Sunday, September 30, 2012


Part of what I don't like about the weekends is that it gives me plenty of time to think.  I think about how awful our financial situation is right now.  I think about how the shit hit the fan in my marriage.  I think about my future, alone.  I worry for my kids.  And I try to make an effort to get ready for the upcoming week and faking pretending to those who come in contact with me that my life is just fine.

That is a tall order these days.  I never really understood the term crushing depression, until all this happened to me.  Now I get it.  Now I know what its like to feel paralyzed inside.  To feel like the figurative wounds in my big heart are open and bleeding.

This weekend my husband and I attended a party together.  It was a birthday/after hours bash that I wasn't going to go to a couple weeks ago.  I told my husband that he could go by himself.  Then I thought better of it.  I'm not going to let his actions control mine.  So I went and took my youngest.  I offered a ride to my husband but he wanted to go in his own vehicle.  Which was fine.  I like to be on time or early for everything, he does not.

I hung out with the other mom's and they have no idea what is going on.  Very few people do.  He doesn't tell and neither do I.  So when I get asked when he is coming, I just say he'll be along shortly, even though I don't know for sure.  This time when I'm offered a drink.  I say yes.

It's been a good six years since I've had any sort of alcoholic drink.  I was told recently I seemed like I was very against drinking.  That surprised me.  I'm not that way at all.  My sobriety was only so my husband would stay sober.  He has chosen to no longer do that, so why should I?  Why did I give it up for him?  Why did I sacrifice so much of myself, for him?  I still wonder about that and I probably always will.  There is something to that whole love is blind thing.


I had a couple glasses of wine.  I do like wine.  It was nice to sit and drink with everyone.  Drinking is very much a socially acceptable thing and for years I sort of watched from the outside.  But now I'm back in and its not so bad.  I had two cups when my husband arrived.

Cute as ever.  I don't think I will ever get tired of looking at that man.  He is just so handsome.  He has these striking blue eyes.  He is always one of the tallest in the room, at 6' 2".  I watched him take a bud lite out of the cooler and crack it open.  I know he was uncomfortable that I was there.  He stood in areas that blocked his view of me and was strategically always on the opposite side of the area from where I was.  All. Night. Long.  I noticed he didn't even wear his glasses.  I almost want to say he did that on purpose so he couldn't see me.

I wonder what he thinks about my declaration last week.  I told him to look me in the eye (and he did) and I said flat out that I don't care if he drinks.  Its his life.

I said that same thing, when one of the Mom's that knows he doesn't drink asked me about it.  More importantly she asked me how I felt about it.  These people are so very nice and so much fun to be with and hang around, there isn't anything fake about any of them.  I had thought we would actually get to have couple friends for a change, something we have never had.  Little did I know we would have them, while we were separated.

So I told the Mom that it was his choice.  That I cannot control his actions and that since he wants to drink, there is no reason why I shouldn't drink too.

I made myself a rum and coke.  The hostess made it a point to show me how she had bought two 2-liters of it for me.  Then she showed me where the rum was. I made myself a drink.

Rum and coke is was my husbands favorite drink.  I never really understood why.  I've heard men call it a sissy drink.  Its been a looong time since I made a drink for myself.  I had no idea how much rum to put in it.  First one I did came out just right.  The second one was TOO STRONG.  I drank it anyway but diluted it with more ice and coke.

All us Mom's did some dancing.  Did alot of dancing.  Did alot of laughing.  I don't think it could have been more fun.  Really.  All things considered.

As I watched my husband talked to the various husbands of the Mom's I was hanging out with, I have to say I loved seeing him in a social setting.  Seeing him interact with people and enjoy himself.  Beer in hand. (I saw him drink at least eight)  Was good.  I know he feels even more alone with me gone (even though that was his decision) and now he is trying to build a life for himself.  It is good to see.

At the end of the night, my youngest was ready to go.  I said my good-byes and he stayed.  I have no idea what time he came home.

Is this my new life?  Is this how its going to be?  If so, I hate it.  I hate that there is so much out of my control.  Its all so confusing.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

More of the Same

I'm not gonna lie.  Its rough here in the house.  I don't understand the why's? of all this. I have loved this man from the tender age of 21 (what? it is a TENDER age, ha) and now I'm ... 43.  That's a long time to spend with someone.  Over half my life with this man.  As his friend, his lover, his partner.  I love him truly, deeply.  I still wear my wedding rings, the vows we took mean the world to me. So why then is he living at the farthest point in this house away from me??  I ask myself this over and over.

DISCLAIMER:  I snore.  And it has to be incredibly annoying to him that it happens all night long.  Often keeping him awake.  He is a night owl and has a hard time sleeping.  I'm pretty sure he finds this as a bonus.

I keep telling him that he is angry with me and he keeps insisting that he isn't.  I asked him to please move out if he has no intentions of being with me.  He hasn't left.  Instead he got a toilet for free.  I'm going to guess here that he plans to install it in the basement in the proximity of his room.  (I think I shall dub thee man cave!)

I brought him some folded laundry (which coincidentally he brought up mine from the basement) and he had a tape measure in his hands.

NEWS FLASH:  I got a glimpse inside his room.  The LOCKED room.  Surely you remember.  He has had a white board for a couple of years now and I love to see the different things he puts on them.  Sometimes a to-do list, sometimes pictures my youngest has drawn and right before he moved downstairs, he was tracking his weight loss.  Anywhoodle, I saw he had drawn those dice that would hang over your rear-view mirror (year's ago) and above it was written No Dice.  There was other stuff on it but he didn't want me there so the door closed in like 10 seconds. (Note To Self: Find the damn key)

In general he just stays away.  He comes upstairs when we are sleeping and uses the kitchen.  He will text me questions or, this week, he expressed frustration when the bank eats his atm card.  I have no idea when he showers but I definitely see him at least once a day.  He jogs.  Never in the 21 years I have known this man, has he ever jogged.  He also gave up sugar completely.  He only has it occasionally.

I just bought a dozen Dunkin Donuts so I'm pretty sure the occasion has arrived.  But otherwise he is vigilant about it.  No coffee.  Only tea.  He did a complete colon cleanse.  He is eating fruits, fiber, lean meats, eggs.  He bought 1% milk.  Ick.  Course he is in killer shape to boot.  Which he was anyway but even more so now.  And it doesn't matter that its getting cold, he stills lays out in the sun, listening to his ipod on the warm days, so he is still tan.  He shaved his head.  Which, of course, I love that look on him.  He hardly looks me in the eye these days ...

.... he's is emotionally unavailable to me and it sucks.  I'm relying on a double dose of antidepressant (doctor's orders) and xanax, daily if needed.

I need.

It seems all I can do is think about it.  And get sad.  Then my self-esteem deflates a little.  And I sleep.  I wake up feeling better but go to work and face even more uncertainty and changes, things that make me want to just walk away, throw in the towel.  But work will distracts me and the drugs are definitely helping..  But I have moments when it really feels like my heart is hurting.  Like now.

I think I'm going to go to sleep.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

The Weirdest Dream

I overslept this morning.  Which figures because.  1.  It's my youngest's 6th birthday today.  So my subconscious must have automatically thought SLEEP IN.  You see, I spend my kids birthday with them.  I brought them into this world, let's celebrate together sort of thing.  I will spoil them in some way.  One year I took my oldest shopping for a new bedroom for her birthday.  (huge success) Or taking my son to Game Stop and letting him pick out a few games and going bowling.  They get to skip school.  We have Birthday Dinner.  Cake, Presents.  Today's plan?  Bring home an adorable 4-month old bunny.  Who we have named Buddy (one FB friend put up "Elvis" when I asked for names, losers were Mutton and Dinner).  We talked about naming him Hansom.  You can see his picture on my Sidebar.  Its true love I tell you.  The whole house is smitten.  Myself included. He will be a show bunny as my daughter joins the 4-H HAre RaIsErs. 

But I digress ....

and 2. I was having this really intense dream last night.  The kind where you are in a dead dead sleep, your body totally paralyzed as you watch a scene play out.  You spend the entire dream trying to convince someone that they need to listen.  What they are doing is wrong.  They need to come back home with you and everything will be okay.  Then you loose sight of the person.  Search for them.  Anxious.  Find him again.  Continue to try and convince him and then realize it's your husband, your heart twists again and again.  Looking as gorgeous as ever, ten years younger with longer hair.  And more determined to just go off, leave. Done. Good-bye.

Then I woke up.  And realized it was 7:15.  I take a closer look at my clock and the alarm is completely turned off (something I never do, unless I'm asleep when I do it).  Crap.  My son needed to be at the High School by 7 AM.  Crap.  Thankfully his routine is this.

I wake him up.  Tell him how we've overslept.
He lays there for 2-3 minutes.  (that's about all I give him, then I come back in telling him it's his most "favorite" time of the day and ask, again, that he get up)
He gets up, puts on socks and maybe changes his shirt.  Grabs his books. Turns out his light.
I put out his ADD med and milk.  He takes it.
Hits the bathroom.
And we go.

God bless that boy.  By 7:25 we were out the door.  I walked him in at 7:35 and before we can get through the second door, we were met with a teacher sitting at a school size desk, stack of tardy slips in the front of him and several student lists to look through.  In my head I thought, "Hey There, Mr. Madeup are you the Tardy Guy? (I didn't say this because I know him, he is the teacher that is rumored to put the more buxom girls in the front of his class so that he can look down their shirts.).  He didn't care that I was there with my hair a mess, no make up.  I sent the boy in.

Still thinking of this dream.  It's 9 pm now.  I've thought about it on and off all day.  A day which was fantastic and deserves a post of it's own (coming soon).  The anguish I felt in that dream is the same that I've been feeling when I'm awake.  It sucks.

Like my heart is broken.  And it hurts.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012


I don't know where I stand with you,

And I don't know what I mean to you,

All I know is every time I think of you,

All I wanna do is be with you.

Monday, September 3, 2012

Another Week ...

Back to work tomorrow.  I'm sort of relieved.  Its weird here, right now, in the house.  My oldest has gone off to college (and she is doing just fine) and that alone is a big adjustment ...

Then there is everything else.  Me in my own room.  He is in his.  Both of us at complete opposite ends of the house.

Its bizarre.  And sucky.  Its bizucky here.  With no end in sight.

I didn't want this.  I never wanted this.  I can't fix it.  I can't change it.  I can't control what he does.  I can only control what I do.  How I act.  How I process what is going on.  I reached out in several ways, I offered options.

But it appears to me that he is just moving on.

I could take off my wedding rings, he said he didn't care if I did.  He took his off on Day One. I've been told by a few different people that by doing this, he is done.  Done trying.  Done caring.  Moving on.  I'm still wearing mine.  Even after all this torture, I continue to hold out hope.  Like an idiot.

How do you do that after twenty years?  How do you just walk away?

I know I'm never going to know that answer and it's going to be yet another week of this .... limbo

Sunday, September 2, 2012

The Keys

The last time I saw them, I was helping my tenant.  (Let's call her H to protect the innocent)  She lives in our first floor apartment with her beautiful twin girls.  Her family was in town (she had just lost her husband, that's an entire post in itself) and they decided shortly after the funeral to take a trip to New York City.  I offered to babysit because, how freaking awful!  Plus the girls are adorable and my five year old loved it!

Anyway, I had this set of keys.  The keychain in white with black lettering.  It goes WAY back to my early career days.  A company trinket give away with the logo but cool none-the-less.  There are several keys on it.  One of them I desperately want .... there is a key to our main door, a key to H's apartment, a 50's type skeleton key that goes to our basement and a key to my husbands room.

That's the key I desperately want.  I'm pretty sure he knows it.  I know he wants it too.  A few months ago I noticed that various areas were "rifled" through.  He asked me about them and I had no idea where they went.  I searched those same areas and couldn't find them either.  I looked again the next day, I looked some more a week later, it was driving me crazy.  I checked all the areas that my youngest frequents.  Purses, backpacks ... keys are fun you know, along with used up gift cards, loose change and beaded necklaces.  those were the things I found.  No keys.

Fast forward to yesterday.  My husband came upstairs and knocked on my door (I put a lock on it and only have the keys, just like he is doing  in the basement), urgently.  I opened it and he explained how H was in a panic, one of her twin girls had managed to close the door and lock her and her sister out.  I should probably mention that the girls just turned TWO.  (My heart just breaks for H, as she grieves for her husband and tries to move on with her life) 

But my husband's behavior was interesting.  Barely eye contact.  Like its so painful to even just see me.  Sucks.  (insert deep sigh here, as this has become my life right now)  Then he pulled out the scale and weighed himself (I did watch, he weighs 195) as he asked if I looked for the keys, found the keys or have the keys.  Nope.  I. Have. Not. Found. The. Damn. Keys.

As it turns out the naughty twin opened the door, when H went back to get more groceries out of her van.

Now don't get me wrong here, he has A KEY.  A single key to his room.  His locked room, which was no big deal before because a) it was his room but I had access b)there was a single spare key above the door frame c)we had the missing keys.

Now that we are barely on speaking terms that key is WELL HIDDEN.  Go ahead ask me?  How hidden?  So hidden that I have probably collectively spent a good hour searching all the various things that are stacked up outside and around the area of the door TO NO AVAIL.

Yet whenever he comes and goes, he is super quick.  Could he be taking the key with him when he goes out?  He could be.  But I don't think so.  At last check the key was tucked into a little area that was in plain sight but spider-webby.  Excellent spot.  Not there anymore.

I must confess here that I actually called a locksmith.  And no, I don't want to pay $85.00 for him to get me in that door.  Nor do I want to teach myself how to pick locks and buy the proper tools to pick said lock.  What can I tell you, It was a rough night and it involved some pretty sad text messages and a lot of tears.

But we were talking about keys right? RIGHT.

I had a revelation (or a delusion) that I put the keys in a safe place.  I see myself thinking about it and tucking them up on the kitchen shelf either behind or in something.   My youngest had seen me use them and pointed out that she had seen them on the key hook upstairs.  This girl of mine is smart and I could see her brain making the connection.  So I know I did something with them. Curse you old feeble mind!

Today I cleaned my walk in storage area.  I thought maybe organizing beach items and preparing yard sale stuff might trigger and A-HA moment in my brain.  This area is my pride and joy storage area.  But it is also a dumping ground (out of sight, out of mind) when things get busy.  Still no keys.

I don't know why I want to get into that locked room so badly.  And I also don't know why he is so insistent on locking me out.

But I'm not giving up and neither is he.

My Therapist

I need to distract myself ... so work with me here.

Its Saturday Night, 11:12 PM and I'm listening to tunes on my son's iPod.  My music.  I commandeered it actually. (to be fair, he never used it and why waste a cool gift like that?) I just bought this tiny speaker to plug it into and I'm blown away by the sound.

Music is a refreshing therapy.  I sort of forgot what it is like to pick out songs and listen to music.  Ok, partly due to my lack of exercise (try ZERO exercise).  Which explains why I have the urge to jog as I sit here.  But this takes me back to my teenager years and spreading out my CD collection of 80's hair band love ballads and playing my favorites.

That's all well and good but I'm not 21 anymore (you in the back, stop laughing!) .... I'm ... 43.

On the one hand I've got major life experience under my belt but on the other?  Twenty two years ago I was at crossroads in my life, like I am now.  The choice I made back then?  Has gotten me this far and I seriously don't like how its all playing out (like a fucking nightmare I tell you! a nightmare).  Don't worry I don't have the answers.


I have a therapist.  Its sort of weird.  While I have no degree, I have studied psychology over the years and I do understand the mind.  I learn firsthand with my brother, who is bi-polar, skit-z0h frenic and pretty much a mental mess.  For anyone keeping track throw him into the mix that is now my freakshow life.  Woohoo.

Don't get me wrong, I love my brother dearly.  He has always been in my life and he has always been this way.  He sucks the life out of my parents.  They are getting on in years and I worry about his future.  Don't worry I don't have the answers for that.


I have a therapist.  Its sort of weird to go and sit and talk.  To ask this person, with a degree, to direct me in my life and help me through this ... trauma.  Save me from this sinking ship.  Stop me from going downstairs knocking on that stupid locked door and stripping naked right in front of him.

Then walking away.


I have a therapist.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

P!nk - Sober

Lost Girl

Therapy.  I'm in therapy.  I don't think I ever really thought I would find myself there but .... ergh ... here I am.

I didn't make it to the twenty year mark, my marriage is over.  I'm seriously sad about that.  But as my therapist and I have been discussing, I need to only focus on the things I can control.  Things that have to do directly with me.  Its hard, but I am doing it.

And I'm waiting.  Although not very patiently these days.  I keep being cautioned about "being too hasty".  And its true.  I've done several things I'm not proud of in the last month but they were born out of hurt and frustration.  I guess in a way therapy is good like that.  It reaffirms that what is happening isn't my fault (entirely) and the steps I took to help prevent what is happening, even right now, weren't my steps to take.  Each of us has our own path and until you reach the bottom, you won't ever come up.

I spent years preventing that spiral downward and I think in the back of the deepest recesses of my mind, I knew.  I knew I couldn't stop this.  I knew that all it would take is enough anger to bring it back into the light.

I know its cryptic.  But trust me, its bad and sad and hurt and confusion, all mixed up into an angry ball of emotion for me.  Right now.

So writing out my feelings is what I'm doing here.  Partly public.  If anyone even still reads here.  But I need an outlet and I'm too lazy to start yet another blog.  Besides, Pleading really fits my life.

My new life.  Because who knows what tomorrow will bring.  Even in my darkest days, I know I can make it my own, maybe that was part of the problem too.

Who knows.  I will never know.  The one person who could give me answers won't.  I can only control things that have to do with me.  And I know I tried.  Years, I tried.  YEARS.