I agree, just wondering about the timing. He suggested over dinner tonight. Alas tonight is the anniversary of bomb #1 (actually, that would be around 2 p.m.), and I was rather hoping to have some fun and create a new memory for this day.
(Actually it's not the date, but the day of the week, tomorrow is the "date").
CJ did suggest making dinner or going out. I think I'm leaning towards going out.
I woke up late (surprise!) and CJ did get off his laptop to come into the back room and give me a looooong hug.
He's off to his sis's shop to get his hair done.
I got tons of work done yesterday, even into some lectures for later in the fall. Getting kind of excited about my extra work-load (which sure beats doubting if I can handle it'! ).
Last night, CJ was finishing an assignment (on the couch with his laptop) and I was finishing up about an hour of yoga and weights when pals D and H came by for a "20-minute" visit. Right! But that's okay, we had a good time, lots of laughs.
And so here we are today....not quite sure what to do with myself. Don't really want to work. Don't want to clean (that's what I was doing last year when the bomb hit...all proud of myself, three weeks post op).
It's sunny with a nice breeze, around 80 degrees. Maybe I'll just "45" up and sit on the deck with a book. Enjoy my greenery.
Okay...while I was posting this....the phone rings and I recognize the number...it's L, my xfiance's mom!!!
She and I used to do birthday lunches for around, heck, 14 years after that R ended. This last year, I just couldn't face her with all this crap going on. But it's so weird that she called today of all days!!
Plus yesterday would have been my 25th anniversary (of dating) if I'd stayed with her son. 25th!!! CAN I be that old???
I could finish my work out from last night....we'll see what the day brings.
Remember, actions do speak louder than words. CJ is probably like me. I dont say a whole lot most of the time, and probably wouldnt have responded in words either. Its all actions.
FLoyd The grass is always GREENER over the septic tank.
My world came to an end today, Friday August 23 2002. Exactly three weeks since my latest surgery, Just starting to feel stronger, ha!
CJ planned to clean out some of the basement debris and started with the empty beer bottles. Off to return them, (5 minutes away) he didn’t come home for over two hours. I asked where he’d been, and dragged out of him that he’d gone to the Friendship Gardens to think. I asked him what he thought about,..silence. We went into the back room where I asked again, more silence. I started to panic, my pulse lept. I begged “please say something, I’m afraid you’re going to ask for a divorce!”.
This was my way of communicating how my anxious mind tends to leap to the worst possible scenario, but he didn’t deny it, he didn’t reassure me, he said “that’s it”.
My world ended right there. I entered an alternate reality in which everything I believed in, trusted, counted on was wiped away. I actually got down on my knees in front of him and begged, yes, begged him not to do this, not to abandon me, not to send me to that Shabby apartment of my dreams.
He wouldn’t even look at me. Said he loves me, but is not “in love” with me. Like we’re roommates. Double dagger to the heart as this was my very complaint when I started buying and working through the marriage books.
I asked if there was someone else….big pause. “No” he said. “Was there someone else?” I asked, and twist those knives even further, he said yes. Some woman he met once in Toronto. They kissed, he said, nothing more. But he thought he was in love with her. God, oh God! I haven’t yet asked what changed his mind.
How can this be? Loyal, faithful, caring CJ. Ready to cast me and all we have together aside in one breath. I honestly didn’t see this coming. I had expected him to have come to a decision to quit his job. I’d support him in that.
He says he’s been sad for so long, unhappy, afraid he’ll never be happy. Unhappy since boyhood. Certainly depressed right now. Like pulling teeth I made him promise not to do anything permanent until we can see Dr. A, get some meds for him, get some counsellors for us both, at least give it a try.
He didn’t want to do it, I can tell. He just wants to run away from everything. I’m in such a state of shock.
But I tried to help him, suggesting trying for a leave from work to settle his mind, start making other plans, let the treatments start to help.
Cruelties of cruelties, I begged for an assurance that there was at least a chance, just a chance, a whisper of a hope that his future might include me, and he said “I don’t want to make any guarantees I might go back on”. All I was asking for was a bone, a thread, a hope that there was some chance and he begrudged me even that.
Every night of our marriage he has told me he loves me. He’s hidden this side of himself so well it’s scary. I always trusted in his love, even when things were less than passionate, which has been a long while.
I tried to cheer him up, suggesting distractions might be a stop gap, not much we can do until Monday. Of all things, he wanted to go back to Pier 61 to do Karaoke. Through tear-filled eyes I agreed. Could he possibly think I would have fun there? But I did it for him. I showered and cried. Held it together, managed to put on makeup. He brought me a glass of Blush wine, much needed, but then started talking about his sister G, stuff from high school and the tears started falling again. My soon to be ex-sister in law?
At least while drying my hair bent over forward the tears fell straight out of my eyes and onto the floor, not compromising my make-up further.
It was a drive of barely holding on, hearing lyrics in songs, reflecting upon the ugly reality. We got there, me a zombie, CJ picking songs to sing. He did one, “Scar tissue” by the Chili Peppers, a good job. And I wondered “How can he sing while I’m swallowing salty tears?”
I held it together with fantasies of revenge: who could I kiss? Or more to get back at him…or maybe it would be more to assure myself that I am desirable, sexy, all the things that I never feel from CJ.
Then he pointed out a native woman and said that he and pal R had given her a ride home last night, did I mind? I think I might have snorted “why would I mind?” I mean please! On the scale of betrayal and emotional cruelty that hardly ranks at all.
But then she had to weave her drunken way over to us. Bemoaning the fact that she was drowning her sorrows over a lost promotion at work. Funny how some things just seem small compared to others. I was polite, commiserated, but when she started in on what a great guy CJ was, a real gentleman, I had to excuse myself to let a few more tears hit the tile on the bathroom floor.
I pulled it together and came back out. On my third white Russian (on top of the two glasses of wine all on an empty stomach) when she came back, telling me I’m beautiful and she’s glad he took me out (what had he said to her?) then, remember those knives jockeying for position in my heart? Well she lobbed a nice serrated number right into their midst by saying “I know one thing, and that’s that you don’t have to worry about this one, he’d never leave you, he’s TRUE…I’m not going to lie to you, if it hadn’t been for that wedding ring, I’d have made a move on him….”
By this time tears are rolling down my face and Wayne (getting a clue) asked if I wanted to leave. Gee, I don’t know, what do you think? I bawled all the way home. He ate something and now he’s asleep. The sleep of the unburdened, I suppose. While I’m awake. The wakefulness of devastation.
Now it makes sense why his recent care of me seemed cold, a burden. That’s exactly what it was. I had a keen sense of yearning, when telling pal B about CJ having to help me wash my back. He quite earnestly said that if it were him, he’d want to wash more than the back, he seemed turned on by the idea. That sure beats disgust.
My mind is spinning. I have to literally take this one day, hell, one hour at a time. If I start thinking about school and all that I’ll seriously freak out. I can’t not teach, I may need that money to pay rent on my shabby apartment.
Although early in the initial discussion Wayne assured me that he’d give me “everything”. But what is that? An $80,000 mortgage I’d have no way of paying? Enough money to live on for maybe 6 months? I have no benefits, I make $20 grand a year, no pension, no RRSP’s . Perhaps it would have been best if I’d died during this surgery. CJ would be free and I’d have died still believing in our marriage, in our love.
I really need to talk to someone, Mom, sis, H. But how?
How can he do this to me? Keep this all inside, pushing aside my persistent attempts to work on our issues, I even mentioned counselling over a year ago.
I can’t cope with any more of this tonight. Maybe the meds will bring temporary relief.
Well that was a year ago....sure glad I'm on this side of it now. I think tonight we need to seriously toast the fact that we're still together and making a better M for each of us.
You see, people, as hopeless as it may seem, as sure as our S's are that "it is over"....well, things can and do change!
).
But I did it for him. I showered and cried. 
