It's a Process

It has been more than a year since my last post. More than a year since I felt the need to write about all of this. More than a year since our last "incident". It feels really strange to be able to say that. When you are in the middle of something so horrible, it feels like your entire existence will be wrapped up in fighting against awfulness. To have come out the other end feels good... but it is still hard to trust that feeling.

Lately, I have started to have nightmares that The Man is straying again. Old anxieties and insecurities are truly crappy bedfellows. For now, I am willing to believe that these feelings are nothing more than the machinations of sleep deprivation and body image anxiety. Becoming a mother (again) is a wonderful thing, but it makes serious modifications to your body. Once the glow of "I just made a person IN MY BODY" wears off, you are left with the reality of a soft tummy and a closet full of clothing that you cannot fit into or nurse in. This time is hard, but it passes. I am doing my best to acknowledge the truth of where I am and to not allow my mind to create fear out of shadows.

So, in case you were wondering, I am still here. Still fighting for my family. Still healing. It's a process.

?

Wow. It has been a year since I started this blog... and a long time since I updated it. I'm still here. I just got to a point where I was tired of moaning about my situation. I also got depressed to the point where it took all of my energy to keep up with my daily routine. The depression has retreated into it's hole for a while, (and I have resolved to see a doctor for help battling it) so maybe I'm ready to write again...

I started to recap my life since I stopped writing here, but I quickly lost interest. I guess what you need to know for the purposes of this blog is that The Man and I are giving it another shot. Somewhere around Halloween I started to feel less angry and he started acting like he wanted to be here. We both know that there's still a lot of work to be done, but we both want to try.

What I really (don't) want to write about is my now. I've been feeling like a crazy person again. I continuously want to check e-mail accounts and commandeer mobile phone records. Sometimes, I even want to drive by his office just to see if he's really there... but I don't, because that would be crazy. Seriously - I feel like a lunatic.

*sigh* I know that part of it is that I feel out of control in general. My weight has ballooned. I still don't have a job or any real idea of how to find one. I've got a weird pain up under my ribs on the right side that is really starting to worry me. You know - stuff. Stuff that will make you act crazy if you let it.

I'm working hard on not letting it. I'm working hard on acting right because it's the right thing to do. I'm working hard on presenting the image of the person I want to be, and making the inside match the outside.

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.

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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.

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This whole process is exhausting.