chapter

Another thing that I always thought was a lame cliche: men and women think differently. I've always thought that was just a played out stereotype or what have you to keep conservative middle America guffawing at sitcoms. But it must be true because there is no way J could be as deceitful and manipulative as he would have to be to pretend he didn't understand what I was trying to tell him. He's not a deceitful person (or if he is, I've missed the boat by many miles and have still not faced the horrible truth after seven years.)

So today I put myself in his shoes and thought over the conversations we've had the last two days. Yep, big, awkward, horrible, grown up, married people conversations. Ones where he gets angry and I, surprise surprise, cry. Feeling really happy? Cry. Reading or watching something moving? Weep. Angry? Sob. Frustrated? Cry some more. The most annoying of my uncontrolled habits that I've never been able to stop. So I cry and weep and he seethes and feels angry. But we put up with it and soldiered on because we love each other and both want this to work. And this morning, I thought to myself "does he really, truly believe that I still think x y or z even after we've talked about it?" So I e-mailed him when I got to work to let him know I didn't believe it of him and that he needn't worry that I did or that I was watching his every move with suspicion. I also explained that the reason I don't say things while we are actually talking and end up emailing him in the morning is because they don't come to me. Something about sleeping and getting up gives me a bit of clarity and objectivity and so I want to communicate with him about whatever it is but I'm certainly not going to wake him up (again) at 7 a.m. to share.

We are working on things. He's truly sorry that he hurt me and has said that he loves me and that he would never degrade me or humiliate me or hurt me in any way on purpose or with intent. He has said that he doesn't think terrible things about me and that he wishes he could just fix things. But that isn't ever possible so instead we are just working through everything and today was the first good day I've had. I didn't spend the day at work with a clenched knot in my stomach, wanting to be sick at every minute, trying not to cry whilst my mind raced through all the terrible thoughts. Maybe because I'd gotten past the heat of the emotion and because we'd actually communicated like human beings, I was able to get over my shock and horror and start sorting through the rubble.

I'm not wearing rosy glasses or anything. I'm still a bit fearful and still hurt. But I'm trying to view things in a more simple way. Take him at his word. Consider what I've learned about him over all these years and holding up those actions against this one. He and I have both really fucked things up in our own ways and I think we have both owned the responsibility. And hopefully, this will just draw us closer together and we can get back to where we used to be.

Something happened around the end of May when he was studying for his exams and I didn't write about it. It wasn't so much a fight as it was just a catharsis. For a moment I really did think that that was it, we weren't going to make it. But J surprised me by coming back and apologizing for "behaving badly" as he put it. The process of getting a PhD or living with someone who is doing so can really test marriages I've been told. There were a lot of adjustments to be made when J started almost four years ago. Things changed in a number of ways to accommodate his new life as a professional student. And somewhere along the line, things got bad and neither one of us noticed properly. Then we forgot how to have conversations with one another. There is a good chance that my MS did start up at the end of 2007 and affected part of me that really contributed to a big portion of our troubles.

But hopefully we've caught it in time. Hopefully we'll see through all of the bullshit and find each other again and remember why we love each other. Because I do love him, tremendously, but I also want him to be happy. I'm not saying I'm so selfless that I could easily let him go if I knew it would lead him to a happy life. That would be complete and utter shit. I would feel broken and bruised, defeated and drained, and without a sense of life any more. I would be far less of a real person than I am now. But I never want to be some clinging, needy, weak little idiot who shields her eyes from the truth if it just means he'll stay for a little bit longer.

And oddly enough, I think I felt more married today than I have in a long time. I think I finally saw part of who it is I fell in love with again. I didn't know I'd missed him or been apart from him for so long until I felt it today.

And this is the last I'll write about this particular occurrence in my life. I'm vague on the details on purpose. As much as this is my blog and about my life, it is also about those that I love and respect. J doesn't read this (I asked him not to just because I thought it would be weird) but I still feel I owe him the respect of his privacy. I also owe our marriage some privacy and respect because it means a lot to me.

So I'll simply say this: life never stops surprising me with the shit tricks it plays on me and I'm convinced my life is just one long humiliating march towards death. But I also feel a great sense of wonder and accomplishment when some good comes out of it. In whatever form.