Thanks so much for coming by and checking on me. I admit I haven't been so great at keeping up with everyone, and I need to spend some time catching up today.
No worries about threadjacking - you're not doing that at all. I'm sorry to hear about the BS with OW. Too bad she didn't choke on her dinner, eh? It's sickening to consider how often they are likely lying. My head starts to spin if I really, truly start considering the vast possibilities for deception.
It's definitely a good idea to keep a file of the proof just in case, although I'm not sure if it's admissable in court because you got the emails without his permission. I'd check into that if possible just to make sure it's ok. The last thing you want to do is crucify yourself.
And oh, the HR thing. Man, if only.... In all seriousness, though, I wouldn't do anything until you get to a place where you are much less emotionally invested. You don't want to be reacting/lashing out because of your craziness of the grief rollercoaster. I know how tempting it is, and I know how difficult and unfair it seems to have all of this anger and sadness that cannot be directed at its source - but in the end, you're being the bigger person. You're doing the right thing, and I truly believe that positive energy will come back to you manyfold.
I'm working really hard to stay strong myself, although I tend to fall off that train rather often. I'm doing ok with some primitive attempts at thought-stopping as I refuse to allow this situation to rule my life.
I'm happy to at least be thinking about things a little less each day. Sometimes it seems like a huge effort to try and feel contented, but it is happening bit by bit, millimeter by millimeter.
And there are moments of beauty, and in those moments, I remember that God is always with us, in the details.
And I've been happy. I've had a few hours here and there where I've had real fun that was untainted by my H in any way.
I've felt a little less rage the past couple of days - mostly because I'm trying to prevent myself from dwelling on what might be happening, on what past revelations might have been lies, on what might be going on in his head, etc. It's hard, but I have to accept that I will likely never know the whole truth and nothing but - the truth may be out there, but I don't have access to it. Bitterness is setting in now and then - as is sadness. But it's a letting-go kind of sadness. I went to a Christmas play put on by an inner-city kids' group last night, and as I watched them sing, as I watched their parents in the audience, I realized that I will not have that with my H.
He doesn't want it anymore. He stopped believing in it, in us.
And I didn't think I wanted it until it was too late.
I thought of the vacations we'll never take, the jokes we'll never make, the lazy comfort we'll never share again. I thought of the dreams I'd had for this holiday season. I thought of the plans I'd already begun to make for our 5th wedding anniversary next year.
The trips to Europe we'll never take.
The fire we'll never sit beside in that cabin in the snow.
The lobster we'll never eat in Maine.
The marshmallows we'll never toast of my first camping trip.
The ghost stories we'll never tell, the books we'll never read aloud, the movies we'll never watch, the dinners we'll never eat, the grass we'll never plant, the walks we'll never take, the musuems we'll never visit, the children we'll never raise, the life we'll never live....
When I became tired, I thought of how much solace I would have found in a lazy evening spent on the couch at home with him.
That is, until I remembered that the "him" I wanted to find comfort with no longer exists. Maybe he never existed at all.
I was visited by many phantom desires, but like all ghosts, eventually, the began to fade, to become less and less opaque.
I have to wonder if he is haunted by me. I have to wonder if his mind turns to this situation even half as much as mine does.
I felt some anger and some bitterness. In many ways, he's robbed me of so much more than his companionship. he's stolen the last of my childhood delusions, my faith in him, my confidence in my perceptions, my ability to trust without question, my comfort and stability, my dreams for the future and the last vestiges of my childish naivette.
And I am enraged because of it. I am sickened by his presumtious self-satisfaction in his new life, at his arrogant belief that he is setting me free as well.
I am bitter because I was left without choice. I am bitter because the one person I loved and trusted above all others has wounded me by exposing me to my greatest fears.
The fear of being laughed at, of being the punchline in a joke.
The fear of being rejected, of not being respected.
The fear of being reduced in stature, of being made to feel like the little girl that was bullied instead of the woman that she became.
The fear of change and of realising that much of my life was a delusional projection of my naive desires. As my H told me himself, "life is not a fairytale, Nas."
And of course, the fear of being eclipsed by some average little girl.
It's funny that this is what happened - that he could care so little for me and so much for himself that he willingly stabbed me in both my heart and my back.
Just imagine that I had a lifelong, overwhelming fear of fire - and the fire is a metaphor for being laughed at by his buddies. The fire is being talked about behind my back by my own H and best friend. The fire is being cheated on by the one "good man" in the world. The fire is the belief that no matter how smart of talented or educated or interesting or funny I am, I cannot measure up to women that might like all of my other traits but that just happen to be skinny - that I am not attractive enough or special enough to overcome the extra weight.
And now imagine that not only do I have a fear of fire but I also have a more specific fear of gasoline fires. The gasoline is the average, Georgia-born waitress that just happens to be thinner.
And then imagine that my H - my best friend, my partner, my touchstone - is faced with having to kill me to save himself. Sure, he could drown me. He could stab me. He could strangle me.
But no, he sees a can of gasoline and says hey, I like gasoline. And so instead, he lights me on fire.
That's what I feel like in the darkest moments - like someone who has not only been hurt, but who has been hurt malisciously, needlessly, by the very tools (my fears) that I shared out of trust.
I feel cheated out of my life, my dreams. It wasn't enough to sacrifice for him by working a job I hated so he could be free to explore his career. It wasn't enough to compromise on matters of lifestyle, location, etc, just so that we could be together. It wasn't enough to stay with him despite tempting opportunities to live a more stimulating lifestyle, and it wasn't enough to reformat my own lifelong dreams again and again just to ensure that we could reach those places together.
No. It wasn't enough.
But it should have been. He is weak where I am strong. What he tries to rationalize as being free-spiritied is in truth a lack of steadfastness, an inability to roll up one's sleeves and do the hard work when the work gets hard. He's just running scared, and it makes me sad for him. It makes me pity that he lacks the wisdom to be able to avoid making huge mistakes by employing logic. I am sad that he doesn't have the fortitude or the foresight to know better than to make this mistake. I feel sorry for him because he is now and has always been the sort of person that has to f*** up in order to learn anything.
You can't tell him "don't touch the stove because it's hot." He's going to touch it anyways and then learn from the burn.
I was always the exact opposite. As a child, I rarely got into any trouble, and I only ever got one spanking - that was because I knew about consequences. I didn't have to experience punishment to understand it. Forethought, my friends. There's a reason why Prometheus got his a** handed to him for giving that little gift.
Conversely, my husband got into trouble every single day - usually multiple times. No matter how many spankings he got and how many times he was grounded, he kept repeating the same mistakes.
I look at the way he's been changing over the past few years, and I see him tempting fate. He takes more and more risks. He's cavalier about his own mortality, about consequences.
He thinks he is above the law in many ways, and he thinks he is above paying for his hubris.
Ah, the naive. I wonder how long it will take for him to begin growing up? I wonder when he'll actually start getting some clarity and figuring things out.
When I think of the person I knew and then try to match that person up with the arrogant, apathetic fool that looked at some po-dunk, nobody, little-kid waitress one day and thought "why not" - that began flirting and pretending to be some important, suave guy - I feel sick. I feel like erasing him from my my memory, from my life.
But those moments pass. I still love Jekyl even if I loathe Hyde. But eventually, one of those personalities must win out. Whether the victor will be the good scientist or the monsterous experiment-gone-awry is a tale that only time will tell.
