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.

Finding Forty, Day 152; How, What, When?

Where in the world to begin?  I lapsed in my writing but the roller coaster continues to surge, lurch, and breeze into the station, jerking to a halt.    The amusement park isn't crowded, so I get to stay strapped in, only for the ride to thrust me forward again.

This past weekend, we visited A's parents.   Today is his mom's 70th birthday and we were in town for her party.   Saturday was an adults only dinner, followed by a small, family gathering Sunday afternoon.  At the dinner, toasts were given and I was reminded that A's parents have been together for 51 years.  I can't even imagine.   I used to think that was how we'd be, but not anymore.  Part of me isn't even sure I'd want that.   Although, admittedly, the idea of it sounds lovely and nostalgic.

We got home late on Sunday evening and as we laid in bed, again we talked about how we just weren't working out.  Between us exists a wall and although we chip at it or step back to take a running attempt at leaping over it, we just can't surmount this obstacle.   The talk was one of our cool, calm, collected ones.  I like those.  They make breathing easy.     It was decided or reconfirmed or wait, established, that I would indeed move in with my co-worker.

The next day, with the sun barely emerging in the Eastern sky, I received a barrage of text messages from A.   He  told me he was hurt and angry and needed me to know that he would only consider a separation because I wanted it, but that he believes we should move straight to divorce.   He doesn't feel safe with me, can't trust me, and has recurring images of me with S.   We are out of sync, never being able to give one another what they need at the right time.   And at this point, he's not even sure he wants to try anymore.   Everything in his life is a failure and everything he touches turns to shit.  I tried to point out to him that I was shit before he ever came near me.  My problems were mine from the very beginning.  I'm not sure those truths were duly noted by him.

The words were gut wrenching, but in some small way, I was happy he was finally saying them.   I didn't phone him, but let him continue on, getting as much out as he needed.   I know I deserve everything he says, plus some, and I want to give him any chance he needs to tell me how he feels.

That evening, when he got home from work, I was afraid to see his face.  I don't want to be afraid to see A.  In the few days since then, nothing more has really been said.

Yesterday, our dog ran away in a very busy part of town and he was unable to get her.  I know how special she is to him, so I left work early and loaded the boys into the car, "lost dog" signs in tow, to try to find her.   Before we reached the spot where she was last seen, he called to tell us the pound had her.  Some kind soul had brought her in.

Helping him made me feel good.  I felt a soft spot for him developing and wondered what was so wrong with me that I felt willing to walk away from such a sweet, good man and the father of my children.

But, do I confuse love with friendship?  Or do I expect too much from my primary relationship in my life?  I have no idea.

We've talked on the phone today a few times, mostly about parenting things.  I can very much see us being excellent co parents.

Tonight, I hope to get him alone so that we can continue talking about the separation.  There are a ton of logistics to figure out with number one being....how, what, and when do we tell the boys?   Talk about being left unable to breath.

Except, in my strong moments, I see me moving out to give us some space as a gift to the boys.   The gift of two parents who are not faking it has got to count for something.

I used to love roller coasters, now they just give me a feeling of dread and worry.