Teh Awesome

Say you meet a great guy in high school. He quickly becomes one of your best friends and your boyfriend, all at once. You have fun together, you can tell him anything. A few years go by. Mostly fun times, some crappy ones. But your constant is each other. Always, you have each other. You get engaged and get married all in your first year of college. You lose a friend to suicide, gain a spouse and a condo, all in one very crazy year.

A few years after that, you have your first baby; a ridiculously adorable little girl. You work your ass off. Nine, ten, sometimes twelve or fourteen hour days. To make a better life for your family. You finish college, go on vacations. You celebrate holidays, watch your baby girl grow. You do this together.

Everything is better because you have that person. The person you joke with in tense times. The person who makes you happy. The person who lets you cry and stress out. You have inside jokes, you play air hockey, you stay up after your daughter goes to bed, just laughing and watching TV. You start to plan farther ahead in life. You dream out your life together.

One day, a couple years later, you have another, ridiculously adorable little girl. You’re happy; happy with your life, happy with your spouse, happy with your crazy baby girls. You upgrade your life a bit: sell your condo and buy a house, buy new cars. Nothing you can’t handle. None of that really matters though. What matters are that man and little girls you come home too every night. Everything you do, is to make a better life for them.

You start to get burned out on the hours of work. You see your husband and girls very little and you literally can watch them age before your eyes. You miss out on the small things. Things like your baby’s first steps. The first time your oldest rides a tricycle without training wheels. The first time your four year old uses crap correctly in a sentence. The time your baby “warshes” your camera in the toilet. (What? It’s not all good stuff.) You start to live for your vacation time.

One day, your husband comes to you and says that he has a dream of something better. A better life. A great career for him, less of one for you. A move halfway across the country. You look at this man, this man you adore, your best friend and you say hell no. You see the hurt in his eyes. You look around and you think about the life you are living. The crazy schedules, the hours spent in an office of a high rise, the outrageous amount of money you are about to plop down for private kindergarten, what you are missing out on and you say yes. Let’s do it. You move.

Then life gets a little tricky. Bad things happen. Loss, depression, crappy times. You tell yourself it will get better. You will get better. Things will be okay, because you have him, your love, your best friend, your constant. You get a unexpected surprise in the form an amazing baby boy. Unexpected, but none the less, adored. You start to think, hey maybe somehow this will work; this move, this dream, this new life.

One day you wake up to find that you lost everything while you weren’t looking. That you are loosing your husband and it’s too late to change it. That you maybe lost him years ago, even though he’s been next to you that whole time. Somehow you blinked and missed it. The sad part is, you are not just loosing a spouse. You are loosing your very best friend in this world. You have lost that life you thought you had. The happy home, the happy family, the dream. In one fell swoop, your life, the one you helped build? Is gone. Pieces of it are still there, but it’s different. Broken. Shattered even. You then start to pick up the pieces, because in reality, life moves on. It’s the only thing that can be done.

But inside? You are still shattered. You’ve lost. The promise of forever is gone. The dreams of one more baby, watching your kids grow together, vacations around the world, renewing vows at twenty years, buying an RV and traveling the US after the kids go to college? Dreams that no longer exist.

That life is gone. What’s left now is heartache. Pain. Shattered dreams. Unknowing. And three little kids who still have to be raised.

On March 3rd, 11 years ago, we said forever. We stood together in front of our friends and family and together, we promised forever. 11 years. That was our forever.

Forever? I suppose it’s just something that people say. Just a word we throw out there. Something we think we mean, until we don’t.

Forever.

I worried. Worried about sharing my story with the world. I worried so much that I didn’t sleep the night before it was posted. At all.

When Maggie said, it’s your turn, are you ready, I said yes. Not because I really was though. It’s been six months since I wrote that post. I have wondered when my turn came, if I’d say no or yes, for six long months. Not a day went by without me wondering. Truth? Any other time, any other week in between the day I sent it to her and Sunday, I may have said no. On Sunday, in that moment, I said okay. Then I didn’t sleep.

I hid all day yesterday. I may hide more. I am afraid. I am vulnerable and that scares me. I put my deepest darkest secrets out into the world and it terrifies me. It shouldn’t. I’ve shared other things and you all have supported me. I have read each and every comment over there. Everyone has been sweet and kind. I’m still scared. This is different. This? I wish I didn’t even have to know, much less share it with everyone.

Six months ago I wrote that post. I wrote it because I was triggered. I wrote it because I had too. It was time. Time to be honest. Time to stop stuffing it. Time to learn to deal with it. It was one of the hardest things I ever did. I didn’t think I was strong enough to post it. I was grateful when Maggie said, it could be months before it goes up. I’m still not sure I’m strong enough to talk about it. I hit send that day, sent it to Maggie for VU, because a friends bravery made me think I may be strong enough.Then, because I was hysterical and needed to be talked of a ledge, I sent it to someone else. Then? I had to deal with it.

I’ve been in therapy ever since then. First to deal with the that, then to deal with my current situation. Both in fact. YAY me. Sigh.

I’ve been on the edge of tears for two days now. I can’t even tell you for sure why I’m writing this. Maybe its because writing helps me. Maybe it’s because I have a knack for feeling like I should explain or apologize. Maybe??? Who knows.

I apologize often. For everything. For nothing. For things I perceive to be failures on my part. For things I perceive that I’ve said badly. It annoys some people. I’ve actually lost friends because of it. I eventually have to tell friends, I say I’m sorry often, but I swear to you, I never say it if I don’t mean it. It’s just that I always feel I need to say I’m sorry about something.

It’s one of the many things that I do because of my childhood. I know this. I’ve been told this in therapy. Will I ever stop doing it? I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not sure that it matters. There are other things. Some small, some major. The thing is, it changed who I would become. From seven years old, I became a little adult. I had no choice. My choice was taken away.

You think you can stuff it away. That if you don’t talk about it, it isn’t real. That as long as you get up and live your life, you’ve done okay. I believed for years that as long as I protected my kids one day, none of this mattered. It isn’t true though. It changed me. Not dealing with it changed me. Dealing with it, these past six months has changed me again.
I thought I’d feel better sharing. Thought it would free me in some way. Make it somehow easier. Maybe in a day or two, or a week or two, this will be the case.

I’m worried. Worried that what I shared is too much. Worried that I burdened you all.

Mostly though, I’m scared. Scared that this forever changes how you will look at me, think about me. Others have shared and I have not felt different about them at all. Not in the least. I’ve always wondered if that’s because I understand. Because I get it. I get them. However, I’m still scared. Exposed. Tired. Scared.

I always say that my life started the day I walked into Freshman English and met him. For me, my life did start that day. Fourteen years old and my life began. I’d never been in love, I’d never even had a boyfriend. He became my entire world in what seemed like moments. We had a group of friends that we did things with, but we were always together. We had a blast together. I knew I loved him, I knew I’d marry him, when I was fourteen years old.

I didn’t move away to go to school. He didn’t get in where I did. I choose him. I never regretted that choice. Why move away from everything I knew when I had no idea what I wanted to be? Why go to the huge school where I’d know no one, when I could go to the school with all of my friends? I don’t say this to blame him. I choose him. Consciously. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately.

Not to long after that, I asked him to marry me. He said yes and then asked me six weeks later. I, of course, said yes. We got married the following spring. Nineteen years old. I actually didn’t turn nineteen until we’d been married six weeks. Two and a half years later, Morgan was born. Planned, wanted, adored. Bailey came two and a half years after that. Planned, wanted and adored.

Three years later, we moved here. We followed his dreams. We left everything for his dreams. Again, I made the choice. I could have said no and he’d of gotten over it. But I took a chance.

Then life fell apart. I had a 14 week miscarriage and somehow lost myself. I lost the woman I once was. I’ve managed to rebuild myself. But the new me? Is not carefree. Is not all that easy going. Is different. Damaged in some ways. I have changed. Life changed me. I am not that person anymore. I can’t be that person anymore. She stopped existing on July 26, 2007. I am not the woman he married. Not anymore. Not in a long time.

Somehow in the past few years, I lost more than I realized. Somehow in the past few years, I lost my husband. Even though, until a month ago, he was here next to me. I lost him. He lost me. Maybe we lost each other and I just didn’t realize it. He did, but he waited. He waited to tell me he was done, for eighteen months at least. He waited, because I was pregnant with our son and then, because we had a newborn. He waited because he hoped he was mistaken. He waited to make sure I was okay. He waited because he hoped I’d become that girl again. He wanted that girl I used to be. But I can’t be that for him anymore, because I can’t seem to be that for me.

So, I’m here. Alone. Just me. I get to pick up the pieces. I get to figure out what happens next. I get to learn to share my kids. I get to learn how to be without him.

The problem is? I don’t know where I begin and where he ends. I don’t know how to be without him. I don’t know how to start thinking I and me, instead of we. I don’t know how to do this. How do I do this? How do I move on? How can I stop loving him, the way he stopped loving me? I want to know how to do that. I want to know how, because this is breaking my heart. I am not even sure, I have a heart anymore. I feel like it’s been so broken, it may as well not exist.

Now it’s me. Just me. Me and my kids. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what to do next. I’m just here. Trying to breath. Trying to make it through each day. And it sucks. And it’s not fair. And it hurts. I just want my life back. I want to know where I lost it, so I can go back and get it.

I don’t understand. I want to understand, but I don’t understand.

I have always been good at faking it. Faking being fine. Faking having fun. Faking, faking, faking. I am gifted at it. It’s a life long thing for me. I am so great at it, that sometimes? Sometimes I even fool myself. It was how I got through childhood. It was easier for me to be like that then to deal with my emotions. I was the good kid. Invisible when need be. The voice of reason. The peace maker. The responsible one. Always.

The problem is, I am tired of faking it. It’s too much work. Way more energy then I have right now. I am struggling to just make it. To make sure my kids make it. To get out of bed each day. I have nothing left.

I get up every day and do what I need to do. I take care of myself. I take care of my kids. My house is mostly clean, the laundry is done, the dog is fed and well cared for and there are meals made each day. I have showered each day. I have been and will keep going to therapy. I swear, I am taking my meds. I haven’t fallen of any cliffs.

But I’m tired of faking it.

You want to know the truth? The truth is my husband says he hasn’t loved me in over a year and a half. Our son isn’t even that old yet. I thought he needed space, time, to grow up or something. I was going to suggest he move out for a few weeks. He has already brought up divorce.

The truth is, I had to tell my girls about this myself, because he couldn’t be bothered to find a time to do so. He thought I’d just lie to them about where he was, until he made time for it. While it might have been easier, it wasn’t the right thing to do. Telling them, helping them deal, giving them space to rage and cry and be angry, is the right thing to do.

The truth is, I don’t have it in me to read posts, to comment, to play on Twitter or even really to play bejeweled. Instead of that? I spent half the day making a ‘Best Of’ page on this blog. Not that it was really any easier to read old happy posts of my own either. But that’s what I did today.

The truth is that I’m overwhelmed. That I started crying last Friday night at Liz’s house and haven’t fully stopped since then. I know I CAN do this. I know I WILL do this. But it’s scary. And big. And hard.

Somehow I have to learn to deal with the fact that the life I’ve had since I was fourteen years old, the life I had with him is over. My life, my kids life isn’t over. But that life, that true love that I had, or thought I had, is over.

All that’s left is my pain and my inability to fake it. Sadly, that is one of his main issues with me. I guess I have become to real. Too real for him. So here we are. This is my new life. That’s my truths and I just can’t fake it anymore.

The truth is that I’m heart broken. My heart is crushed. Gone. I can’t fake otherwise. Instead? I’m going to try to deal with it. To be sad. To grieve. To try to rebuild my broken heart. Because that seems somehow easier than faking it.

Nine months ago, I met my best friend on Twitter. Her name is Liz. Maybe you’ve heard me mention her? Once, twice, twenty-two times possibly?

Met is a strong word, considering it is Twitter. In that moment, I didn’t know she’d be my best friend within seconds. What? Okay fine, minutes maybe. Ha. Felt like seconds.

We went back and forth on Twitter for a few days. I felt a little bad when I realized she’d been following me for months and I’d never bothered to follow back. She’s quiet like that. I stopped feeling bad, when I realized she’d read my previous blog and NEVER EVER COMMENTED. Ahem. She swears she would have on this one, one day.

One night, I don’t remember what I wanted to ask her, but I didn’t think it should be out there for all of Twitter to see, so I DM’ed her. Which led to, I believe, two solid hours of DM’s back and forth, before one of us was smart enough to say, do you want to chat in Gmail? That first DM to her, is the best decision I’ve made all year.

The rest is history. We are twins. Twins from another mother. Seriously. Sometimes it’s frightening how much alike we are. Other times I wonder who this crazy woman is and why in the world she likes me. Maybe I think that often. Only because I’m really the crazy one, not her. She’d yell at me for that. Calling myself crazy. She yells often. It’s always the quiet ones, I swear.

Some find it funny when I say I met my best friend on Twitter. Some find it insane that I can say someone is my best friend, when she lives 4 states and 1237 miles away from me. I don’t know that I care what “they” say. What I know is this: nine months ago, I met the greatest friend I’ve ever had. The end.

I love saying that. The end. I *may* have stolen it from Liz. She says it to me all the time. As in: the end, I’m right, you are wrong, now go do what I said. The end. She may be bossy. And stubborn. And…oh um, I’ll stop now. I kind of need to make sure she comes and gets me from the airport this morning. See, I’m going to spend New Years at her house. I really need to make sure that she picks me up.

This had been a hard year for me. The last three months have been very, very hard. I don’t know that I could have made it without Liz. I’m not joking. She has been like a rock for me. Screw that, she has been my rock. She has been there every time I’m fallen, to pick me up and duct tape me back together again. When I tell Liz I’m sinking, she reminds me that duct tape doesn’t sink, it floats. She doesn’t flinch when I show her the worst parts of myself. She yells at me when I need yelling and reminds me to breath when I forget. She knows the absolute worst things about me, about my life and she still loves me. She loves me enough to never let me push her away, which I am really good at trying to do. It’s hard to let someone that close, to show them all of your inner scars and heartaches and not feel like you’ve shared too much. To not want to shove them away, so you don’t have to look at them the next day. But she never, ever lets me. For this? I am eternally grateful.

Today, I am, for the first time ever, looking forward to New Years. Because I am about to leave my house and fly to spend the next four days with my best friend and her awesome family. That makes today a great day. Today I get to hug my best friend a million times. Today I get to cry and be a spaz in person…okay maybe not. Am mostly joking about the spaz part. The crying…eh, I don’t know that I can help it. Or the spazziness really. Oh well.

I’ve done a lot this year. Met some amazing people. Made some amazing friends. Friends that I don’t think I can imagine not having in my life. Friends, who make me laugh, let me cry and vent and help me hold myself together. For the first year ever, I feel supported by amazing people. People who know the real me.

I’ve done some things I never thought I could do. Hai, I flew to Chicago to meet bloggers. Loads of them. In person. Alone. I talked in front of a room full of strangers and didn’t pee myself or faint away dead. Course I did have phone hand holding for oh an hour before I did that. Seriously. I flew to Vegas to meet Liz In September, not knowing for sure if she was an ax murderer wanting to kill me. LOL. I never believed that….although some people I know did.

I’ve dealt with some things that I thought would sink me forever.

I was able to do it all, because I knew I had someone holding my hand, reminding me that baby steps are okay; reminding me that it is progress to get to the next day. Someone who lets me hide sometimes and other times, does not let me hide at all; for knowing the difference and knowing which I needed most in the moment.

I have wanted this year to end for a long time. Next year may not be any easier. I know the first part of the year won’t be. I know that because last night, my husband and I decided that he needs to move out. Meaning, last night he packed some bags and left. It was not just his choice, but I wasn’t/am not prepared for the things I heard. For the reality that is my new life. I’d like to say he’s moving out for awhile, but from what I hear, it’s probably for good. There is a lot I could say, a lot that needs to be said. But right now, I just can’t yet. I am broken. My heart was shattered and I need a few days before I say anything more about it. It’s been hard enough to say it at all.

For me, today is a mixed day. I am wrecked after last night. I am numb. It hasn’t fully sunk in. I knew it was coming, had weeks to prepare for the actual conversation, but it didn’t make it any easier. It may have been one of the longer, harder nights of my life. I don’t know what my life holds when I get back. But today I get to go away from it.

Today is not a day for this. There will be tons of time for it later. Today is a day for happy stuff. I get a break from this for a few days. A break from my life. Today I get to go see my best friend. And that makes it all better. At least for the next four days.

I hope you all have a wonderful New Year. Hopefully 2010 will be a better year for us all.