Thursday, June 3, 2010

Finding Forty, Day 8: Confessions

Part of this blog is my attempt to "find" myself, whatever the hell that means.   I never knew I was lost until one day I woke up and felt like a foreigner in my life.   The scenery was the same, the people hadn't changed, but I couldn't recognize me.  

Why, seemingly all of a sudden, did the things I once cherished and longed for not spark me or grasp me the way they always had?

I suppose I'm having a mid life crisis.   I'm not looking for anyone's pity, although admittedly, I want no one's spite either.   It just is what it is.

I can't force myself to be something I'm not.   I can't pretend for any great length of time.  And honestly, for me, doing that is just downright disrespectful to those around me.    It's as if I'd be saying "I don't trust you to manage your feelings or emotions or thought processes enough for me to be honest with you.   Let me try to pretend to be what I'm not so that you don't have to deal with anything bad or negative in the slightest bit". 

Having said that, I don't want to be a selfish bitch either.  And therein lies my problem.  When you are a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, you have people who depend on you to be a certain way, a way that makes their life feel safe and warm and lovely.   Problem is, I can't figure out how to be and do all those things while maintaining my sanity either.

You see, last year I had an affair.   It wasn't a random, one off event.   It evolved slowly over witty, open, flirtatious emails and then manifested itself into a passionate romance.   Without cruel intentions, I allowed it to consume me and take on a life of it's own.    For many months, my lover, S,  and I talked daily on the phone or though texts or emails.  He became my everything, filling every void I didn't even know existed in my heart and soul.   He was my my missing piece, my missing peace.   I would have abandoned my marriage for him, and did.   Except once I freed myself up for him, he got cold feet and backed out.  

Devastated and broken, I retreated back to my marriage (yes, A took me back) and we've limped along for months now trying to figure out our next move, all the while examining the workings of our hearts and minds.

Moving forward is so very hard. 

S once told me that you can't unknow.   And you can't.   I can't unknow the love I feel for him, the way he made me feel in his arms, the way we spar when we talk, the way we laugh and laugh until tears slide from our eyes. 

And yet, somehow over time, I "unknew" how A made me feel.  I unknew the love we shared, the commitment I made to him, the promises, the shared life we built for over two decades now.

So you see, it's no wonder I'm searching for myself.   Who the hell am I?   How can this person who's lived the life I've lived this past year be the same one who started out as a bright eyed and hopeful 18 year old with A?

I feel so lost.  

Can looking back help?   Today I read my journal from when I was a teenager, so naive and so seriously introspective.

Are there answers there, in that emergent woman?   Are there?   I certainly can't find the answers here, in this mid life person I've become.    In upcoming blogs, I plan to share the words I wrote so long ago to see if any glimmer of insight is offered there.   At the very least, I'll get to revisit my thoughts from an earlier time in my life.

I know the answers are here, I'm here, I just have to keep looking.


1 comment:

  1. I'm not trying to be funny by responding to each and every post, so I hope you don't think that I am. I can also relate to this, however, cannot bring myself to writing about it so openly on my blog as my husband doesn't know about my unfaithfulness (did I spell that right). I feel that one day I should tell him so he knows why I've been such a wreck for the past couple months (well nearly 3 now) but I can't bring myself to doing it.

    My "other person" also told me the same damn thing you said here, You can't "unknow" something. But why have I been able to unknow what I had with my husband; the love, the fun, the security, the all seems to be gone.