There are days when I think I won’t make it through the pain. That its just too much for me. That I’m not strong enough for it. I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could turn back time to the day I let my secrets show and take it all back. I wonder if I’d of been happier just keeping it quiet forever.
Each day, something comes to mind, that makes me think, I was better not thinking about it. It doesn’t help me to realize the small things in my life that could have been different, if it weren’t for what all happened to me as a kid.
It’s been a long, really hard, very dark grey winter. I need spring. I need summer. I need sunshine. I don’t need more weeks of cold and rain and snow in fucking May. I can’t handle more grey. My head is so grey some days, I could really use the outside world to be bright.
I got a phone call from my brother. Just to talk about the trip I’m taking to his house next month. I said, hey, you know what, keep this between us okay? I don’t really want dad knowing I’m coming. Oh shit sis, he said. You are about two days two late.
I am spazzing out tonight. I unfortunately am gifted at this part. I can’t let it go. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop wishing that I could be happy to go see my dad.
It only matters that my dad knows, if he tells his wife, who may then tell her children. Shouldn’t matter, but it does. It does matter. I don’t have to see them. Honestly I won’t have time. If I did, I’d make sure I didn’t. But I don’t. That doesn’t make me feel any better though.
All I want to do is cry. I want to curl up in a ball and disappear. I want to run away to that island my friends and I talk about on shitty days. We talk about it, like it’s the island Kenny Chesney does his music videos on. Right now? I’d take the island that Tom Hanks talked to a volleyball on for years.
I am 30 years old and I’m scared of a phone call. From someone who can’t hurt me anymore. From someone who wouldn’t bother to show up where I was even if he knew where I was, because he could care less. That knowledge, doesn’t make me any less terrified.
He called me on my birthday. Because the next day was his birthday, we were born in the same year, he unfortunately is smart enough to remember this. Can’t keep a job or an apartment, can’t act like a human being, but oh he can remember my fucking birthday. Every few years he re-finds my number and calls me. I used to brush it off. I couldn’t this year. Even now? Three weeks later? I’m still having nightmares.
I am not brave enough for this. I am not strong enough for this. I want to shut this back away. This fear. This reality. I don’t want to remember. I want to forget.
I know I can’t and it sucks. I know I have to deal with it alone for awhile and it sucks. The fact that I can’t afford to send my child and I both to therapy, sucks. She comes first. Always. She is in need, she is hurting, this all I know. There is no question. I do wonder how long I can go without talking. Because talking does help.
There are people with way more problems than me. I know this. I see it every single day. I wish I had a magic wand to help, but I don’t.
I can’t even seem to help myself. I can’t stop being afraid of nothing. Logically I know that because my brother said my mom will be showing up at his house too, my dad will never tell his wife. Who won’t mention it to her children. Because really? She hates me and wouldn’t want to see me and never brings me up in conversation on purpose. Logic and fear though, don’t mix so well.
I’m afraid tonight. The fear is winning. I’m sad tonight. I’m depressed. And I can’t do a dam thing to stop it.
Maybe if you weren’t so depressed and negative all the time you’d have “real life” friends. She didn’t need to add the quotes in there for me to get that, I know she meant it by the way she said it. Real life, not Internet people. Words full of anger. Words full of hurt. More meaning behind them, then anything she has said to me in a year. This friend of mine. Supposed friend, I should say. This person who is supposed to know me. Supposed to be my friend for life. This woman who I’ve known since pre-school, isn’t really my friend anymore.
I am too negative for her. I am too depressed for her. She, like my soon to be ex-husband, wishes I could be that woman who I was before. Before miscarriages. Before depression. Before separation. Before.
The people who were supposed to be there for me forever, just want me to be someone I’m not. They want me to fake it. To pretend I am okay.
I can’t. It hurts to think that I am not enough for anyone. That I am too much to deal with. That I’m very much alone. That the people, the friends I’ve known forever, the ones I considered family, don’t really want to know me anymore. If I think about it too long, it hurts to breath. It’s more than I can comprehend.
I’m not that girl anymore, the girl she wants me to be. She no longer exists. That girl I once was is gone. In her place is a woman who is stronger than she believes she is. (Or so my best friends keep telling me. ahem.) A woman who does everything for anyone. A woman who continues to get out of bed, no matter how much she doesn’t want too. That woman is me. That girl? Isn’t.
The truth is, it’s not just her. I’ve lost most of my supposed friends in the past year. I feel like I’ve lost some readers/some friends because of what I post. I get it, I’m depressing. I’m no fun to read. It’s okay. I’ve pushed some people away I think, because I don’t have enough in me to give most day. I’m doing the best I can. My best just may not be good enough.
Real life friends. Shit. My real life friends don’t actually want to know me. Real life. Like the friends I’ve made online aren’t real. Whatever.
I don’t have to see people every day, for them to be true friends. If I’ve learned anything in the past year, it would be that. True friends don’t fit in some tiny little box. At least not in my world.
In her world? I guess they do. I guess I’ve fallen out of that box. It’s killing me. But I can’t change it. I don’t even want to change it. However, it does make me unbelievably sad.
Want to know the truth? Without the friends I’ve made online, I’d have no friends. None. In some ways, that terrifies me. In other ways, I’m comforted by the fact that I do have the greatest friends known to man. The greatest, most caring, most amazing friends I could ever hope for. Some of them…some of you are better friends than I’ve ever had. Truly.
Is it different? Yes. Is different always bad? No.
I have friends who I can text/email/IM/call any time of day. I have friends who check in on me if they haven’t seen me around. I have two of the best friends in the world.Friends who have held me together the past few months. I don’t know that I could ever repay them for it.
What I know is this: tomorrow morning I’m flying to visit friends. Amazing friends. Friends that I met online. Friends who are okay with me, as I am. Friends who love me and support me and hold my hand whenever I need it.
This is what true friendship is.
It comes and goes. The sadness. The grief. There are days, even sometimes days in a row, where I am okay with my life. Days where I wake up in a good mood. Days where the world seems sunny. Days where I get tons done. Where my kids seem happy and I feel happy.
Then I wake up in a panic at 2am one morning and I realize it’s all gone. Everything I’ve spend 11 years creating is gone. It hits me like a ton of bricks. This is my life now. This isn’t a phase. This isn’t going to change. This is real. It literally hurts me to breath. I can feel my heart breaking all over again. I over think and over think and then? I over think some more. I can’t seem to stop it. Today is one of those days. Yesterday was one of those days.
I just want to give up. I want to run away. I am having a hard time seeing any good. In anything. It sucks. There is no way around that, it just plain sucks.
I think about the fact that in a month and a day, I’m going to be 30 years old. Every single thing that I thought my life would be now, when I was 20 years old, isn’t here. I feel like a failure. I feel like I wasted 10 years of my life. I don’t even know what I want to do with myself now. I feel like at the very least, I should by now have some semblance of a clue. But I’ve got nothing.
It just plain sucks. Today just sucks.
I sit around a lot. I play a ton of Bejeweled. I watch a ton of TV. I turned back on my Netflix account, just to have new movies to watch. Basically, I don’t know what to do without them. I don’t know what to do with myself when my kids are with their dad. I don’t know who I am without them.
I’ve spent my entire life with someone. First my parents and siblings. With two little brothers, I was never alone as a child. My mom’s best friend was a single mom, with kids the same age as us. James and Meredith practically lived with us half the time. Everything we did as kids, they and their mother were invited. Vacations, BBQs, dinners out, trips to the park. Everything was done by committee. Everything was fairly split between five children. I was never alone. Even though I’m the only girl in my family, I had two beds in my room. One for me and one for Meredith. That’s how much time we spent together.
I went to the college that Logan and my friends went too. Part of me wanted to go away, to go to Santa Cruz. I had applied and I did get in. But the reality was, it seemed too scary. I didn’t know what I wanted to study and I knew I’d possibly not make it a semester alone before coming home. So I didn’t even bother.
I married young. I have spent the last 11 years in a give and take relationship. Decisions were made together. Mostly at least. We had kids young. It was just the thing that came naturally for us. Everything since has been as a family.
Movie nights, game nights, vacations, shopping for birthday gifts, sharing cleaning and child wrangling, fighting over who has to freaking pick already which restaurant we are going to. You know, life. Life as a family.
Now, it’s just me. I do not know how to be alone. I am nearly thirty years old and I’ve never been alone. Now I am. Half of the time. It sucks. I hate it. I’m past the point of it making me completely panicked, which is a good thing. I take myself to movies on the weekends when I don’t have the kids. I clean the house. I do the laundry. I run as many errands as I can handle. I don’t sit at home and cry all weekend. I am improving. On the weekends and nights I have them, I give in too easily. I try to make it as fun as possible. I’m working on it, but it’s hard not too, because I don’t have them all the time. I know that Logan is fighting with the same thing. We luckily keep them on the exact same schedule, so that’s something at least.
But it’s hard. Hard to know who I am without them. I am not sure I want to know who I am without them. In fact, I know at this moment, that I don’t. I know that sounds bad. I’m sure it’s not very progressive or whatever.
I don’t care though. Not yet. Right now, I just wait. I wait for my heart, my three little loves to come home to me.
The first time that I saw you, Lookin like you did We were young, we were restless, Just two clueless kids, If I knew then, what I know now, I’d fall in love.
Those are lyrics from a Lady Antebellum song. It’s a better verse than I could ever come up with.
In some ways it says everything I’ve been trying to write for hours. Days maybe.
Here’s the thing, if I knew then, what I know now? I’d still fall in love.
Today is my 11th anniversary. No matter what else is happening. Even though, I won’t make it to the 12th. We made it 11 years. We made it longer than most people who get married at 19 years old. We made a great little family, that doesn’t cease to exist, just because we aren’t together any more. Does that make me feel better today? Not really. But it doesn’t negate the fact that for the past 16 years, we’ve been mostly happy together. How many people can say that?
Today should be a celebration, but it’s not. I don’t want spend all day feeling the way I’ve felt for the past few days, but I find myself pretty much unable to stop it. I keep thinking about the last ten years of this day. I want to try and remember the good, try to remember the life that was great, instead of the end. Instead of what this day should be.
I’m going to at least try to not curl up in a ball and hide all day. I’ve already gotten up and showered, I’ve gotten coffee and a donut. I plan on buying some cake later, because cake makes everything better. Tonight? I’ll take my kids out for dinner and then come home and watch American Idol with my girls. It might not seem like much, but it’s enough. Today, it’s enough. Fake it, till you make it. Or something like that.
I’d still fall in love. If I was somehow able to go back in time, to see fourteen old me? I’d still ask him out. If I could go back and see eighteen year old me? I’d still ask him to marry me. I don’t regret my life, I don’t regret our life, but I can’t change what it is now either.
Happy 11th anniversary to me.
Cause love only comes once in awhile, Knocks on your door and throws you a smile, And takes every breath, Leaves every scar, Speaks to your soul, And sings through your heart, And if I knew then, what I know now, Whoaa if i knew then, what I know now, I’d fall in love.
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 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.
Of everything, that may have been the one that broke my heart the most. Harder than sitting my babies down last night and explaining that daddy was going to live at cousin Ray’s house for a while. Maybe for a long while. That they’ll still see him, but most likely will never live here again. Harder than watching Bailey shut down. Harder than listening to Morgan scream and rage at me for half an hour, until I finally carried her and put her in bed. Harder than laying in her bed and eventually sitting outside her door listening to her sob, until she finally fell asleep.
Is it still real mommy, whispered to me at 2am, may have been the worst. I pulled her into bed with me and whispered the words that I knew she didn’t want to hear, yes baby, it’s still real. She laid there with me, cuddling and crying for about an hour and then went back to her bed. It’s too crowded in here she said. Yes, it was crowded, since her little sister and brother were already in the bed. Mostly though, she needed her space. I get it, but I wish it wasn’t like this.
It is though. Reality has set in and I don’t like it. My girls don’t like it. One is raging at me, angry, so very angry. Wanting me to fix it, wanting daddy to actually show up, so she can yell at him too. The other is shutting down and I’m helpless to stop it. Harrison, thankfully has no clue what is going on. Yet. One day, he will.
Their father and I have wrecked their world. We’ve inflicted pain on them; pain that they shouldn’t have to deal with at five and eight years old. Too much pain. I would do anything to take it back. To make their world innocent again. I can’t. I can’t make this go away. I wish I could, but it’s not possible.
I never wanted this for them. I know this pain. I know how horrible it is. Yet here I am, doing the same thing to them that I swore I’d never do.
Last night, I changed them forever. No matter what, I can’t change that. I just hope they end up okay. I just hope I can explain things to them in the right way, things that I don’t fully understand. This knocked our world out from under us. I pray that I am strong enough to rebuild it in the way they need me too. That I can do this better than my parents did.
That I can remember that this is about them now, not me.
Because yes, it is still real.
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.
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