Reunite THIS

As I have mentioned (possibly obsessively), my twenty-year high school reunion is coming up. In fact, it's next week. Deciding not to attend any of the 'official' events took a lot of pressure off of me, but now I'm all wound up about the one party that I was looking forward to.

I will once again be co-hosting the so-called Anti-Reunion Party. The official event name is The Reunion After-Party, but I'll be the one there early to welcome any stragglers who skip or defect from the actual reunion. Like I said - I was excited about it... until last night. Last night, I met up with my cohorts to make our preliminary plan for the party (um, we're gonna unlock the door and have a keg...) and decide on our 'safe words' to get each other out of uncomfortable conversations - I can't reveal our secret code words here, but if you happen to see me acting like a chicken (an actual chicken), then PLEASE come save me from whoever has cornered me.

All of that was fine. It wasn't until my accomplices started giggling over their 'People That I Hope Show Up So I Can Flirt Shamelessly With Them' lists that I got a little bit sad. Not only do I not have one of those lists, but I'm pretty sure that the extra weight I'm carrying and the sadness in my eyes will ensure that I'm not on anybody else's list. As they clicked through facebook profiles and flipped through old yearbooks, I felt worse and worse.

I'm not looking to hook up with anybody that I went to high school with. I'm not looking to hook up with anybody at all right now... but it would be nice to be flirted with. It would be nice to be desired. It would be big fun to hear 'I had the biggest crush on you back then'... but I wasn't that girl then. I was smart and nice and fun. Everybody's friend. Nobody's crush... and I'm not that girl now. Newly separated, horribly wounded, stay-at-home mother of a toddler doesn't exactly scream 'glamour' or 'fun'...

But I will suck it up and put on a sparkly top, some decent jeans and a killer pair of heels. I will smile and nod and giggle over old photos. I will not feel sorry for myself for not having a Flirt List... o.k., I'll feel a little bit sorry, but not for long. I will be fine. I'll be better than fine. I'll be me.

*Big Sigh*, *Little Shrug*

I'm still here. I'm still making it through every day. The minute-to-minute of my days isn't bad. In fact, right now it's pretty good. The Child and I seem to have found our groove again, and aside from fairly frequent two-year-old Drama Queen incidents, we are once again moving along together pretty happily.

The hardest part is the evenings. The Man and I are still 'separated'. For us, that means that after he puts The Child to bed, we sometimes watch a few minutes of t.v. - sometimes we don't - but every night we head into separate beds. Oh, and weekends are hard, too. We're in this weird limbo of wanting The Child to have good days, so we try to all hang out together. It falls flat. After our outing today, my stomach was in knots and I felt sick. Not because anything awful had happened, but because it was hard to spend time with him.

When I made my big pronouncement, I wondered if it would be a trial separation that would end in reconciliation. Now that we're a few weeks in, it just seems to be more and more clear that we're simply going our separate ways. He's made no changes to his behaviors. In fact, he's smoking more, acting a bit surly and going to fewer meetings. He's made no move to communicate any sort of feeling or emotion to me. Our general communication has pretty much broken down, and we're left throwing information over our shoulders as we walk out the door.

I had a husband and a partner and a best friend. Now I have a roommate. A roommate who's not particularly eager to spend any time with me...

Wrung Out

I'm a mess, you guys.

In the wake of a horrible week (or two) during which the entire universe seemed to be screaming 'GET OUT OF THAT MARRIAGE' at me, I told The Man that I needed to separate. Yep, you heard me. Of course, we can't even begin to afford a true separation, so he's living in the guest room.

It's awful.

Now I REALLY need to get a job so that we can truly get some distance.

I just... I can't believe that I've allowed myself to go on like this for so long. I'm a wreck. I've put on weight. I'm cranky all of the time. I'm jealous and suspicious and I spend countless hours obsessing over what he could be doing. It's not o.k. for this to be me. I cannot continue to be this woman. It is imperative that I find my way back to being healthy and happy so that I can raise a strong, healthy daughter.

I hate it that I'm here. Here is hard. Here makes me feel like a dummy who was too blind to see that her husband has been cheating on her for years and years. Here makes me feel like a doormat who wanted so badly for everything to be 'like it should' that she repeatedly went back to a man who never changed.

I wish that I could find another way to get there, but for now, the only way out that I can see lies in making some space.

Dog Days

Holy COW you guys! It is so hot here that I may melt. Literally.

While it would be nice if fat actually liquidated at a certain (achievable) outdoor temperature, I may have to stick to It's Too Damn Hot To Eat as my 'diet' plan instead of relying on good ol' Mister Sun to melt away my butt.

So, I feel better. I really do think that I have some level of cyclical depression. After feeling almost immobile last week, I woke up Saturday morning and cleaned the house so that I wouldn't have to come back from our overnight trip and walk into a mess. I was clear-headed and felt positive.

Other than the angst and exhaustion of having The Man gone for 3 days and 2 nights, I've continued to feel pretty good. My house is tidy. The Child and I kept our bickering to a bare (heat-induced) minimum. We managed to eat real, healthy food without outside assistance. Good times.

Now, if only I could figure out this whole job 'thing', I'd be riding high.

Snippets

The Man went to a mini-retreat over the weekend. I think that it was helpful to him, but not quite the epiphany he was hoping for.

-------------

This week is his first long business trip since I found out. I feel a bit fragile. I have read the e-mails. I know what he would normally be doing. It's up to him to not only not contact strangers for sex, but to do the right thing because he wants to - not because he thinks he'll get in trouble.

Just like every other stage in this process, it's all up to him.

I love him and I hope that he is successful. I really hate that all I can do is sit and wait.

--------------

This whole process is exhausting.

Slogging Through

Ya'll, I think I'm depressed. Wait, scratch that - I know that I'm depressed, but I think that this bout might be a bit more serious that I originally thought.

I've battled depression since my twenties. I had episodes then when it was just too much work to get out of bed. I have since learned to control it better, and even to occasionally head it off. This one's a doozie, though. I have insomnia, but can't wake up in the morning. I have headaches and feel fuzzy-brained most of the time. My temper's on a hair-trigger. I just can't seem to get anything done.

I was attributing a lot of this to a combination of grief and PMS. While those are both valid concerns in my life, neither can completely explain the absolute mess of my house, the sink full of dirty dishes and the fact that I can't keep a thought in my head for more than 5 minutes.

I'm wildly disorganized right now. Me. The list maker. The planner. The over-scheduled whirlwind who can't say no. Well, I still can't say no, but I don't remember to do whatever it was, either. Yesterday, I agreed to do a massage for a friend. I told The Man about it when he got home. In the next 2 hours, I proceeded to forget about it no fewer than 3 times, and almost forgot to get up and leave not 5 minutes after The Man reminded me. Tonight, I glared at the mess in my home and thought 'it's a good thing that all I have to do tomorrow is sleep and maybe clean up while The Baby is at parent's day out... hey, maybe our friends will want to go swimming tomorrow afternoon...' In actuality, I have a completely full day tomorrow. No time for sleeping. No time for afternoon swimming.

Then there's the crying. I keep crying. Sappy moments on t.v. Poorly written paperbacks. Lying next to The Baby for two minutes while she drifts back to sleep. I'm like a faucet over here! Of course, the crying makes the headaches worse. Yay.

I'm not sure what to do about this, folks. I'm not convinced that I can snap out of this one by speaking sternly with myself or forcing myself out of the house. Other than counseling (with a therapist; not a doctor who can prescribe the big guns), I've never sought professional help for depression before. I don't even know who to call. Then there's co-pays and prescriptions. We can't afford this stuff right now!

Oi. I really wish I could sleep.

Mired or Just Tired?

Today is a weird day. It's the first day of my first period since the miscarriage. While I welcome the renewal that this brings to my body and I am thankful for the sign that my poor system is recovering, it still sucks.

I have been dealt a whopper of a case of PMS this go-round, and I have happily flung it around like monkey poo. Let me tell you - it's been just about as welcome as flung poop. Wildly moody, completely irrational, greasily acne-covered, bloated... the list goes on and on.

Oh, don't let me forget to add 'Itchin' For A Fight', because that's exactly where I am right now. Last weekend, I sniped, snipped and griped at The Man until we (ummmm, me) had a full-blown meltdown. This one was a heartbreaking melange of my deepest fears and most volcanic rages. I spewed forth a diatribe that started with 'I HATE that you have an addiction that involves sex. Now every time you turn me down, all I can see is the list of people that you practically begged for sex.' It continued on with 'I've sublimated what I want sexually for 18 years and now I find out that you're giving it away to every whore on the internet with a digital camera. I see. So it's not that you don't want sex, it's just that you don't want it with me.' I even ended it with a rousing round of 'well, maybe it's time that we both find people who are more interested in meeting our needs.' It would seem that I have a bit of truly poisonous anger lurking just beneath my surface.

The man doesn't even know how to begin to respond to all of this. He's so busy trying to make his life look the way that he thinks it should. He's the one tap dancing now. I'm the one raving about how I feel and how hard this is for me. He's doing his steps and going to his meetings and presenting the front of 'I've got this. It's easy-peasy.'

I wish that in this, he could just be a little bit less male. I wish that he could say 'I had a hard day. I thought about acting out' or 'the step I'm working on makes me feel like a complete asshole'... but he doesn't say those things, and I am left feeling like an overbearing lunatic who wears her heart on her forehead and airs her dirty laundry on the internet.

I just don't know, ya'll. I don't want to give up on The Man or our marriage. I do know that I'm tired of feeling like this. I know that I'm tired of worrying that the worst is yet to come. I say that I want to move forward. I complain that I don't know how. I seem to be living out the definition of insanity.

Don't Want To

Ya'll, I am FREAKING OUT. The next step forward is just more awful than I can contemplate right now. Let me just tell you now that this is about to get graphic and awful... again... I couldn't throw away my baby. It was more than I could bear. I kept as much tissue as I could (it's in the freezer), and now I have to deal with it.

My mama found a box for me, and with the help of a friend she found some liturgy to read. I just don't know if I can handle something so structured.

This baby didn't make it any farther along it's journey than the others, and I didn't have anything to bury with them. It's my body that created this situation, and it feels weird to put the focus on this particular pregnancy when it shouldn't have been any different than the others.

Today I contemplated building a fire in our chiminea and saying goodbye on my own, but I don't want to presume that The Man doesn't need to be there... maybe it's important to him to say good bye as well... I don't know what he wants, and that worries me. He's been so busy lately that he's not here even when he's around. I'm working overtime at not freaking out. This is how his addictive cycle starts. He lets himself compartmentalize in order to get through what needs to be done for work, and then he's able to keep compartmentalizing and rationalizing... but it's not my battle to fight. It's his. All I can do is be a living reminder of why he wants to recover. Of course, I'm so whacked out right now that I'd pretty much kill for an addiction of my own to retreat into... o.k. fine. I don't really want that... but I'd dearly love a reason to act out.

I feel lost right now. I feel desperate to claim control over SOMETHING. Anything. I want to go back to work. I want to contribute to our family and this world. I want to stop losing my temper with my daughter. I want to get some sleep that feels like rest. I want to stop worrying that The Man will fall into addictive patterns. I want to feel as confident as I keep telling everyone that I am.

What the fuck am I going to do with the baby?

Making Room

There is not a lot of room for grief in our society. Instead of offering you a place to be sad, most people offer platitudes (it happens for a reason) and reasons why you should have perked up by now (you still have your healthy child).

To a large degree, most folks seem to have lost the ability to empathize. A good friend of mine lost her brother to leukemia when we were in our early twenties. As grief does, it would occasionally wash over her in waves. Friends would ask her what was wrong. 'I'm sad about my brother.' 'Wasn't that, like, last year?'

I had a massage client once who was trying to grieve a loss. She had been stoic for so long because showing her pain meant listening to 'well meaning' persons lecture her on how good her life still was. I made space for her grief, and she cried through her session. It was one of the most wonderful moments of my career. I felt blessed to have been a part of her process.

My own grief has felt like a cartoon amoeba. A little bit taller than me, and shadowing my every move. Sometimes It just hangs out near me and tickles the edge of my awareness with it's cilia. Other times it gloms on to part of me, but leaves me able to function. Yesterday, it engulfed me. It was hard to breathe and I cried every time that I slowed down even briefly. It left me hollow-eyed, unable to sleep and drained. 

I don't have time for this. The Toddler is an emotional sponge. She has taken my grief and turned it into endless whining tantrums and sleepless anguish. Even now she's glued to the floor of her room with her face pressed into the crack under her door BEGGING me to let her out. Protesting furiously that she can't sleep. She's been there for half an hour. I, on the other hand, am so tired that I can barely function. Yesterday, I fell asleep on her floor while she played boisterously. I didn't even wake up fully when The Man came home and took her. Today, after a mostly sleepless night, I broke down crying and begged her for sleep. She patted my face, hugged me, and announced that she wanted to 'go watch t.v. other room'.

Where is my room to grieve? How do I make the space to heal? 

Just to Clarify

When I look at what I've written for this blog, it seems like The Man isn't here. He is. He's loving us and taking care of us and doing the best that he can - just like me. He's still going to meetings. He still answers any questions that I have and allows me the space to act crazy as I try to work through all of this.

This blog is my story. I don't feel like it's my place to try and tell his story. Not that you asked... I just wanted to give him some credit for the good things that he does... especially since this is my space to bash him for the bad ones...

Anatomy of a Loss

You probably don't want to read this. It's a very graphic post. I'm writing it in order to clear it out of my head - like a Harry Potter pensieve. This is my outlet.

I’m not even sure what to say. I feel like writing about what actually happened might help me make sense of it, but it won’t. Because this doesn’t make sense. There isn’t a cut and dried reason for what is happening.

On Tuesday, I bent down to pick up The Toddler, and felt a small rush of fluid. It was a small amount of blood, and it stopped soon after.

On Wednesday, the same thing happened. I called the midwife group. I was told that it’s fairly common to spot when you squat down… and not to squat.

Wednesday night, I started cramping and the spotting continued. I called the on-call doctor. I told him that I was worried that I was miscarrying, but I didn’t think that there was anything that could be done if I was. He he was very kind, and he confirmed my thought, but said that I was always welcome to head to the ER if I felt overwhelmed or in medical danger.

I spent Thursday on the couch hoping to stop the spotting. The Toddler was strangely accommodating. We watched tv and napped. Later that night, I called my mom and cried a lot.

After I dropped my sweet girl off at Parent’s Day Out on Friday, I called the midwife group. My bleeding had increased. They asked me to come in immediately for a sonogram.

The sonographer's room had a big tv screen mounted up near the ceiling. When she began, I could see the embryonic sac and a circle that should have had a beating heart. I tried to tell myself that she was taking still images in order to measure. Then I took a deep breath and said 'there's no heartbeat.' She very kindly said 'no, I'm so sorry, but there's not. My measurements are showing right at six weeks. I take it that you're farther along than that?' 'Ten weeks' I said. She was amazed that I could interpret the image. 'Are you a nurse too?' 'No. I just pay attention...'

I went back to the midwife for a consultation. She was wonderful. Just the right mixture of sympathy, information and anger for what I had to go though. She told me that I had had a 'missed miscarriage' - the embryo stops growing, but your body doesn't get the message right away, and still thinks that you're pregnant.She offered to set up a d & c, but agreed that allowing my body to take care of itself was a healthier option. She prepared me for the fact that it could take up to another month before my body was ready to cleanse itself. We talked about how emotionally hard it might be to wait. She offered to test any tissue that I was able to keep for chromosomal anomalies - no thank you. She told me that I could meet with a neonatologist for testing before we tried for another pregnancy. She hugged me for a long time.


I thought that since I had miscarried previously, that I knew what was in store. I didn't ask enough questions.

As I drove home, a loop began to play in my head... 'the baby stopped growing at about 6 weeks. 4 weeks ago... My body has been carrying a dead embryo for four weeks. All this time I’ve been bloating, nauseated, dealing with heartburn, making plans. My body still thought it was pregnant. I look pregnant. I bought new maternity clothes.'

My mom and dad took the baby girl for the night. The Man told me that I am beautiful, and took me out on a date. He was wonderful. He took all of his cues from me. He took me to a movie and plied me with wine. He took me home and stuffed me with more wine and some dessert. We were just… together.

The next morning, I woke up just before my mama called to say that our darling was awake and asking for me. She brought her home, and since I felt fine, the two of us headed out for The Man’s office to help him rearrange his furniture and clean up.

I should have stayed home. I started contracting in earnest around 9 am. Soon after, I felt the pressure on my tailbone that signals movement down and out the cervix. The Man kept the baby girl occupied. I spent the next hour and a half breathing through contractions every 5 to 10 minutes and losing blood and tissue at a steady rate. I felt like a lunatic. Acting normal then running to the bathroom. We weren't the only ones there, so I had to keep it together and I was in so much pain that I couldn't drive myself home.

I finally had to leave. I had The Man drive the kiddo, and I drove his car. By the time I got home, I was crying so hard that I almost couldn't see.


I continued to contract and cramp for all of Saturday. I spent most of the day alone in our bedroom resting and trying to nap.


Sunday, I lost a little more tissue, and continued to bleed heavily.


Monday, I felt pretty good when I woke up. I even scheduled a playdate for The Toddler and a lunch date for me, but by the time we got back to the kiddos, I was feeling odd, and my bleeding had been steadily increasing for several hours.I eventually had an extremely intense contraction cycle, and passed a very large amount of tissue. When that happened, my heart rate shot up, and I was nauseated. I almost passed out. I called mama to come and take me to the emergency room. We dropped The Toddler off with friends, and called The Man to meet us there. 


I was convinced that I was hemorrhaging. I could feel blood rushing out of my body, and I almost passed out several times on the way there. When I was admitted to the ER and the nurse was helping me change, there was almost no visible blood. They did a long ultrasound and a pelvic exam. I'm fine. No problems. No remaining tissue. My cervix was closed. By the time we left (maybe 2 1/2 hours later), I felt fine. Let me rephrase that - I felt physically fine, but I was completely bewildered by how awful I felt earlier, I was angry at myself for having scared my family and friends, and I was furious that we had to spend $150 to be told that I was fine. By the time we got home, I felt crappy again.


I was very uncomfortable for the rest of the night. Looking back, I'm fairly certain that the cramping I felt then was my uterus contracting down to it's normal size, but at the time I was terrified that there was something really, really wrong and I was afraid to say anything because I already felt like The Boy Who Cried Wolf.


Tuesday, more bouts of tailbone-tugging contractions. More heavy bleeding and lots more clots. Wednesday, same as Tuesday. I started to get worried again. If all of the tissue is gone, why is the bleeding still so intense, and what is trying to clot? I finally caved in and called my midwife again. She empathized with my frustrations, but told me that I was still within the range of 'normal'. Everybody's body reacts differently. Since I felt like the bleeding had slightly decreased, she was encouraged. She said that since my cervix had closed, the rounds of contractions were actually opening it again to release the built up blood. She told me to wait another day or two, and if the bleeding increased or didn't continue to decrease by Friday afternoon, then call her again. A few hours later, I lost ANOTHER piece of tissue. How could they have missed it? It was not tiny! Almost immediately, the bleeding slowed to practically nothing.


By Thursday morning, my baby belly was gone. The boating finally stopped - my intestines are working again!


It's Friday, and I finally feel more like me. I'm in regular clothes. I'm not in pain, and the bleeding is almost over. I PLAYED with my baby girl instead of encouraging her to play by herself. I got stuff done for our family.


Now I just have to make the space to deal with the emotion of what just happened. The physical part I understand. I hate it, but I get it. Now is the time when I have to bury the baby I never got to meet and say good bye. I'm not ready.

:-(

I thought that knowing this was coming and having to wait for it was the worst part. I was wrong. Going through it is the worst part.

...........

The baby stopped growing about a month ago. My body is just now catching up. All that is left is waiting and bleeding and pain.

I don't want to do this. I don't want to be strong. I want to howl and rage and I want SOMEBODY to fix this.

When will it be my turn for joy again?

Do Over

Today sucked. It sucked when I was still awake with a toddler at midnight, and it only went downhill from there.

I had a fight with my mom just after I woke up. I haven't had a fight with my mom since high school.

My laptop took a dirt nap. There's nothing important on it. Just every photo that I've taken of my daughter since the instant of her birth.

Our stupid pool has been cloudy for over a week. Not even the guy we PAY to keep our pool nice has been able to fix it. When I went out to backwash the filter, I slammed my finger in the lever and covered myself - head to fucking toe - in dirty, cloudy water.

The child who refused to sleep last night also refused a nap. She was pretty nice about it, but she did not nap. Therefore, I did not get a break or a rest. Even people who work for minimum wage get breaks.

Because of the exhaustion and general freaked-out-ed-ness, I missed a reunion committee meeting tonight. I have since received several snarky messages - even though I've already apologized. I absolutely cannot stand to be talked down to and deliberately misunderstood. I felt like laying my Greek tragedy of a day out for this woman even though I don't owe her anything... but she would only intentionally misconstrue what I say and stay mad anyway. So I haven't responded, and I intend to sever communication. Good thing I'd already decided not to attend!

The icing on this shit cake? I got a damn stretch mark. I made it through my entire last pregnancy with no new stretch marks. The existing ones from my teen years are finally beginning to mellow, and I was feeling a bit smug about the whole thing. Until tonight. I had a tugging pain just below my belly button. I grabbed the massage bar and attempted to ease it. All I could feel at first is the absolute void of muscle tissue down the center of my belly - no support there! As the pain eased, I could feel a definite line in the tissue. A break. A tear. A new stretch mark. In the center of my belly.

And now I can't sleep. Again.

I demand a do over.

*** Note: My life is not shitty. I know that for a fact. This is my place to vent, and as such, it can get a little negative over here. This will blow over, Folks. Just wait. Tomorrow will be a new day full of it's own share of unpaid bills, dirty dishes and temper tantrums. It's all in how you go about it. Perhaps tomorrow I'll have the strength to fight for good instead of surrendering to the forces of negativity. We'll see...

What's Different?

So, I finally got around to voicing my biggest concern to The Man : 'What has changed? You used to spend hours on your addiction. That time has to be filled. How are you filling it without the addiction?'

You see, I've been anxious a lot of the time. And by a lot, I mean A LOT. It has felt like he's telling me that  just flipped a switch and he's all better. I know that this cannot be the truth, so my fear has been that he's just lying. It's not outside the pale for me to think that. I mean, he was actively keeping a huge secret from me for almost three years. What makes me so sure that he's changed?

What he was able to tell me last night is that he's conducting his days differently. In part, he works through the twelve steps if he has a quiet minute or needs a break. Or he does part of a crossword puzzle. Mostly, he keeps a careful eye on who he wants to be, and the consequences of choosing his addiction over what he knows to be right.

Apparently, in addiction, there are three circles. The inner circle is feeding your addiction - acting out. The middle circle is the things/actions/situations that lead you to follow your addictive patterns - it leads directly to the inner circle. The outer circle is regular, healthy behavior. The key is to be keenly aware of your middle circle, and to observe your triggers before they set you off.

Having this knowledge helps. I like the idea of him having steps to follow and things that keep him from allowing himself to act out... but it doesn't keep me from acting like an asshole in my own head. I've gotta figure out what will help keep me in my own outer circle.

Just 'Off'

Today is an 'off' day. There is nothing specifically wrong. Nothing in particular happened in the preceding days. I even got plenty of sleep - sort of... but sort of enough sleep is pretty much the best that the mother of a toddler can hope for most of the time. So, in theory, I am ahead of the game. But that's not how I feel.

I feel isolated. I really only have 2 (maybe 3) friends who have kids around the age of my Darling. Only one of them is also a stay at home mom. Everybody else has wildly different schedules. I'm lonely.

I had just decided that I was ready to shove myself back into the work force (in some capacity) when I found out that I was pregnant. I had gotten myself all jazzed about being part of a community of grownups again AND having some additional income to help cover the deficits in our household budget. *sigh* I'm now questioning the timing of this baby, but, um, the baby is going to show up in February even if we're homeless... which we won't be... I'm just feeling dramatic...

SO, my stupid high school reunion. I thought that I had extricated myself from the planning, but I was still up in the air about weather or not to go. WELL, the classmate who picked up the reigns now wants help. Specifically, my help. She feels like I offered, even though I was deliberately vague... *sigh* So I told her I would help (for real this time). Then she went ahead and 'finalized' all of the details - including price - and posted it all before we could all meet. The price that she set per person is WAY above what I would pay for any meal in that venue, and it doesn't even include drinks or an actual meal - just appetizers. Now I REALLY don't want to be involved, and I sure as heck don't plan on paying that price to hang out with those folks.

The Toddler is two. Which is awesome in so many ways. It is also exhausting and frustrating in so many other ways. I have no idea what will set her off into a tantrum. I usually have no idea how to stop said tantrum once it has begun. Today at the park, she lost her shit because I was drinking water while I pushed her on the swing. Seriously? I'm not allowed to hydrate? But then she turned around and put herself down for a nap without protest. Ah. maze. ing. and probably never to be repeated. *sigh*

Because of travel for work, The Man has only attended one meeting a week for the last two weeks. This makes me very nervous. It's none of my business, and there's nothing that I can do about it. He'll either go, or he won't. He'll either learn how to get better, or he won't. But it's freaking me out.

I'm gonna take a nap.

What Now?

It hasn't even been a month. It has only been 28 strangely long days since I opened a giant can of worms disguised as a secret e-mail account. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Since then, I've become even more pregnant, even more sweaty, and even crazier. Despite The Man's fervent protestations to the contrary, I'm convinced there are more secrets left. That there is more waiting around the bend. I feel like there's a giant cartoon hammer waiting to fall... on my head.

Because of the way he went about everything - conducting encounters during work hours and on business trips - I have no idea how to begin to rebuild some sort of trust. I was so sure before that his hours completely precluded that kind of activity. That they were signs of his commitment to me and to our family. Finding out the lengths that he went to in order to deceive me means that I am left with no certainties other than a deep and abiding surety that he could be doing whatever (whoever) he wants in any. damn. moment. that he is not with me.

Part of me says 'go ahead. Do it. Fuck up again 'cause I'm outta here if you do.' The rest of me says 'Please let him be sincere. Please give him the strength to be the man that he claims to want to be.'

Since my initial fury subsided, I have been left with the deep feeling that I want this relationship to work. I understand that this sounds delusional and maybe even sad. I understand that there is still a HUGE chance that we won't make it, but I want to try.

I still need an outlet. I am driving myself crazy trying to figure out if there is anything left and/or new to find. The Man has offered to attend couples therapy or to let me go by myself if I want to be on my own.

The other night, I freaked out again, and he said that if I needed for him to leave, he understood, and would figure it out. He said that when I said it the first time, he didn't get it, but he does now... but honestly ya'll, having him gone would SUCK for me. Even without the pregnancy, I am so drained mentally and physically by raising a two-year-old, that I don't know how I'd do it alone. A lot of days, I am completely unconvinced that I am cut out to be a stay-at-home mom. I know that I could do it alone. Of course I could. I just feel like every damn thing is so hard right now. The thought of intentionally adding another hard thing infuriates me. So he stays, and we do the best that we can. Most days, that's actually pretty good.

So where does all of this leave me? I have NO idea. Hopefully by continuing to write, talk and stay in motion, I can progress in some fashion. While I absolutely hate not knowing what's next, I am beginning to accept that whatever is next, it will not happen tomorrow. There will be time involved. For both of us. He needs time to figure out what it means to live as a recovering addict. I need time to figure out if trust can be rebuilt here.

Made It.

This was the Baby's birthday weekend. That means that my in-laws were here. That means that my mother-in-law used her not inconsiderable talents as a nag aaaaaaaaall over me for a few days in a row.

You know, the whole thing would be easier if I could just write my in-laws out of my life. The thing is, even though they are in turn rude, racist and controlling, they truly love us, and want to be part of our lives. For the most part, I have managed to find a comfortable balance for myself over the years. Visiting them on occasion and having them in our home in a slow, comfortable cycle. I was able to calm down after each encounter, and purge the negativity as I went. In fact, I would actually look forward to our visits... only to then be blindsided by the inevitable back-handed 'compliment' or scathing condemnation disguised as an innocent passing remark. But it was still water off a duck until our daughter was born.

While we've never directly told his parents about any of our marital strife, his mother seems to have picked up on hints of it, and has incorrectly diagnosed it as 'ALL HER FAULT' (The Her here being ME). After I returned from England, and just shortly after Darling Daughter was born, she went so far as to send me a letter of Helpful Hints to Keep a Husband Happy (full of wonderful bon mots such as 'compliment him when he wears a suit') and even attempted to force a Dr. Laura Slessinger book on me. Since then, she has absolutely hounded me about every. little. thing.

She insists on clipping and sending me coupons then berates me for wasting her time.

One of the first things out of her mouth every time we talk 'privately' is an inquiry into how much I've worked since we last spoke even though she knows that I am only on-call and only have child care for a few hours each week.

Every shared meal becomes an attempt to show me how much I overpay for food. She thinks that my family should eat processed foods because they are cheaper.

My daughter has 'too many' toys. That one pisses me off even more than the others. We RARELY purchase toys for her, and when we do they are small and inexpensive. She happens to be blessed with a community of family and friends (The In-Laws included!) who shower her with gifts (new and used).

She insists on 'helping' with either cooking or cleaning then abandons her task halfway insisting that I just won't allow her to help.

Add in the afore-mentioned back-handed 'compliment' or scathing condemnation disguised as an innocent passing remark, and I am either emotionally wiped out or shaking with rage... or both... by the time we part ways.

This visit added in my first trimester exhaustion and the strain of our current situation. All I can say is that I am truly grateful to The Man and the bond that we share.

We've been doing pretty well lately what with communicating and all. We were able to work as a team all weekend and have a wonderful time with our daughter. It was a good thing.

Stuck

The tiny obsessive hamster in my brain is stuck on his wheel. As it turns, I hear 'If it's all so unconnected to 'us', then why did it kick into high gear when we decided to try for another baby' over and over and over.

Until the first of this year, The Man's addiction was fairly low-key. Then, like a switch was flipped, it jumps into a frenzy of activity, and moves from occasional personal meetings to desperate need.

He refuses to admit a connection. We're going nowhere.

I need a place to talk. I need an outlet. Spewing my nonsense onto the web doesn't fix anything. Right now, I feel muted. I feel like there's not a space for my feelings. I know it's not the truth, but I feel like The Man having an addiction and seeking help means that I have to keep quiet and not vomit my anger and confusion onto him when he walks in the door.

Today, I went up to his office to talk to him. I just couldn't spend the whole day making myself crazy without saying anything. I don't feel any better. He has no answers. He can't tell me how to rebuild my trust in him. He doesn't have some magical spell that would reveal any remaining secrets to me and assure me that there's not more of this shit waiting around the bend.

Today is a bad day. Today I'm barely treading water. Today I futilely beat my fists against imaginary walls and demand answers from the air. Today I'm going back to bed.

Not Worth The Time

I didn't share this before, because I'm embarrassed that I did it. Apparently, I have no problem crowing my most private humiliations from the blog-tops, but this was done on a whim, and then I was mortified that I did it at all. I'm sharing it now because I need to hold myself accountable for my actions - even (and especially) the stupid ones.

The other night, after I talked to The Man about how his latest girlfriend was really into him, but she 'meant nothing' to him, I felt really bad. For her... 'cause I'm a hormonal wreck softie. So, as a follow-up to some of the nastiness that I had been sending her way, I fired this off:

From: (me)

To: (her)

Sent: Thu, June 9, 2011 10:27:43 PM

Subject: I'm sorry

I truly am. It seems that you may have really cared for him, and this has been a cruel and awful end to it. I let rage guide me, and I said hateful things.

-(me)

------------------------

Then I got this back:

Date: Fri, 10 Jun 2011 08:03:08 -0700

From: (her)

Subject: Re: I'm sorry

To: (me)

No ma'am, you have no reason to apologize.  Everything you said and did was done for good reason.  I deserved it.   If I could make it all go away, or hit rewind and erase it all, I would.  I never meant any harm to anyone.  I know how stupid that sounds but it's true.  When I read your email this morning I fell apart.  That email showed me what kind of person you really are, you are a good person.  The damage I caused you and your family is tearing me apart.  I know how much you must hate me and you have every right, but I swear right now, all I want to do is hug you and tell you how very sorry I am and cry.   I don't deserve your forgiveness but thank you.  I wanted to apologize immediately, but because of all your well deserved anger, I felt it best to take the punishment and try to cope with it, and it was very hard and hurtful and I saw myself very differently through your eyes.  I did not like myself at all.  That person I was reading about was really nothing like the person I am.  I really am a good person with a loving heart and yes, I made a horrible mistake, a mistake that will  haunt me forever.  And you are right, I do care for him greatly and considered him to be a good friend, one that I will truly miss.  But I give you my word, I will never cause you any more pain.

I have seriously considered taking my life to save yours.  And again, I am so so very sorry, I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me.  

------------------------

Huh? Oi. Now I've stepped in it. Then I was annoyed, so I sent this off:

From:(me)
To: (her)
Subject: RE: I'm sorry
Date: Fri, 10 Jun 2011 13:07:22 -0500

We are not going to hug, and talk of suicide is a bit over the top. As angry as I am, I don't blame you. In an adulterous relationship, the blame lies with the spouse, not the partner they chose. You are not married to me, you don't owe me anything.

I hope that you want more for yourself in the future than a sex addict who is cheating on his wife to be with you. Everyone deserves more than that.

---------------------

Really? I had to end with the bitchy, backhanded 'compliment'? Why did I start this in the first place? So far, she's had more sense than to reply to me. I'm a viper in a rose costume.

Stalled Out

I have no idea where I stand, you guys. I know that we have a LOT of work to do, but I still don't know where to start. It doesn't help that I've been absolutely panic stricken about money and so exhausted that I can barely function. It has taken all of my remaining energy to maintain a calm, normal front for our daughter. I've lost the will to force any issue.

The man is completely apologetic (but not fawningly or obnoxiously so) and presenting a 'I want to be here 110%' front. He continues to go to meetings, and has given up smoking as well. We really and truly cannot afford for him to leave. Forcing him to do so puts a huge burden on me - and that feels unfair.

Then there's the pregnancy. My first midwife visit was completely uneventful. Everything on track... even asked for the STD panel to be included in my blood work. Embarrassing, but not fatal. I'm a bit scared that additional stress in my first trimester will compromise the pregnancy... believe me, I'm stressed out enough already.

Then there's The Child. Her birthday is coming up. The Man's parents and one of his sisters (not the one I sent this blog to) are coming into town to celebrate with us. I'm not in the mood to discuss our current tribulations with them. Once again, it will be easier for me, not to address this while they're around...

Of course, acting like everything is fine when it's not is exactly what I had hoped to avoid. It allows both of us to continue to not correct anything or make any changes. Not productive.

Bleh.

Interlude

Last night as we walked toward our separate bedrooms, I stopped and teared up. 'What am I supposed to do with you?' I asked.

The Man thought about it for a second.

'You could hug me and then stab me a little.'
'Then you would exsanguinate before we got anywhere in this!'
'Well, maybe you could use something small. Maybe not so big?'
'Then how would you LEARN?'

It's hard. We've been together for a really, really long time. We share over 17 years of stories, silliness, heartache, loss, triumph, growth and even just stillness. It's impossible to ignore that and look at him like a stranger.

...

We talked for a long time tonight. I don't feel any better. I don't think that The Man does either.

I'm having a hard time lumping 'it' all together as The Addiction. I acutely feel the sting of each betrayal.

The Man seems to be stuck in a loop of 'it all runs together for me', 'those girls meant nothing', 'I know what I said to them, but I didn't mean any of it'. What he cannot seem to accept is that those statements actually make it all worse. That he can be so calculatingly manipulative. That he refuses to see the effect this has on the women he has used. That the words of love he utters to me have been used in situations that 'mean nothing'. How in the world can I ever believe him again?

He also managed to slide in an unintended hurt. In trying to tell me how little the latest one meant to him, he said 'It's like you're trying to compare her to Slut Child or Boobs McChesty (obviously, that's me using their aliases - he doesn't call them that...)' - thus saying that those two DID mean something to him, when he's maintained up until now that they didn't. *sigh* More lies.

Where's the bottom? When does it get better?

Just Keep Swimming

The World's Most Amazing Baby is loving 'Finding Nemo'. I am enduring it, and taking a page out of Dory's book. Just keep swimming... Just keep swimming.

Some days, any kind of movement is the best you can hope for. Forward movement is good. Positive movement is best.

Today, I'm moving. I can't tell yet if it's treading water, swimming or winning (thank you, Charlie Sheen, for this fantastic addition to the pop culture lexicon), but I'm moving.

Today is officially 5 weeks pregnant. I seem to have developed evening sickness instead of morning sickness. Drat. Other than that... and the bloating... and the mood swings... I feel pretty great :-P

Today I'm ready to talk to The Man some more about the reasons why I am so angry. Like why all of the things that I have begged him for for years (like time, pursuit, effort, diversity...) are part of his addiction, but not part of his relationship with me.

Lost

I feel really lost today. Yesterday I was so determined and could see everything so clearly. Today I can't remember why he has to leave the house and can't just live in the guest room.

I'm not just tired, I'm worn out. I still have no idea what my next step is or when I'll start to feel better. I am furious that I have to do this alone.

Wiped Out

Today I said some things that were harder for me than just about any other moment in my life. Considering what we've been through in the past few years, that's saying a lot.

I had to ask my husband to move out. I then had to explain to him that it wasn't up to me to figure out how that would work, where he would stay or where the money would come from. That this was happening because of the choices that he made, therefore he was responsible for working through it. Not me.

I didn't say it out of anger or hate or spite. I believe that I said it from a place of love. I really do love him. I truly hope that our marriage can survive this. That makes it even more important that true acceptance of the situation takes place so that true healing has a chance to begin. As long as he's here, I'll make excuses for him and rationalize his actions because it would truly be easier to keep him here. Without him, I'm a single parent. Without him, I lose my best friend. Without him, I sleep alone in our bed.

I've been making my decisions based on what would be easiest for all of us - less disruptive. What I need to do is make decisions that can lead to positive change. Our daughter will feel the disruption. It will be hard. It will be better for her if she has the chance to grow up as the daughter of a recovering sex addict than the daughter of an active sex addict. She also needs a mother who can show her that how to set healthy limits, not one who acts like a doormat or takes the easy way out.

I'm not cutting him out of my life. If he wants to, he will always be a part of our daughter's life. If he really wants to, there's a chance that we can save our marriage.

The next part of the process is going to be hard. Recovery is not something that happens because you decide to go to meetings. Recovery begins when you hit rock bottom and decide to make huge changes in the way that you live your entire life. Recovery from addiction takes place every single day for the rest of your life. There is a chance that The Man will not succeed. I don't have any way of knowing how this will go down, and it is completely out of my control. The only thing that I can do is take care of myself and our babies. His recovery is 100% up to him.

I will NOT spend my life worried that my husband is cheating on me. I WILL have a life filled with love and light. I WILL be a woman that my daughter can look up to.

'Meh' Day... I've had worse.

Today was the day that The Man was scheduled to leave town for a 3 week trial. He was supposed to come home for the weekends, but that's still 5 full days of solo parenting. If you are not already a solo parent, this is a horrifying thought.

As angry and crazy as I've been, it still broke my heart to think about our daughter crying for her Daddy every night. I knew that this was what was in store for me because she cries her heart out any night that he's not home to put her to bed. The thought of 4-5 nights in a row made me tired and sad.

I was relieved that we were going to have some distance, but I already had a case of the crazies working. My mind raced like a coked-up lab rat, and almost none of it was pleasant. I spent all day trying not to cry. Our daughter knew that something was up all day, and had been alternately cranky and babbling non-stop about her daddy...

And then he walked in the door just after 7 p.m. I am really pissed about how relieved I was to see him. The baby was over the moon. She actually stuttered and stared at him for several minutes as though she wasn't sure he was real.

Their big case settled as they were finishing up day 1 at the courthouse. They jumped back in their rental car and raced home so that they could all surprise their families.

I don't even know how to begin to process my feelings. I'm still furious. I still feel betrayed and sad. I'm still acting crazy. I was happy to see him. What the hell is wrong with me?

My friends are trying, but the whole topic is so awful that they can't talk about it for more than a minute or two. My mom is too mad to talk AND she tries really hard not to give advice. This is great most of the time, but when you want so badly for it to just be fixed, you kind-of long for a buttinski mom. There are no codependents of sex addicts meetings in this town. What the hell? So he can go to a meeting any damn day of the week, but I have to flounder along without the support of anyone who knows what I'm going through?! Fantastic.

New Day, New Pendulum Swing

I kind of remember this from the very first go-round with the Slut Child. I swing wildly and without warning between raging-ly furious, calm, crying and asleep.

I am in the process of finding a local meeting of the codependents of sexual addicts group.

I have a session with a counselor on Tuesday.

The Man has already been to two meetings. While that's a great thing for him, it's hard for me. He's so thrilled to be taking action, and is already repeating portions of the steps as fact. I, on the other hand, have had no action to take and am completely bogged down in my rage. He's already cheerfully talking about 'later when everything's o.k.' It makes me want to slap him... again... shit. I still cannot believe that happened. I hit another person. I am so ashamed to have lost control so completely.

I slept for 2 solid hours this afternoon. Because of the whole pregnancy thing, I was out so solidly that the back of my head hurts and my jaw aches from grinding my teeth. The last dream that I had before the toddler woke me up was that a friend and I were repairing a piece of roof on a shopping center, and she fell. I was unable to catch her, and had to watch her fall, call 911 and then call her husband. Of course, I couldn't make the phone work, and she was dying in front of me while I tried to reassure her. Wow. Stress much?

If I had no children (actual or embryonic) to consider, I might crawl into a bottle or my bed (or both) for a while. It's a huge blessing to have them both. They are keeping me functional and forcing me to be much more positive than I would normally be. The Lord knows what he's doing. Not only am I aware that I can handle this, I know that I have to.

Oddly enough, last time it got this bad... wait, this is the worst. shit... I was pregnant. Excellent timing, Sir. Way to keep me out of the bars.

This pregnancy feels different than the losses. With the first one, I was excited, but when the spotting stated, I was secretly convinced that it was over. I kept up hope, but lost the pregnancy anyway. The second one was also exciting, but I felt like it wasn't mine from the beginning. I was sad when I lost the pregnancy, but sure that it was the right thing. This time, I just feel calm. I'm having all sorts of almost constant aches and cramps, but I'm not worried. It feels normal... more normal than anything else does right now.

Who IS That?

I can't even recognize myself. All I can see is a fat, tired, sad, old lady. I didn't sleep last night. In the early hours of this morning, I texted this blog address to his sister like some sort of psycho.

-------------

When I found out about the unprotected sex, I hit him. I slapped my husband. I didn't want to stop. I wanted to hit him until he hurt as much as I did. Who does that? I'm not some out of control ghetto bitch who asks her girlfriends to hold her weave while she beats the shit out of her rival.

-------------

Why does he have to keep giving me away? I waited for him every day. I trusted him every day. I begged him to be with me. To be present in our marriage. Instead, I'm a line that he uses to try to get laid. 'My wife doesn't understand me', 'we never have sex'. I am an object of scorn, pity and ridicule all over the skankiest parts of the internet.

dammit.

You know, I felt like this had to get worse. I mean, as bad as it's been, it didn't feel awful enough to be rock bottom. I was calm, and nobody had been kicked out of the house.

I was right. NOW I may or may not have found rock bottom. I am actually going to post it here. I may even wrap this whole fucking blog up with a ribbon and deliver it to my in-laws as a 50th wedding anniversary gift 'cause this shit is goooooold, baby.

In addition to doing his girlfriend in a parking garage (I know, classy, right?), the two of them were unprotected. You heard me. Supposedly she is 'fixed' or 'defective' or something, so they figured 'why not?'

WHY NOT?! Yeah, why the fuck not. Try thinking about the two other people in you marriages YOU ASSHOLES. Maybe think about the possibility that one of you has picked up a guest on your travels around the adulterous whore circuit. Maybe the one of you who is ACTIVELY TRYING TO CONCEIVE A CHILD with their spouse could think about someone other than themselves for one damn moment. But I guess that would destroy the magic of an affair... if you thought about someone else...

So, it gets better. Yep. At my first OB appointment for my current pregnancy, I will need to ask for a full STD screening. No shame there. Happily married, monogamous wife joyfully conceived her second child with her husband of 15 years. No reason for tears.

AND IT GETS BETTER. They met in person for the first time ON MY BIRTHDAY. No birthday lunch for the wife, but for the internet whore, sure. Oh, and he complained to her about the infrequency of our sexual encounters. Asshole. My next husband will want to be with me every damn day.

This one is not coming near me again.

Look Over Here

My post title is two-fold.

First, there are a few (very minor) layout changes to the blog. Check out my profile pic. That's me right now - partially submerged in case of emergency. If need be, I can close up my nostrils and dive for safety. You heard me. I'm a hippo. Also, I changed the header. I'm no longer poking the bear, I'm just talking about me. I am going to leave all of the previous posts intact. They were my truth at the time.

Second, I'm a tap dancer. Not in real life. In real life, I'm a terrible tap dancer - just ask my last teacher. She would yell things like 'Ba-da-da-da-DUM' and expect me to do the corresponding step immediately. She expected this because I had taken tap dancing before in my life - when I was 13 (and I wasn't that great at it then). When she knew me, I was 25, overweight and awful at tap. But I digress (Kittyn, does that make me part of the team?!). The tap dancing that I'm talking about is a diversionary tactic. If things are going poorly, I plow ahead full-steam as though everything is fine and I know exactly how to fix it if they're not. Usually when this occurs, I am also a bit wan faced and have a scarily manic look in my eye. You know. Tap dancing. 'Look over HERE! Not over there. Everything's FINE! I've got this!!!'

My hope is that this time around I will not tap dance. While I don't plan on wandering around looking lost, pathetic or hopeless (mainly because I'm not), I also don't plan on becoming manic and crazy trying to prove that everything is all right. Because it's not. But there is no need for crisis mode either. No one is in any danger.

I would like to promise myself to try and take this as it comes. No borrowing of trouble. No idealizing of possible outcomes. Just live in my now and breathe. I can do this. Whatever 'it' ends up being.

Oh, By the by. I have to poke one more time. Whoever that woman was that sent the info in February, she's alllllll worked up now. She thought that I would thank her for the info, and her feelings are hurt that I got all crazy angry and didn't believe her. Have I mentioned that I have e-mailed her at least once a month begging her to spar with me? Well I have. Turns out she was forwarding those to The Man. Now she's asking him to 'make me' leave her alone. Wow. You send one (or 5) taunting e-mails to a stranger and they get all bent out of shape... so I sent her one more. Just for closure. Oh, and by the way, even in the midst of this, The Man and I don't 'make' each other do anything. We're adults. We present situations and the other one decides what path to take. I chose this:

Geez


Calm down, woman. 


First, I'm sorry that I assumed that you were someone else. Second, I'm sorry that I on-line taunted you, but in all fairness, you never gave me reason to a) believe that you weren't the person that I suspected or b) believe you - since you never followed up with the requested proof. Frankly, when you backed off, it made me even more sure that you were lying.


ALSO, I'm not 'bothering' you. I'm simply responding to the e-mails that you sent to my husband, but that's all over.


I'm done. I guess you are too.
Take care.


Oh, I almost forgot to ask you - how bad is it that I sent The Man's main 'girlfriend' like... 4 really ugly taunting, poking e-mails yesterday and today? Really bad? Well, too late. I already did it. She won't play either. What is it about these gals? They're perfectly happy to talk smack about me if they think that I don't know about it, but they won't stand up to  me - even on-line?! I guess it's one thing to fuck somebody else's husband in secret, but when faced with the actuality of her, it becomes less fun?

On that note... good night.

First Step?

When you find out that you are the spouse of an addict, what do you do? Do you 'stand' next to them, sort-of near them, or in another room? Where do you begin to draw the lines of 'what you have done is unacceptable'? How do you continue to parent together? How do you define what's left of your marriage?

How in the hell do you go from being in the best time of your marriage to the absolute worst in an instant? What are you supposed to do?

Why do I have to lose my husband and my best friend in one fell swoop? Why can't any of it have been real?

Is there a chance that he'll ever be healthy enough to fix this?

Am I strong enough to walk away?

And So It Transpires:

That I am a rube.

That I e-bitch slapped some stranger. Not to say that she's not her own brand of psycho (wouldn't know), but she's not the psycho I thought she was. Oh, and she was telling the truth.

That all of my internet sanctimony about love and fidelity was delusion.

That The Man has a serious addictive compulsion... and probably sociopath tendencies. He knows that he has a problem, and the first word out of his mouth when confronted was 'help'. While it would be good for him if he means it, the truth is it's a fantastic cover and a truly masterful dodge/parry tactic.

That I am wounded. Deeply, horribly wounded.

blech.

Found out more than I wanted to. Sick to my stomach. SOOOOOOOOOO, the girl who wrote to me in February was not who I thought. She was indeed a new girl.

The Man is a cheating, lying, whoring asshole.

Getting it OUT

I know that I've previously mentioned how I found out about The Man's affair with The One Who Threw Him Back (or Boobs McChesty if I'm feeling cranky and/or fat), but I didn't really get into it. Since it is the most recent wound, I avoided poking at it until I was pretty sure that it had healed.

Last fall, we took a trip with extended family. World's Most Amazing Baby got to spend a long weekend with two great-grandparents, all four of her grandparents, her dog, one of her cats and both of her parents. It was really a great experience to have all of us together for more than just a holiday meal.

Rather, it was a great experience until our last night there. We had been whooping it up after dinner with wine, music and games. Everyone else had gone to bed, but The Man and his mom stayed up way too late acting highly competitive and silly. By then, I was puttering around the perimeter tidying and making noises about how tired I was. I wandered over to The Man's laptop to check out the playlist that he had thrown together for the night. I pulled down the 'history' tab and was confronted by a log-in name that was unfamiliar to me, but seemed to reference an inside joke between The Man and myself. I paused briefly to check that The Man and his mom were paying no attention to me, then started clicking.

As it turns out, the screen name was for a playlist account that The Man and TOWTHB had shared. It was full of songs that I love and had introduced The Man to. It also had messages and photos... and a LONG letter from The Man to Her (dated before our daughter's birth) begging her to take him back, and detailing their relationship.

I was in shock. I felt duped. I felt betrayed. I felt like he had YET AGAIN given pieces of me away. Nicknames, songs... he took things from my life and gave them to someone else... I guess I could be flattered that I'm so awesome that everything about me is worth copying (HA!), but it really just felt like it depleted me.

I was also very deeply hurt to discover the true nature of their relationship. I had chosen to believe The Man when he told me that they were 'just friends'. I knew that their 'friendship' was allowing him to cross a line in that it was an outlet for him to receive flattery and to flirt, but I was pregnant and hormonal and wounded. I didn't want to believe that he could be selfish enough to start another affair after what we had been through. To find out that he had deliberately chosen to start another relationship while I was pregnant... all I could hear in my head was 'He didn't chose you. Look at that letter - he loved her. He would have stayed with her. She left him so he was stuck with you.' It played on a loop in my head.

I couldn't stop shaking. I wanted more information, but had no way of getting any. The Man was passed out. The interwebs were failing me. It was the middle of the damn night, and I had no cell phone reception, so I couldn't even call a friend.

I stayed awake all night. I drifted in and out of fitful sleep for an hour or so right before dawn. I woke The Man up and told him that I knew about 'her'. I asked him to tell me what happened. I imagined that I could see his mind racing as he tried to decipher how much I knew, how I had found out, exactly what he had to own up to and what he could conceal. In his defense, he was also still more than half asleep and really hung over. I battered him with accusations then left the house.

He avoided being alone with me for most of the morning. I finally cornered him. To his credit, he had been giving the whole thing serious thought. First, he was completely taken off guard by my anger. To him, the relationship had been over for so long that it was almost as though it hadn't happened, but he understood that I felt newly betrayed. Secondly, he said that when he wrote that letter, he was in one of the worst mental states of his life. He had immersed himself so deeply in the 'selfish jerk' persona, that he was almost unrecognizable. All he knew was that her attention was something that he wanted, and it was being denied to him. She wouldn't accept his calls, return his texts or read his e-mails. The letter was his last appeal to her, and she never replied. Fine. Then why was it still there? Oh, he didn't even think about it being a part of that account... he just really liked the playlist that he had put together (for her!!!), so he kept the account open and listened to it from time to time. Jerk. Third, he addressed my fear that he was 'stuck with me by default'. He swore that it just wasn't true - here with me was where he wanted to be. He admitted that it had taken a while for him to get back from Selfish Jerk Land, but he was ridiculously grateful every day that I had been willing to take him back when he had finally returned.

I asked him to close the account. Not because I believed that he still used it to communicate with her, but because if it was open, then there was a possibility that one day she would return to it. He agreed, then hesitated - he REALLY liked those songs, and it had taken him a long time to put the list together - seriously!? I walked over and pressed 'delete'.

The part of this that wounds me the most is the continued theme of giving bits of me away. During that time period, he chose to give these women nicknames, create on-line accounts to communicate with them, created playlists for them, showered them with romantic gestures... and through it all, he used memories of things that we had created and shared together over the years to impress them and win them over. As though I wasn't there. As though he had come up with these things on his own. Meanwhile, I would have wept with gratitude if he had put even part of that huge amount of effort into our relationship.

This is one of our last big hurdles in getting past that time. I want that kind of effort. I want to feel pursued and wooed. I feel loved, but knowing that he put more effort into other relationships continues to really hurt. I'm not asking for diamonds, but I am asking for a level of thoughtfulness that doesn't come easily to him. We butted heads about this again recently. We may or may not have broken through to the next level on this one. I feel like he finally heard me. I hope that he did. I hope that I really heard what he had to say as well.

Snowball

This is shaping up to be One Of Those Weeks. The kind of week where tiny things snowball into one giant crummy week. So I'm gonna whine about it.

I don't feel good. I have felt bad for a week or two, but it was low-grade crappiness rather than anything awful. I assumed that I'm developing allergies since my symptoms are all sinus related. Over the weekend it blossomed into a cough, drainage, congestion, headache, sore throat and nausea... oh and occasional dizziness. Blech. Since I'm (finally) not nursing anymore, I can take medicine (yay!), but it all seems to just make me feel fuzzy and dehydrated instead of better.

Our new pool guy quit. Even better, he quit by not showing up or calling and now refusing to answer our calls. We were kind of depending on him, and have been a bit busy of late, so we're on the verge of having algae AGAIN after having just spent our entire savings account to clean up the last algae outbreak.

All of my clothes are worn out. Most have tiny holes, sweat stains and/or don't fit. It's too hot for this shit. Since we emptied our savings account for the pool, I'm stuck with what I have.

We're trying to plan a 50th wedding anniversary celebration for my in-laws. It's like herding cats. So frustrated!

My daughter doesn't feel great either. She has chosen to act like a jerk pretty much every time we leave the house. Yesterday she BIT me when it was time to leave the museum.

My stupid 20-year high school reunion is this fall. I was peripherally involved in the planning until people started acting like they are 18 instead of 38. Now any warm and fuzzy thoughts that I had about having some laughs with a few old acquaintances have turned into bitter musings. I think I'll skip it.

Apparently I'm more upset about my recent miscarriages than I thought. Since finding out that my friend is expecting and due when I would nave been, I've been off-kilter and out of sorts.

I miss my husband. He's been so busy that even when he's home, he's so tired that he's not really here... and he's going to be out of town for our 15th anniversary. Poop.

The garden that my mama and I have been so excited about has a few serious bug issues. We may lose half (or more) of it before it even blooms.

I'm going to go take a nap. Everything looks better after a nap, right?

:-) ... :-/

According to one of my good friends, at least a portion of hell has frozen over. She's the friend who always stated very firmly that she would never, never, never have kids. Period. End of story... She's due in November - hence the frozen hell.

I'm so excited for her! I've always thought that if she changed her mind, she'd make an amazing mother. I never faulted her for her decision to be child-less, but she's so loving and amazing that I kind of felt like she would be depriving herself of an incredible experience if she stuck to her guns on this one.

Now, since she dropped this bombshell on me by text, I haven't had the chance to discuss ANY of this with her like was this a surprise or planned? How is she feeling? When can I start buying stuff? I'm sure that this type of talk is exactly why she chose texting as her mode of notification, and why she is not answering the phone now... dang it! :-P

We would have been due at the same time.

Stand UP!

So, in case you were wondering, the emotional and physical toll of two miscarriages in two months is (drum roll please) TEN FUCKING POUNDS. That's right. Ten pounds. I can feel it on my thighs and tummy and I can SEE it under my chin and on my arms (and of course allllllllll around my butt). I don't feel like myself right now. I'm tired and dragged out and I've felt sick for weeks. I need a nap and a vitamin and some damn exercise.

When I feel like this, it's easy to drag myself down to a place where I run through betrayals like a litany. I use them as reasons to wallow and as tools to beat myself up with. It's hard to block those thoughts. It's much easier to let them run rampant and trample my joy.

I'm fighting this harder than I ever have before. I'm putting myself and my family up on a plateau higher than the muck of despair. I'm arming myself with love and light to beat back the nastiness. I refuse to carry this weight as an physical manifestation of sorrow and self doubt. It's time to start walking.

*sigh*

The alarm on my cell phone went off at 11:00 today. 'Midwife Appt.' was the message that flashed. Tomorrow I would have been 10 weeks pregnant. Tomorrow I would have heard my baby's heartbeat for the first time.

I braced myself for a wave of sadness. It didn't come. Instead, I felt exhausted. So drained that I felt like I needed to nap immediately. I packed up my daughter and her things, and took leave of our friends. We made it home, had lunch and are puttering quietly until nap time. Now I feel sad. Not devastated, but sad. That baby wasn't mine to keep. The next one will be.

The Man asked me just a few days ago when we were going to start trying again. He wasn't sure when it would be 'o.k.' or even if I was ready. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I do feel ready. I feel calm and happy when I think about our next child. I don't feel anxious or stressed about making it happen on a time table. I feel assured that it will happen when it's supposed to.

So. Very. Tired.

I can't relax. I don't know how. Even as a massage therapist, I never tell my clients to 'relaaaax' - because it offends me when other practitioners say it to me. That's right - even when I receive a massage I don't relax. I think I'm relaxed, but then the therapist asks me to unclench my hand or release my arm.

Today is a prime example. My Darling Daughter woke up at 7. This was sort of a treat, since she usually wakes up crying between 5 and 6. That's when she comes in with me (The Man's in the shower or gone by then) and has her only nursing session of the day. Since she was so late today, she decided not to go back to sleep once she was done nursing. Fine. 'Should we go to the zoo today?' 'YES! Ish, Mama. Hippos.'

That was one of the last positive exchanges that we had all morning.

By 10:45, she was in full-on meltdown mode, and I was exhausted. We finally made it to the zoo around 11, and she calmed down considerably. She fell asleep around 12:30 on the way home... which sucks. She has never in her entire life transferred asleep from the car to the house. When she was smaller, I'd stay in the car until she woke up. She ended up going down for her nap at 2.

I ordered myself to bed around 3. I was (AM!) so tired that my eyes ache, but here's what my brain was doing:

- The poor dog is so itchy. I wish her bath appointment was today and not tomorrow.
- What time did the baby go down? Two? And it's 3:08 now. Maybe I'll get 52 minutes of sleep. Maybe it'll just be 22 minutes. Maybe I should stay awake.
- 'If I say HOT, what's the opposite word? The opposite word is COLD. Hot, hot, HOT, hot. The opposite of hot is cold.' (that one is set to music)
- Dinner tonight... dinner tonight... brown rice... and grilled chicken - oops, need a new propane tank! Can I lift that thing? How does it detach from the grill?... what vegetables are in season? I could make that salad like Mama made...
- What time is it now? How many minutes until she wakes up? Should I just stay awake?

This went on like a tornado in my head until I passed out. I have no idea what time it was since I refused to open my eyes... UNTIL THE DOORBELL RANG!!!! ItchBiteScratchChew Dog went ape shit. I (with my poor disoriented heart pounding) leapt up to get to the door before the dog woke up the baby.

The new pool guy. I'm so glad he's here, but I may kill him for waking me up. The best part? He seems to be gone. I think that he took one look at our pool and left. I wouldn't blame him, but if it's true, I'll cry... Who am I kidding? I'm probably going to cry anyway...

Why can't I relax?

Gimme A Minute

Last night I was in bed reading. The Man was still puttering about the house. I had just gotten really comfortable when our old guy cat came in and started yelling at me. Since I thought he was outside, this was a surprise.

I got up and went to investigate. I couldn't find The Man anywhere inside. This meant that he was outside. That means that he was smoking. I started to get tense and angry - he's supposed to be quitting! Then I saw him. He was kicked back in one of our patio chairs with his feet on another chair. He was smoking, yes, but he was also so relaxed... just staring at the almost-full moon and enjoying himself.

I felt all of my anger and tension drain away. I walked outside and kissed him on the head. I told him that I loved him and I went back to reading.

We can disagree about the smoking later.

Needs Work

Things have been a little bit weird lately. We stopped trying to prevent pregnancy in January. Since we're not 'baby crazy', that's our version of trying to conceive. Apparently we're really good at it. I've already been up knocked up twice. I've also miscarried twice.

The first time, I found out at 4 weeks and started spotting at 4 weeks and 2 days. I started obviously miscarrying at 5 weeks and 5 days.

The second time was an accident. I had just finished my first miscarriage, and we had an evening that involved a too much wine and too little birth control. I'd just had a doctor's visit, and she didn't say that we needed to wait to try again but I kind of thought that we should. Although we both know where babies come from, neither of us was really thinking that I'd get pregnant again so soon. I mean, my body had just been through a bit of a crisis. Would it even be ready again? Well, yes and no. I got a positive home pregnancy test at 4 weeks, and another 2 and 5 days later. We were so excited! Then I miscarried dramatically at 5 weeks.

Being in possession of wildly fluctuating hormone levels for so long took a toll on me and on The Man. It's one thing to be pregnant and to understand and adjust to the changes that are occurring. It's another thing entirely to lose a pregnancy, almost re-regulate your emotional self then start the roller coaster again... and get off it again.

I began to feel unsure of myself and I projected it onto The Man. I even accused him (obliquely) of having another affair when I couldn't get ahold of him for an hour or so one day. The ridiculous part was that he was defensive and pissy when he came home that day. I decided that this was even more evidence to support my insanity but really he was mad about something that I had muttered at him whist still asleep that morning... Communication is KEY, people. Without it, we're just shadow boxing with our fears.

My task for myself is to return to what I consider to be normal. It's time to feel like ME - whatever that means. Time to feel good in my body. Time to enjoy this amazing life that I have. Time to define what it means to me to be a stay-at-home mother of a two-year-old... or is it time to go back to work? Ugh. Maybe I should just get through this week then see where I am...i

If we still want to try for another baby in a few months, then we will. If we decide that the one that we have is so awesome that she counts as two, then so be it.

Book for Thought

I just finished 'Fly Away Home' by Jennifer Weiner. It's not her best book... yet this was the second time I've read it. I have very limited time at the library these days (toddlers are terrible at waiting while you peruse), and the two closest branches are a bit limited in their selections. I was in desperate need of things to read, and... I couldn't remember if I'd read this one or not - not a good sign.

The story revolves around a mother and her two grown daughters. In very different ways, all three of them have sublimated what they want and who they are in order to please those around them. In the case of the mother, that's how she spent her entire adult life, and her husband then cheated on her with someone that reminded him of who she was when they met. I am NOT blaming the (fictional) wife for the (fictional) affair. I am noting that the character found herself lost, and it wasn't until she spent time thinking only of herself and what she wanted/needed from life that she was able to find happiness. Happiness that she hadn't experienced in many many years.

The daughters 1) became someone who was outwardly successful, but was lonely and miserable and 2) became a drugged out scared-y cat. The 'successful' one had to slow down and stop caring what everybody thought. The druggy one had to rehab herself and learn that she didn't have to care that she would never 'measure up' to her sister, since nobody was measuring.

Food for thought, no? The message here is STAY TRUE TO YOURSELF. It's important. In some cases, it might be all you have.

This culture that has ben created wherein folks (usually women) create a version of themselves that they think is more palatable or popular terrifies me. How long do they honestly expect to keep that up? What do they think will happen when they drop the charade and let their true colors show? Why would they want to be with someone (friend or lover) who wouldn't like the person that they really are?

One More Tale To Tell

O.k., I have unloaded a LOT of stuff here in the short time since I opened this blog. I kind of feel like I've said almost all that I can for right now. Unless something changes, I plan on taking a break from spending so much time on this for a while. I've worked through a lot on my own just by having it so close to the front of my brain. It's time to let what's left simmer on the back burner of my subconscious for a while and devote my full attention to the present.

Before my hiatus (or whatever it ends up being), I have another story to tell.

I was almost at the end of the first trimester of my pregnancy. I was home one day, and the phone rang. It was a local number, but not one that I recognized. The man on the other end announced that he was the SlutChild's current boyfriend. He claimed that he was calling because he was trying to break up with her and (SURPRISE), she had gone nutsos. He was (also) married, and the SlutChild was basically stalking his wife. He was calling me to beg for advice on how to 'handle her'. I was sick. How did he even know who I was? Well, he said that she loved to brag about how awful she had been to me - apparently using my name all the while - so he had simply looked me up in the phone book.

SERIOUSLY?! And he wanted me to give him advice? Um, no. At this point, we were less than a year out from the end of the affair, and less than 6 months out from the last time she had invaded our lives. There was NO way that I was going to give her any reason to waltz back in. This dumbass was the same kind of dumbass that The Man had been. That meant that he was completely snookered by her manipulations. This also meant that if I said anything against her, there was a 90% chance that he would blurt out exactly what I said and that it was me who had said it to him. No way.

I told him 'Nobody handles her. She is her own woman. When she decides that she's done with you, she will leave.' Since I was paraphrasing things that she had previously screamed at me, I figured it was safe to say them... and say them I did... over and over. He was devastated that I wouldn't say more. 'Please, just tell me how you got rid of her!' I simply repeated my new mantra. He grabbed at another straw - 'We have a lawyer and we're building a legal case against her. If we need you to testify in court, will you do it?' 'Absolutely not. If your attorney needs something, he can call my husband. I will not speak directly to you again.'

It was surreal. I hung up and stayed on the floor in child's pose until the world stopped spinning and my breathing slowed down to normal. I just held my baby in my arms, heart and mind's eye until things felt real again.

follow up

In case you are wondering, vodka is NOT a solution. It is at best a stop-gap measure, and a lousy one at that.

The Man had a really rough day yesterday as well, so he was overjoyed at the opportunity to break our self imposed 'no drinking during the week' ban. He was also happy to stop on his way home to purchase something harder than the wine that we've limited ourselves to lately.

Suffice it to say that we (I?) hit that stupid bottle too hard. We're not twenty any more, and have been out of the bar scene for quite a while so we're out of practice :-P

I am lethargic and headache-y today. I can't even form a coherent thought never mind compose a decent blog post or think about my feelings.

Send it Out

So, I've managed to freak myself out a bit today. I posted a comment in response to a blog that I read. Because of the nature of the blog post, and the content of my response, instead of linking to my regular (Mama, Crafting, Cooking, Light-Hearted Stories) blog, I linked to this one.

Now I'm a bit wigged out. I started this blog in order to put an end to the machinations of a manipulative irritant. I continued it as a forum to help work through my recurring and residual issues related to the affairs. Now I've put it out there for people to find. In fact, I practically put a neon sign on it and said 'Come on by! I've got something to say!'

Here's the part where my own self-esteem issues check in with a huge 'Who do you think you are? Why would anyone want to read this?' I feel like I've spent too much time here playing Poke The Bear, and not enough time talking about the real stuff. Granted, I've only been writing here for a month and a half. When I look at it that way, it seems like maybe I've gotten through quite a bit of the real stuff... *sigh*

So why did I link it if I wasn't ready for people to read it? I wanted to give a little background for the response that I had posted. I wanted for people to know that I wasn't just blithely spouting off about something that I didn't know anything about... Great. now I hear one of my oldest established behavioral patterns very clearly in this. It's the one that screams 'I Know What I'm Talking About. I'm Part of This. Here's Why You Should Listen to Me...' Yep. That one. The one that tries to hard and begs everyone to like it. Sooooo healthy. Soooo lovable.

Now there's the 'LOVE ME, I'M GOOD ENOUGH' monster calling up from my bruised psyche for attention. Add in the infuriating doctor's visit that I just returned home from, and you have the recipe for a headache. Guess who's not going to be cooking dinner tonight! That's right. The Wife Who Stayed. Guess who has two thumbs and will be stopping off for vodka and fancy olives on the way home! That's right, THIS GIRL :-P

Stir it Up

We spent the weekend rearranging the house. The Man decided to set up a home office so that his weekends can be spent at home rather than in transit or at the office and I was ready to change it up a bit in the living room(s).

We are much better about it than we used to be, but we're mail hoarders. For years, every piece of mail that came into the house stayed in the house. We would let the bills and junk mail form these avalanche-prone piles that we would scoop up and cram into a bag or box if we were 'cleaning'. Then the bags and boxes would be consolidated into a larger bag or box and stuffed into a corner or under a bed or into a closet. We have boxes in our garage that have moved with us for over ten years because we're afraid to throw them out, yet we are too lazy to go through them.

Like I said, we're much better than we used to be, so there really aren't many new boxes, but the old ones are everywhere. In rearranging, we unearthed unacceptable amounts of junk. The Man borrowed a shredder and went to town getting rid of it. I was thrilled. Then I stopped to wonder if her was so shredder-happy because he wanted to be sure that every last bit of any possible paper trail from his affairs was gone. You know - receipts, phone bills, e-mails... Then I decided that if that's what he was doing, then GOOD. If there was anything to 'find', I've had two years to go through that crap and do so. If he wants rid our home of old ghosts and start fresh, then YAY!

End In Sight

When the World's Most Amazing Baby (WMAB for short) arrived, The Man moved back in. He wanted to be here, I needed the help, and neither one of wanted to miss even one minute of her awesomeness. It was weird at first. We had no idea how to not be together, but our new truce felt odd. Were we a family or not? We just did our best to make it through each day. Mostly we stared at our baby and bought her stuff.

One night we took a walk. I was feeling brave, so I said 'tell me 3 good things about (SlutChild).' He asked why. I told him that she seemed to have some sort of hold on him, and since he seemed incapable of ridding himself of her, and she was part of his life, I needed to know something good about her. He stopped talking for a while. Then he said 'I can't think of anything to say.' 'Really, you can't give me one reason not to intensely dislike this woman?' 'No... and she's gone anyway.' I was skeptical. 'No, really. She's gone. After the last thing, I told her that I couldn't be her friend anymore and she got mad at me for jerking her around and now she's gone.'

When he said that, the tiny flicker of hope for our marriage that I had sheltered in my heart ignited into a flame. Maybe we could do this. Maybe I wasn't going to lose my life partner and the father of my child. Maybe the selfish jerk that I had seen all through my pregnancy was gone.

When WMAB was about 2 months old, The Man and I were standing together in the kitchen while I made dinner. The Man was talking about a friend of his and the foolishness that was going on in said friend's marriage. They had been talking divorce, but it looked like they were going to work it out. I just looked at him and said 'was our marriage worse than theirs?'

He said 'NO! Not by any means!'

'Well, then why do we have to get a divorce? Their marriage SUCKS and they're not getting a divorce.'

He came back with 'you don't want a divorce?'

'No, YOU wanted a divorce, and I didn't want to be married to someone who didn't love me.'

'I NEVER said that I didn't love you. I just said that I wasn't sure that I wanted to be married anymore.'

So we stood there and argued the semantics of the fight where I had heard him to say that he didn't love me anymore, but he claimed that he had really just said that he was unsure about the marriage part. I insisted that this was most definitely NOT the time to try and use lawyer-speak on me. He claimed that being a lawyer made it impossible for him to not use lawyer-speak. See, this is why you have to c-o-m-m-u-n-i-c-a-t-e. UGH! Whatever. By the end of the evening, we had decided to give our marriage another try.

It didn't happen overnight, and it was hard. It still is, but we got here. To this place where I trust him. To this time when we love each other and our family. There is more to tell, but not tonight. For tonight, the story ends here.