Finding Forty, Day 186; Oz

I spoke with A on Sunday evening when he returned from his parents.  I cried and told him of my recent thoughts, my worries, my hope that if we could only speak each others love language, we could make this work.   


He told me he loved me, but that he feared he could never be what I wanted or needed him to be and that when that happened, he had no trust in what I would do.


I asked if I had come to him before the affair, would things be different, and in all honesty, he answered that he didn't know.


I left dejected, devastated, and demoralized.


He had a wonderful weekend without me, feeling free and unencumbered and I sincerely believe he is happy, quite relieved with this separation.


I made my bed, I'm lying in it as I type.


Yesterday, I ventured over to a friend's blog.  Months ago he wrote a very moving piece about parting with the one you love, about dream's not always working out as you thought, about moving on in life, despite your broken heart.


It is entitled "The End of the Rainbow" and it moved me to tears.  I still weep, hours after reading it, when I think of how beautifully he explained such a sad time in  his life, in my life now.

This morning, I feel like Dorothy, chanting 'there's no place like home'.   But is home the proverbial Kansas or the facade that was Oz?   

Am I the Wicked Witch for having the affair, for not being able to articulate my needs before straying?

Or am I a tangled mess of The Scarecrow, The Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion?

Funny, it seems I could play all of the roles and maybe that is the brilliance in the story.   In us resides the capacity, the ability to assume any of those roles at any given time in our lives.

No real answers today, just questions.

If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why, oh why can't I?

Finding Forty; Day 184; I DID IT!!!!!

And on a totally unrelated note,  I wrote my first novel!

Its pitiful little title is "Convenient Love".   That makes me chuckle.

I finished this morning, clocking in with 50,014 words.

I haven't even gone back to reread the novel.  I am sure it's beyond horrid, but the challenge was to get the words in one month and I did it!

I feel happy and proud.

Finding Forty, Day 184; The Language of Love

Thank you all for your honest comments.  I probably shouldn't have posted our personal emails, but I did.  I'm not sure why I share so much.  Maybe to help others who are going through what we are going through, maybe to garner insight from readers.

One thing, though, is that I was not looking for pity.  I appreciate everyone's responses, but I will not be able to answer each question.  To begin with, I don't have the answers.  I suppose if I did, I wouldn't be at this place in my life.

I can say this.  I am remorseful for the affair and I have shared this with A.   He knows how sorry I am and how I wish it had never happened.

Having an affair strips you of everything.

Yes, if I choose to fight for this marriage and fight for A, I realize I become the person who has to give more than she takes,  proving to A how sorry I am and how I am back in this 100%.  I might have to be the person that does this for the rest of my life.

A's love language is Acts of Service.  It is how he expresses love and wants to receive love as well.   Acts of Service is 4th on my list of love languages, so for all those years, when he was trying so hard, he wasn't filling me up emotionally.  Yes, I appreciated everything he did for me, but for the most part, I walked around empty and lonely.

As for him, his tank was mostly full.   I was a stay at home mom who cared for the kids and did things around the house.  Yes, there were specific acts of service I failed at (having dinner decided and ready when he got home from work and other household tasks), but for the most part, I was willing and able to do those.

If you had asked him before the affair if he was happy in our marriage, he would have said yes.   And he will still admit that today.

Mine was a resounding no, but at the time, I didn't have the tools to communicate with him what it was I needed from him and I am terribly sorry for that.

Having the affair stripped me of my right to ask for what I need.

Gary Chapman, in The 5 Love Languages, says that you can ask your spouse to learn to speak your language, even if it does not come naturally to them.    He goes on to say that a spouse who speaks a language other than their own is actually shower deeper love by working harder.

If only I'd asked A before the affair, before the trust was shattered and the heart broken.

The book truly opened my eyes.   Like I said, I wish I would have found it sooner.

If you are interested in finding out more about it, have a look here.

Finding Forty, Day 183; Mirror Mirror

I am sad.  My heart is breaking.  I have slipped into panic mode about A and I am not sure what to do.


I had a dream about A on Thursday night and woke up in a mood.  I still haven't shaken it.  Here is our latest exchange.

Hey,

 I've sort of been trying to reach you today, pretty much to no avail. I suppose you are busy. I suppose you don't want me bugging you during the day. I am sorry. I've tried to just get on with the day, but I keep coming back to you.

 I miss you today. I had a dream about you last night and so I woke up in one of those moods, you know, the irritated, sad kind? The dream seemed so real. You were going out on a date tonight with X and Y. I suppose it made all of my weaknesses come out. All the same ones that have haunted me for as long as I can remember.

 I think I wanted you to read that Love Languages book and finally understand what I needed to fill my tank. I should have been direct with you about it, rather than just handing it to you and hoping you had an epiphany.

 That list of things to do in the Quality Time chapter are all exactly the type things I want. I guess I am curious if you think you could do those things and if you are even interested anymore in trying?

 I'm sorry to bug you about all of this. I think I am just at a spot where I needed to know.

 I hope you are having fun. We are doing okay. I am ready to be back home, but I can't even define what 'home' is anymore so that's a bit confusing too. I guess I'm just feeling a bit down.

 Have a good day,
Kate

And this is what he wrote back:

I can tell that you are wondering about things. Wondering what there
can be between us.

Frankly I don't have an answer. I feel 2nd best, 2nd choice. I still
feel that you really wanted someone else and not me. I feel that
everything I thought I had is gone. I am exhausted. And I'm trying to
figure out what I want to do next.

I also think it is going to be hard to get over every thing we've been
through. I don't trust you the way I want to trust my best friend or
my partner. I don't know how to get that back.

I also don't trust that I am who you really want. I'm the safe
alternative. The backup plan.

It seems that you are feeling lonely. That you are wondering again if
I can fulfill you. I was trying to do that for 20 years and I failed.
I don't have confidence that I can do it. I don't even know if I want
to do it given what we've been through.

I love you. I do not regret our life together.

I worked really hard to make you happy. You broke my heart. Now I have
to learn a new way to make you happy. All while feeling like the
consolation prize.

How do I do that?

I am exhausted. I desperately want to move on without feeling like a
wimp and a door mat. Without feeling like a failure.

How can I do that?

Reading this again, my heart continues to break.

I am back at the house with the boys, having just arrived home after a 5 hour drive from my sister's house.  A is still at his parent's house, so he's not here.   The boys and I ate Thai takeout and have now started digging into the Christmas decorations.

This feels like where I am supposed to be. 

I'm so confused and I can't afford to hurt anyone else anymore.   I need to figure out a way to refocus and get my head clear.

Tonight's blog feels more desperate and whiny than they have in a while, but I'm being honest.  I guess that's why they call it the ugly truth.

Finding Forty; Day 182, Reception

We, the boys and I, made it to my sister's for Thanksgiving with little fanfare and much ease.  I made sure to wear my brightest smile and be on my best behavior.

Out here, I have to choose my words wisely for fear of the attack.   My honest words get me in trouble when I visit my sister.   She doesn't understand how I could be unhappy with A, with my marriage, with life in general.

Her overarching philosophy is that life is a choice, our attitudes are choices and even if things are not great, she chose them and therefore she can now choose to make them work for her.

It makes me feel so emotionally needy and inferior.   Why can't I just choose to be happy with A?   She says she would never tear her children's family apart but is quick to add that she does not judge me for doing so.

Wait.  I'm sorry.  I'm confused.

As I type this, I fear she will read it or catch wind of it.  She would not understand my neediness or my wanting to search for more in life.  I can't explain it to her.  I can't tell her how empty I have felt with A, with myself, with life in general.  She has no tolerance for wimps.

She pointed out yesterday that it was my first Thanksgiving in 21 years without A.   I hadn't yet formulated that realization on my own.  Wow.   It smarts to hear it said out loud.

 I missed him a bit yesterday.  I have what I call "book end" emptiness.   I miss him at the beginning of the day and at night before I go to bed.

Doesn't help that I dreamed about him last night going out with two 'girls' that we went to high school with.     I woke up with a most unsettled feeling, almost panic, worrying if I was making the right choice.

The thing is, I think A, even though he wanted our marriage to work, is doing quite alright with me out of the picture.   I also think that what I need for him to do to come back to the marriage and make it work are things he is not willing or able to do.

I suppose I should ask him because I can now tell him exactly what I need.

Maybe we will talk later.

That is, if I can get some reception out here in the country.

An addendum:   After having vented, I feel much better.  The day is beginning and I am enjoying her company again.  I think I awoke in a very "poor misunderstood me" mode, but I am shaking that negativity and I plan to enjoy this crisp, gray, fall day with people I love and who I know, when it is all said and done, love me.

Finding Forty, Day 178; Lump

The lump rests at the base of my throat, unsure about whether to move up or down.  If I inhale slowly, the oxygen just glides behind the lump, it doesn't push it down.   Exhaling does nothing either.

I was having a good day.  A good evening even.  And then, I went to Facebook.   I don't care for Facebook anymore and probably should just delete my account.   For the most part, there is nothing to say or do there.

I looked at A's Facebook page but there is no new activity there.  I'm not sure why there would be or why I would care.  Well, okay, I can figure out why I'd care, but I don't want to.   I don't want to be numb to A, but I do.

Today on the phone, I asked if he'd had a chance to read the chapter in the love languages book and he had not.   I felt dejected.   The very chapter I want him to read is about filling my emotional tank with attention and quality time.  Even when I ask for something specifically, he isn't able or willing to do it.

Yes, I understand I just gave him the book.  Actually, I know I am overreacting.  One day is a ridiculous expectation.

Okay, no more bitching about A.  I do hope he reads it though because I am anxious to hear his thoughts.

I can't wait to get to my sister's house and relax and visit.   It will be great to see all of them.

It seems the lump has dissipated.  I can't find it now, I won't be crying right now, possibly later.  Surely later.

I'm still scared.   There are so many unknowns.   I want a vision, some hope for where I am headed.  I want more permanence and my boys with me.

Inhale.  Exhale.

Finding Forty, Day 177; Steady

The weekends bite me.  Every time.  I go through the week, for the most part rocking and rolling, feeling strong and stable and then Friday afternoon arrives and in sets the doubt, the anxiety, the overall feeling of sadness and confusion.

This weekend was no exception, although now that it is just about over with I realize that I made it.

I saw a really special friend yesterday and she and I shopped a bit, laughed, and talked.   We mapped out our plan to lose weight by early next year and I am excited about making positive changes.

Today, I stopped by the house on my way "home" and A and I went to lunch.  I wanted him to read a book about the five love languages, mostly just to get his thoughts on a specific chapter.

After reading the book, I know full well that my "love language" is quality time.  More than anything that is what I need to be fulfilled and the book does an excellent job of putting into words, with concrete examples, what I have had a hard time telling A.

I think, there is a part of me, that wants him to read it to understand what it is I've needed and to see if he thinks he is able and willing to do those things for me.

I don't want to push the book on him, but I do want him to read it.

From our lunch and talks today, I gather that he's mostly happier with me gone.  I'm not sure exactly how that makes me feel.  Part of me is saddened by that, while the other part of me feels a bit relieved.

I can't wait until I fall on either side of the fence definitively, but for now, I will just accept that this is where we are.

I almost feel apologetic for not having any drama to report, but it's been a slow few days and more and more, I cherish days like this.

I'm looking forward to the Thanksgiving holiday.

Cheers,
K

Finding Forty, Day 174; Tom Brady

I finally sent my close friends an update email about the state of my life.

Yeah, I'm an ass.   All you cyber readers knew I had moved out before my true, blue, love of my life friends did.

Here's why.  Hopefully, all of you will be able to understand.

First of all, I am exhausting.  I know it.  My past year or more has been 'me, me, me' and I get that a whole bunch of 'me' is really annoying.   My saga has been the SOS (same ol shit) for months upon months.  I just think that friends can only take so much and I feel like I exceeded "so much" about six months ago.

So, when the time came for me to move out, I just did it.  I didn't announce it or debate it or ask for advice. I knew I had to to it.  The time had come, no matter what anyone thought (not that I'd ever had dissenting voices from the people who love me).

I just was trying to find me.  And me means me.   The me I am at the end of the day when no one is around to ask what we should have for dinner.   The me who decides what time everyone (me) goes to bed, the me who does anything and everything she wants.

(On a side note, I MISS my kids.  ME doesn't want to be solo.  I want my kids in my life always, let me make that clear).

So, I moved out.   In some ways, it's huge.  In other ways, it just is what it is.  Much like everything else in life.

Heidi Klum is hot, even after three kids.  Just is what it is.   Tom Brady is a gifted athlete who can knock up a supermodel, dump his former girlfriend and still be her baby daddy, grow his hair long, and still rack in huge bucks as an NFL quarterback.   Yeah, doesn't feel fair but it just IS WHAT IT IS.  

Plus, Tom Brady is gross, so I hardly care.

Anyway, back to me.  Friends of mine, I'm still here, where I have always been.  One third of me being the best mom I know how to be, despite all my flaws, another third of me being the best teacher I can possibly be, and the last third of me working massively hard to figure out who I am while constantly perched behind this laptop.   Hit me up on email if you want.  I'm always receptive!

I love everyone.  Including A and S.  Which has probably been the biggest problem of my life.

But I love all my friends too and now, more than ever, I need you.  I'm asking out loud.

I need you and love you and I will be great, I just feel it!

Love you!
K

Finding Forty, Day 171; Two Steps Up, One Step Back

So, if I'm being honest, the title of today's blog should be one step up, two steps back.  

R, my girl in Chi-town, always tells me that movement is good.  And this movement is good.  Tonight, at my friend's house, I feel happy and content.    I ate out alone tonight and I didn't even consider getting the food to go!

I walked into the restaurant, ordered my food, then sat down and ate.   I didn't even rush through the meal.

Of course, the entire time I was there, I was checking out the other patrons.  First of all, to see who else appeared to be single and secondly, well, isn't it obvious?  I was looking for cute guys.  Really, you ask?   Yes, I like to scope the scene.

So, I'm making progress.

Here is where I'm not.

First of all, did I mention I emailed S after seeing him the other day?  I needed to tell him how worried I was for him, how bad he looked (think concerned not catty), and how he truly needed help.  I sent it on Saturday and heard from him this afternoon.   I thought he might be mad that I called him out as an alcoholic, but he was jovial and in denial.   My heart fluttered a bit, actually.  Sadly.  But not enough to really shake me from my FORWARD motion.  I know I'm the dumb girl in the horror movie (thanks Nana), but maybe I can be Jamie Lee Curtis.  She survived those Halloween flicks (okay, the first one at least, I don't know about the sequels) and I will survive all of this too.   Look at her now, writing children's books and posing without make up in fashion mags.   She's strong and I can be too!

Secondly, in my new place, there's cable t.v.   Hold onto your hats, but...I'm addicted to the Bravo channel.   These Housewives of Beverly Hills and Atlanta and whatever other hood I can find to move into in the confines of my "progress" pad imagination are so freaking addicting!

The Housewives of Beverly Hills are incredibly over the top, with more plastic in them than my kids' playroom.  And yet I can't not watch and yell back at the t.v. at their insanity.

The Housewives of Atlanta are a bit more down to earth, but only by one level of atmosphere, say from the stratosphere to the mesosphere.

Either way, they are amusing!   I love the drama, the excess, the absurd, ridicularity of their lives.  I don't even think ridicularity is a word, but it's perfect for these women.

Maybe I love them because they inject that dose of normalcy in my life.

So, I'm moving, I'm walking.  Sometimes I stumble back, but other times I get forward.

Either way, I'm secretly, guiltily loving the journey!

Finding Forty, Day 170; No Going Back

Six days!   It's been a crazy six days.  Well, okay, relatively crazy.  I was away at a conference for three of them and now the weekend has almost past.

Today is A's birthday.  I had the kids this weekend and we spent yesterday running errands, buying him a few presents and making his cake.  It's our tradition that we decide what type cake he gets, then we do our best to make it.

It was hard this year to think of something for him.   He's had such a shit time of things lately, I wanted to try to come up with something like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  Part of me wishes I could have baked a heart shaped cake to give to him, but that wouldn't be fair.

Being at the house has been hard.  I spent last night here, in our youngest son's bottom bunk.  It's not as contrived as it might seem.  He and youngest son had gone to a football game, middle son was having a sleepover with a friend, so oldest son invited two friends over for a sleepover.  We decided the house would be better than at my place, considering the friend I rent from doesn't have kids, so A asked if I would stay until he got home.   I asked if I could sleep in the other room if I got tired.   So that's what happened.

But it's hard.  This was my house for 12 years and I know it's nuances inside and out.  The majority of my things are here, it's just been our life, our routine for over a decade.   When I'm here, I feel like I should be here.   When I'm away, that feels right also.

I'm thinking that part of what is contributing to this messed up head I'm feeling is that I saw S on Friday.   On my way home from the conference, I drove past his work, called him, and stopped by.  I didn't go inside the building, he came out to my car and we talked for about 15 minutes.

It was an interesting situation.   I called for about 15 minutes prior to reaching him and his line was busy.   When it finally rang through, I said, "Hi, it's me,"  just assuming he'd know who 'me' was.   He replied, "Hey!" and when I said, "I'm just driving through town on my way home," he said, "Oh, I thought you were just who I was on the phone to.  You sound just like her."

What?   My brow furrowed and of course, I had to ask who he was talking to.  It turns out he was talking to he and his wife's hairdresser.   He's told me before that she's attractive, a former stripper even, and apparently they were talking to iron out some plans for the weekend because they were going to do something couple related.

But my instinct tells me there is something more going on.  Just the way he assumed I was her.   It left an unsettled feeling in me.

Also, he looked horrible.  As I stood in front of him, I noticed his tired, puffy, wrinkled eyes.   His hair was a wreck.  His clothes disheveled.

His truck, parked next to where we were had a dent in the passenger door and the side view mirror was damaged.   When I asked what happened, he said he'd' gotten a 'whiskey dent'.   Apparently, from what he could remember, he'd hit another car as he was backing out of a parking spot leaving a bar.

When I asked how he was doing, he said "great".   He said he'd realized how much he loved his life and his wife and how he'd never do anything to jeopardize that again.   I pointed out that he'd figured all of that out at my expense and he acknowledged as much and apologized.

We hugged goodbye and I drove off.   I didn't cry.   More and more, it hit me that I fell in love with an alcoholic who is addicted to not only beer, but to his lifestyle.   He might have had all of the feelings he had for me at one point in time, but they were never enough to pull him away from the lifestyle he so loves.

It was quite disheartening, but eye opening at the same time.  

So, then, seeing A at our house, looking cute and sweet, really pulled at  my hearstrings.

But, I know there's no going back.  There's only what comes next and what that might be is left to be seen.

A is good with us apart and I am genuinely happy for that.  He deserves goodness in his life.

We are still friends and that is good.

As a matter of fact, we are off to his birthday lunch!

Finding Forty, Day 164; Declining

Things are pretty good.

I went to see the boys after school and they are so engrossed in playing with the neighborhood kids, they hardly know I am there.

First, I arrived and did some household chores.  I don't and never intended for A to be a single dad, so I want to help him out as much as possible.

Then I went outside where the kids were playing and sat with them.  They were involved in this amazingly, creative game of tag and so I basically sat and watched.

Me being there is more of presence sort of thing than a "let's do this and that together" sort of role.

I am fine with that if it still manages to help the kids and let them know how much I love them.

It's the walking through the house that is hard.

A organized the bedroom apparently and cleaned off my nightstand.

Mind you, I gave up the rights to that nightstand when I moved out and I KNOW that.  But seeing it devoid of any sign of me is pretty weird.   My lotion was in the bathroom cabinet and all my self help books about relationships had been moved to  my closet floor.

It was slightly weird.

Another weird thing is that none of my friends have messaged me or texted me to see how I am doing, save two of them.

I know that one of my friends knows I've done this.  She lives right down the street and saw A at a neighborhood birthday party on Saturday and I wasn't there.

Why hasn't she even texted to see how I'm doing or to ask if she might offer some help?

I suppose I shouldnt' worry about such things, but it does slightly strike me as odd.

Only thing is though, I really used and abused my best friends this past year as I moaned about S and all of his shit, so possibly they are spent?

I realize I've been quite needy of late.

The absolutely cool thing is that despite anyone's interest or concern or help, I moved out.  I finally did it.

And I've stuck with it, if only for a week.

Tonight, my oldest son asked me to stay for dinner and I graciously declined.  I could not see the merit in that.

I will have the boys tomorrow night, overnight and we already have plans to eat out.

I told him no because I couldn't bear to sit across the table from A.   The memories and expectations are just too much.

But ultimately, I feel good and today has been a strong day.

More and more I realize, I CAN do this!

Finding Forty, Day 163; Translations

So, I fell behind in my novel writing and had to make up for it today.   I think I wrote about 5,000 words today to get me back on schedule.

I suppose I should be grateful for the free time to be able to do something as luxurious as what I did, which was lay in bed while typing on my sweet new laptop and write.  What a life!

Unfortunately, I'm writing pure drivel.  It's barely fiction, as it's primarily about my love life saga.   I'm not really sure what my intentions were because I'm finding that dredging up the past is quite painful.  But, hopefully all is not lost because as the author of my novel I get to orchestrate my ending.   I'm sure it will consist of our lovely but lost heroine somehow finding all the things she longed for and needed.

It was A's weekend with the boys.  I saw them on Friday at our neighborhood potluck, but it was nice.  Being there but being separate from A was nice.   He got there late and it was no big deal.  He left early and it didn't even hurt my feelings.  That is huge progress.    Now, you might ask, why can't I separate my emotions when I'm there as his "wife" and honestly, I don't know the answer to that question.

Last night, I went out with a girlfriend to hear an 80's cover band.   While I'm not looking for love, I wanted to look nice and certainly would have let a gentleman buy me a drink or have a dance, but it was bizarre.  I felt fake.  I felt like I wasn't wearing clothes that were me, I felt fat, and frankly, I felt a bit desperate.   I kept looking at all the men there wondering if they'd ever make me feel the way S made me feel, or if they'd ever love me the way A did.   I know those are questions that can't be answered.

It wasn't what I wanted at all, which more and more I'm realizing that what this time is for is reflection and learning how to love me.  Learning  how to be with just me is one of the hardest things I've ever done and it's only been a week.

So, today, I called A to check on the boys and I ended up going to lunch with them and just hanging out at the house for about 2 hours.    I can't really explain how it felt.  I didn't cry this time when I left.  A and I can talk and we even hugged goodbye.

And I'm just trying to figure out what I miss.  Everything I am, everything I own, everything I was and thought I would be are tied to that house, that man, those boys.

R, my best friend, tells me that I am more than a relationship, more than a house, more than a job.  But if I'm NOT those things, then what am I?   That is the scariest question of all.

Many days, I still don't like who I am.  I fail myself constantly.   I eat more than I should, I decide not to work out, I am constantly saying things to people that I instantly regret.   And I don't know how to just STOP being that way.   And harder still, I don't know how to just accept that that's how I might just be.

So, I'm alone.  My husband is in our house, our life, with our sweet, beautiful boys.  And I'm here trying to find my answers.     I feel like the answers are here, a leather bound tome of knowledge, but when I open the pages, the script is in an exotic foreign language.  If I could just find the translation.

But I still feel like this is the move we have to make, the place we are, so we accept it and continue moving forward towards progress.

I can't get down, if I do I fear I'll  be swept away.

Love,
K

P.S.   To my sweet and loyal followers, your words mean so very much to me and I have been so lax in commenting back to you and reading your blogs.  I will remedy that soon!   You do more for me than you know.   Thank you for your encouragement.  xoxo, K

Finding Forty, Day 160: Okay!

I can't focus.   I signed up to write a novel in November.   The official/unofficial name of the contest is NaNoWriMo and I am supposed to write 50,000 words during this month.

Fiction is hard for me.  I have no problem telling you all about the intimate, or mostly intimate, details of my life.   Fiction is a bitch.

Funny how I can maintain a huge fantasy life within the confines of my feeble mind, but writing about fantasy and unreal things just kills me.

I don't know how I'm going to make it to 50,000 words.

Either way, I plan to try.

In many ways, it's infringing on my blogging, but I've had a hard time blogging anyway.    First of all, I grew tired of hearing myself whine.  Blah, blah, poor me, blah.    Secondly, I really turned inward for a while.   I realize that for many, many nights, I was only talking to myself.

That is cuh-razy!  I don't just talk to myself.  I'm a communicator, the reacher outer.  An "I can't be alone" sort of gal.

Tonight, when I pulled into the temporary housing, a wave of loneliness washed over me.   In that moment, I began panicking.   Like, full on panic attack!   I can't be alone, whatever will I do?  Who can I call, text, send subliminal messages to?

And then, saner heads prevailed.  This voice in my head started consoling me.   It was telling me things like, guess what?  Loneliness is OKAY.  Loneliness is not the end of the world.   People are lonely all the time and there is no need to rush to find someone or something to fill the void.

And as I worked through the moment, I came out just fine!

Here I am, watching crap cable t.v. and gearing up to write complete and utter  drivel for my novel challenge.

And, more importantly, I'm alright.

I think everyone else is okay, too.   I can't know for sure, but the boys seem fine.   Fine, as in, good.

Anyway.    Day 4 and here I sit.

If anyone wants to email, I am still lonely, but happy...

Night all!
K

Finding Forty, Day 159; Mary Poppins

Day 3 in the new digs.  I can't tell you how wonderful and peaceful this new place is.  My co worker is single and busy and always gone.  I feel, so far, like I live here alone.

One of the routines I've begun establishing is to go  everyday after work to visit with the boys.  So far, it's been averaging 2 hours a day, roughly from 4 to 6.   Not really enough time, but better than nothing.

The problem is that being in the house hurts.  The smells, the clutter, the spaces we shared.   Even the dust bunnies seem to tug at my heartstrings.   And yet, I can't be away from the kids.   Unfortunately, I guess, I've not been able to leave until after A gets home, or just as he's arriving.  That is a huge hurdle, a tremendous ache.   I cry every time I leave and want to make a u-turn and drive home.   Sometimes I know that is where I am supposed and meant to be.   But the further I drive away, the more peace I feel.  There is a spark of excitement coursing through me and I can't deny it.

It's very hard.   I miss the boys.  As crazy as they drove me, at least they were there.   I miss their sweaty heads, the curve of my littlest one's booty in his tighty whitey's, the annoying, silly stories they'd tell me about shows they'd watched.

Last night they stayed with me here and it went really well.  I remember after my mom and dad were separated and I was in college, my sister and I had Christmas dinner with my dad in a Burger King.  It was pitiful and sad, but we soldiered through our Whoppers with cheese and choked down our Diet Cokes and extra salty fries.  I am not sure I ever felt more sorry for him in my life.    Well, okay, I have.  I mean, it is my dad we're talking about.   But still, it was a very painful moment.

I don't want my boys to have those.  For almost two years now, I've struggled on some days through a marriage that was "less than" in order for them to not know Burger King.

Last night, my younger two and I ate take out Whataburger on a piece of cardboard in the upstairs room I am renting from my friend.    We could have eaten at the dining room table, but there was something adventurous about sitting around a flattened t.v. box eating apple slices and burgers.   Actually, there's probably not, but the farther I get in the journey, the more I realize it's all about perception.

We are strong!  We are resilient!  We will all be okay!  

I do believe those things.  

Especially as long as I stay busy and away from A and the house.

I pray for clarity.  I hope for it to magically arrive at my feet, much like a Christmas package or a brown, wrapped box delivered by a hottie in a big van.    If I were Mary Poppins, I could pull clarity right out of my tapestry bag or pour it onto an oversized spoon and swallow it down.

But I'm smart enough to know it doesn't work that way.

I will just try to be.   Be.  And clarity will find me.   At some point, she'll breeze past me and I'll feel her wisps.

Day three.   Not bad.   Wonder how I'll be at Day 30?

Hopefully, stronger than ever.

Finding Forty, Day 157; Trying

Blur, blur, and even more blur.   I feel so strange.  I'm lonely beyond belief and nothing seems to spark me.  Work keeps me busy enough that I don't have time to feel too sad and even though home has been feeling like the place I want to be, I'm still moving out.

Yesterday we told the kids.  It went better than expected, but still hurts like hell.  There were no real tears and in telling them I feel like a ton of bricks was released from my chest.   The only thing is, I think I merely dispersed the weight among my children.

Ultimately, I have a firm and strong belief that they will be fine.  They are so resilient and are so loved.   In telling them I was moving out for a trial separation, we gave them the gift of truth.  No more pretending, no more facade.

It doesn't answer their questions of "why?" or "what happens after the trial separation?", but it does show them that there is such thing as courage in the face of turmoil.

I'm at home right now, having come here straight from work.  I'll most likely get dinner started and head out to my friend's house after that.

I will miss my boys.  I must see them daily, feel their warmth, squeeze their soft skin.

I miss A too.   I can hardly think of him without crying.   

Is that a good thing?  I don't know yet, but if being apart brings us closer, then I have to give it a try.