Thursday, October 21, 2010

Finding Forty, Day 146; New Normal

Long, long day here.   It began with an early morning conversation with A.  I awoke to find him sitting alone in the darkness of the living room.  Too awake to fall back asleep, I joined him on the couch and thus began our morning diatribe about our state of being.

Mostly, I listened.  I think in the past year, I haven't done enough listening.  Whether I end up agreeing with what he says or not, I feel it's the least I owe him.

He told me two things that stand out for him now.   The first one is that he still harbors anger for me.  I bristle every time he tells me that, for having someone angry with me is one of my strongest fears, but what can I do?  I deserve his anger, rage, even.   He should technically hate my guts.   When he tells me he's angry, I have nothing to say other than "I'm sorry" and "I understand".

The second thing he told me was that he has no hope for us.  He wants to just give up and call it quits before any more time goes by.    I hate hearing  him say that, although I know full well, I haven't done everything I can to make him want to keep trying.   Again, I can't say that I blame him.

Acknowledging these things does nothing for making any of this easier.   But, acknowledge I must.  I want A to know that I am deeply sorry and only want things to go smoothly from here on out.

Again, if we had no kids, we'd have parted ways months ago.  But we love our boys so very much, we hang on, in hopes of rekindling something, so that they might hold onto whatever semblance of normalcy is left.

I suppose it's time to create the new normal.   The new normal.  That is what I called life after my mom died.  What else can you do?   Life doesn't stop, even when you want to crumble in a sobbing heap on the ground and wait until strong friends or angels come to lift you up.   Life moves on and so must your aching, dirty, dusty feet.   Maybe you drag your steps for a while, but either way you move.  No caving now.

So, onward I go.   Onward.  I smile because the visual of my onward is about the same as a toddler taking its first tentative steps.   One forward, two back, and then, boom...I fall.

I get up, move on.   Over and over. 

It's time to start formulating the plan for the move out.  

Yes, it's time.


  1. *hugs*

    Keep on moving, my dear.

    -Your Cheerleader

  2. What else can you do? Life doesn't stop...
    Y'got that right.
    It's a curse and a blessing.