I keep thinking that I'm standing on solid ground, and then BAM! I get blindsided by a horrible, punched in the gut, feeling.
My house is a hard place to be. I don't have exclusive use yet, and therefore don't feel safe, but also because it's "us". Everything here is "us". We chose everything together, everything has a story behind it. I've had a love/hate relationship with our bedroom. When this all started I thought that I would never sleep there again, then I got comfortable with it, and then the sucker-punch. I just walked in to look around for a few minutes tonight and all of the hate melted away, and I remembered my Richie. I remembered the first night that we slept in this house. Victoria was a baby in the pack-n-play and Tristan slept on his little Sesame Street air mattress. We only had our bed set up, and although we didn't have two pennies to rub together we were happy, and so proud to be homeowners. And I remembered all of those nights when I would crawl in bed next to him and settle into the spot on his chest where I fit like a puzzle piece. He would say, "I love you baby" and I would fall asleep listening to his heart beat.
It's just unreal.
Where was I when he changed? Why didn't I know? Why didn't he tell me?
I don't miss him now. Really. I see him in a completely different way now, and his appearance, and his attitude make me physically ill. But I miss my Richie. I don't wish for him to come back, because that's just wasted energy, but I miss him from time to time.
I just wish that I would have had some warning, or had some clear signs. Something more than, "Something is off, but I can't put my finger on it and I have no proof".
I just wish that my brain would process it fully, and these moments would end.
Showing posts with label that awful summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label that awful summer. Show all posts
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Panic attacks and other divorce related things.
There are nights when my chest gets tight, and I can't breathe, and I feel like my legs won't carry me upstairs to my bed.
There are days when I just want to throw in the towel, ask him what he wants from me. What else could I possibly give?
Throwing in the towel is just too tempting. I can't take being kicked while I'm down one more time. I can't take another abusive phone call, or another appointment with my lawyer. I can't take one more minute of staying strong for the kids, and I can't take another exhausting tantrum that I'm left to man alone.
I just want to run.
There are days when I just want to throw in the towel, ask him what he wants from me. What else could I possibly give?
Throwing in the towel is just too tempting. I can't take being kicked while I'm down one more time. I can't take another abusive phone call, or another appointment with my lawyer. I can't take one more minute of staying strong for the kids, and I can't take another exhausting tantrum that I'm left to man alone.
I just want to run.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Skanks, tramps and dirty hos for $500 please, Alex.
I know where my husband went...to another woman's bed. A dirty, unattractive, uneducated, pot smoking woman who doesn't have a car or a place of her own.
Oh dear. Have I said too much?
And I don't miss him. It was as if a switch was thrown. Maybe it was the same one that was thrown that took him from family man to piece of trash. He told me finally, and a thousand pounds lifted off of my shoulders.
I am clean, and the majority of my life is stretched out in front of me.
The only thing that hurts me--my kids and wanting only the best for them. They live in this bubble where life is beautiful and moms and dads stay together. That bubble is about to be popped. That kills me.
And now there is no turning back. The bubble is done for because I wouldn't take him back if he were the last man on earth.
Oh dear. Have I said too much?
And I don't miss him. It was as if a switch was thrown. Maybe it was the same one that was thrown that took him from family man to piece of trash. He told me finally, and a thousand pounds lifted off of my shoulders.
I am clean, and the majority of my life is stretched out in front of me.
The only thing that hurts me--my kids and wanting only the best for them. They live in this bubble where life is beautiful and moms and dads stay together. That bubble is about to be popped. That kills me.
And now there is no turning back. The bubble is done for because I wouldn't take him back if he were the last man on earth.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
What goes up must come down...
The kids and I left town for 9 days, and I was doing wonderful. On the ride home I fell apart...completely. Then when I got home I had court the next day. That day was horrible. I took 500 steps back emotionally.
The night before I slept in my old bed at my old house. I layed there and realized that the last time I had slept there was the night before my wedding. A small blow.
My dad took me to a coney island across the street from the court house the next day because we were early. I remember feeling like I was floating down the sidewalk, almost like I wasn't really there. I of course couldn't eat or drink anything, because...ya know...I was on my way to have (at least) the next 5 months of my life, and my children's well being, dictated by a judge who sees my situation a million times a year, and has probably become numb to the searing pain that divorce causes.
And then something happened that I didn't expect. Richie for the most part has disgusted me this last month. When I have looked at him I've seen a horrible monster. But on Monday I was sitting on a court bench waiting, and when he stepped off the elevator he stole my heart. He had gotten a hair cut and looked just like he did on our wedding day. I could have folded like a cheap suit, and I really wanted to...but I didn't, because I'm stubborn and prideful. I can't let him know that he's destroyed me. Well that's a lie, I have told him that before, but now the only way to survive is to be a bitch. Things are too far gone to let him know that I'm still capable of crumbling.
Everything moved so fast and I was completely snowed over. I agreed to things that I usually wouldn't, because quite honestly I was checked out. When I needed to be checked in the most, I was checked out. The one thing that I do remember? When the judge spoke my children's names. I did crumble for a few minutes. I whimpered.
I cried most of the way home. My poor dad.
Then I crumpled up in my old bedroom and I sobbed. The kind of cry that shakes your body, and gives you a headache.
Where did he go? Where is my husband?
This is not the person that I dated, or married. This isn't the person that held my hand as I gave birth to our sweet babies, and this definitely isn't the man that baptized me. I wish that someone could make this make sense. Where is MY Richie? This Richie that blindsided me with the worst pain of my life is not MY Richie.
I cried the rest of the day. It felt like the day that he served me divorce papers all over again. I cried for the man who's smile could fix anything, the man that I would lay next to at night. I cried for those kisses and hugs that I will never have again. But most of all I cried for all of the future hopes and memories that died overnight. No more Christmas mornings as a family, no more family dinners, no more trips...nothing. I'll never lure him home from work early with my chicken and dumplings again. I'll never bake him a birthday cake. And the absolute worst? There will never be another baby that draws it's first breath because we loved each other.
If this isn't the worst feeling in the world, then I hope I never know what is.
The night before I slept in my old bed at my old house. I layed there and realized that the last time I had slept there was the night before my wedding. A small blow.
My dad took me to a coney island across the street from the court house the next day because we were early. I remember feeling like I was floating down the sidewalk, almost like I wasn't really there. I of course couldn't eat or drink anything, because...ya know...I was on my way to have (at least) the next 5 months of my life, and my children's well being, dictated by a judge who sees my situation a million times a year, and has probably become numb to the searing pain that divorce causes.
And then something happened that I didn't expect. Richie for the most part has disgusted me this last month. When I have looked at him I've seen a horrible monster. But on Monday I was sitting on a court bench waiting, and when he stepped off the elevator he stole my heart. He had gotten a hair cut and looked just like he did on our wedding day. I could have folded like a cheap suit, and I really wanted to...but I didn't, because I'm stubborn and prideful. I can't let him know that he's destroyed me. Well that's a lie, I have told him that before, but now the only way to survive is to be a bitch. Things are too far gone to let him know that I'm still capable of crumbling.
Everything moved so fast and I was completely snowed over. I agreed to things that I usually wouldn't, because quite honestly I was checked out. When I needed to be checked in the most, I was checked out. The one thing that I do remember? When the judge spoke my children's names. I did crumble for a few minutes. I whimpered.
I cried most of the way home. My poor dad.
Then I crumpled up in my old bedroom and I sobbed. The kind of cry that shakes your body, and gives you a headache.
Where did he go? Where is my husband?
This is not the person that I dated, or married. This isn't the person that held my hand as I gave birth to our sweet babies, and this definitely isn't the man that baptized me. I wish that someone could make this make sense. Where is MY Richie? This Richie that blindsided me with the worst pain of my life is not MY Richie.
I cried the rest of the day. It felt like the day that he served me divorce papers all over again. I cried for the man who's smile could fix anything, the man that I would lay next to at night. I cried for those kisses and hugs that I will never have again. But most of all I cried for all of the future hopes and memories that died overnight. No more Christmas mornings as a family, no more family dinners, no more trips...nothing. I'll never lure him home from work early with my chicken and dumplings again. I'll never bake him a birthday cake. And the absolute worst? There will never be another baby that draws it's first breath because we loved each other.
If this isn't the worst feeling in the world, then I hope I never know what is.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Things just suck.
I wish that I could be brutally honest about my life, and all the crap that has been thrown my way, but I can't. I can't involve the world, but it would be nice to be able to talk about it.
It would be nice to have some hope and encouragement. Even if my situation has no hope, it would be nice if someone would just lie to me.
My kids are keeping me going. I'm so glad that I have them, because without them I would probably never leave my bed.
It would be nice to have some hope and encouragement. Even if my situation has no hope, it would be nice if someone would just lie to me.
My kids are keeping me going. I'm so glad that I have them, because without them I would probably never leave my bed.
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