Been a while

Last time I posted, over a year ago now… I had taken some time off at a cabin. I was ready to climb out of the pit that my husband’s affair left me in.

But no, my employer decided to take my medically approved absence as a voluntary resignation (legal in a “employer-at-will state.)

So here I am, nearly a year later still unemployed. While technically I ” resigned,” we all know I was fired. Major hit to a struggling betrayed wife. I’m doing better, the time off has been good for my mental and emotion health.

I’ve taken up bird-watching, spent far too much time searching my ancestors and reading! Now that spring is finally here, please, more time in my garden… by far cheaper than any therapy! Funny side story.. I received some gift certificates for Mother’s Day and bought some new perennials… here in Maine, winter is long and sometimes harsh on them.. I always lose a few. I got a beautiful climbing rose-bush, with sherbet-colored blossoms and a lovely honeysuckle vine, both new additions for me! I have some lovely periwinkle and yellow  columbine to replace the ones that didn’t return, and coral bells to add to my existing variety. Also my annuals for my planters, petunias, Vinca, inpatients and begonias! I hoping to attract the hummingbirds I see buzzing around! Anyways, my point was to mention my plan was to garden today.

but here I am posting and before I was sidetracked, I was bringing you up to speed on my mental and emotional well being.. this las year, since being fired ..

I have totally enjoyed my kids; my girls, 16 and 17.. just one month shy of 18 and graduating in 3 weeks! And my son almost 20, graduated last June.  Joined the United States Marine Corps! Oohrah!🇺🇸 He’s now home, as a reservist, working full-time and is leaving in August for college. I’m incredibly proud of him.

My graduating daughter isn’t sure what her plan is yet… she’s true to being a middle child and oldest daughter… very independent, mature beyond her tender years, empathetic…much like her mother. She’ll tell me when she’s sure, and when she’s ready, what her plans will be. I only know that full-time college is off the block, and that she wants to work full-time. She likes working and has since she was 16. I’m not overly concerned. I know she will figure it out.

We took a family road trip in late October, to see my son graduate from boot camp and then to Washington D.C. A road trip in my brand new Jeep! It was a fun trip!

We got thru the 2016 holidays  the first I can say I truly enjoyed, since Dday. My son came home from Infantry school in February. January thru March weekends were mostly about dance competitions with my youngest. Now it’s nearly the end of May.

I’m planning for graduation and dance recital, that fall on the same day. A graduation party to plan still? she’s reluctant.. eighteenth birthday celebration and I’ve been busy with a group of dance-moms fundraising for our dancers going to the Macy’s day parade this year!

As for my marriage, hmm. I was optimistic, in the first 1.5 years, hopeful even. Now.. I’m not sure anymore… it’s not that it’s bad really, it’s just not very good. It’s just the remaining shell of what we had. He pretends not to notice. The situation works, well even, for us, for now. But I doubt either of us would admit we are happy.

Getting toward a sensitive subject there, so I’ll redirect.. to my gardening, for some cheap therapy!








To stay or go..

that’s the question most of us are asking ourselves in the devastation of an affair.

stumbled upon this article:

I don’t agree with all of the reasons, but they all are interesting to consider. I know I have and will continue to until I’ve decided for sure what is best for me. My goal is to feel better, not bitter. And honestly, I feel bitter. Life is so fucking unfair sometimes. And shit just piles  on. My community has had such catastrophic losses over the past few years.. Several families lost parents too young to cancer. A domestic violence act resulting in a murder suicide to a bright and promising new nurse that I had the honor of talking to many times over the years ❤️ 3 parent suicides. 2 associated thru our kids and soccer. The third just last month, one of my youngests’ BFF’s father shot himself. Her younger brother found him. Suck a shitty, sucky situation! And last week, on Memorial Day a kind and gentle young man with a beautiful future was murdered in the next town over. I’ve watched him grow up got the last 8+ Years, he’s one of my sons oldest best friends. And today, I’m waiting for the Drs office to call with an appointment for an MRI. My youngest has continued to have back pain. The next step is surgery. A spinal fusion. And I am terrified! I’m absolutely confident as a nurse and in the excellent Dr we are so fortunate to have that it is the best choice for her. He is one of the best in his field. Still, I’m her mother. She’s 14 and its spinal surgery. So many things could go wrong and I know it’s crazy and ridiculous to worry  about all the “what if’s. But if I could cope a little fucking better!!!

I have some foundational Christian beliefs. I was raised catholic. I visited a number of churches, and explored various religions. I know what I feel and believe and someday maybe I’ll venture down the path of writing a blog about my spirituality. Because it’s important, and I am privately and humbly spiritual. But not in any public manner. I mostly avoid organized religion. But I pray, and I believe. And I’m very respectful of almost all faiths.

So I can say this, I do believe that the Lord (whom ever that represents for you and I) will not give us more than we can handle. I call Mercy!

So now that I’ve shared a well written blog that went off on an unexpected tangent…

Perhaps I’m a little bit better and a little less bitter.

I’m going to go reapply my makeup and get myself ready for my sons last season game of LAX! On to playoffs Saturday.

I’m still looking for the exit out of Suckville! I’ve made a few wrong turns, maybe even broke down a few times…

Bet still better ❤️

Life Happens and then you Die.

I am an Registered Nurse. It’s more than that though. It’s part of who I am.

So because it’s Nurse’s Week I’ll start like this…

I graduated with a BSN in 1996. Before I became an RN I was a flight medic in the USAFR and worked as a CNA. I grew up knowing I wanted to be a nurse.  I waffled with being a teacher at few times but regardless, A professional caregiver.

I’m pretty sure I’ve just always know my purpose in life was and is to be a caregiver. I’m the oldest and only girl with a brother, a step-brother and a long lost-half brother. I’ve always taken care of people. I love what I do professionally. Truly. But it does wear on me. I’ve always been a more “heightened and aware.” And I’m a worrier. Toss in what I know And do because of my role of mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, colleague  and sometimes it feels like too much caring.

I’ve worked in multiple work settings and specialities. I’ve worked in level one trauma rooms and seen combat trauma. That’s only to say that I’ve seen a lot of blood and guts. I’m not too squeamish. I’m a pretty tough nut, most of the time… But every nut cracks.

For the past 4 years I have worked in Home Hospice Care. Last night I was on call. I went to bed early, feeling edgy and irritable. About 1:30 a.m. My work phone rang, from the answering service.

I got up and synced the patient’s chart and returned the call, to the oldest son of the 64 year-old patient.

I was familiar with the patient and aware that he was “actively dying,” which generally means hours a day.

The patient was having difficulty breathing and having pain. He’d given everything he could for medications. I instructed him to give 10 mg of morphine. I told him he could repeat that in 15 minutes, “if your dad is still in distress.” Our call ended so I could call the doctor to get orders his meds liberalized. It was 1:59 a.m.

Anticipating a visit I went and got dressed, then brewed a k cup in my favorite to-go mug.

I sat down to read the patient’s chart while I waited for the doctor to return my call.

After 30 minutes passed, I had the doctor paged again.

About 15 minutes later I received another call from Josh, the night shifter at the answering service, has been forever. He and I exchange friendly banter and he pokes fun at having to waking me up, from years of professional familiarity.

He also happens to be person trying to reach the doctor for me.

“Hey, I got another one for you.”

And I still haven’t heard from Dr. N., I playfully responded.

“You may not have to. This message is regarding the same patient, this time from “Bernie.”

I knew this was his wife.

The message is: “She was calling to report his death at 2:20.”

“Wow, that was really quick. Thank God.” I said, not completely, surprised, but feeling a sense of empathy and urgency reach out to this new widow.

Adrenaline starts to flow.

His chart told me that 24 days, he was diagnosed with “aggressive” metastatic pancreatic cancer.

That just six weeks ago he had a routine scheduled surgery. His pre-op work up and exams were normal, down a few pounds. At his post-op appointment 2 weeks later, they noted a significant weight loss. Concerning, he was sent for lab work, and then further non-invasive diagnostics. His prognosis was grave… 3-4 weeks. He lived just 24 days. Dr was pretty spot on with him.

Prior to this diagnosis he lived a reasonably health life and managed quite well, but was disabled. I learned while was there that he and Bernie were married for 25 years, this past August.together for 30. That their family was blended, with 5 between them; 4 sons and a daughter. “Lots of grandkids.” I wondered about the details of their courtship. Wondered if he ever cheated.

I learned that Greg Jr, their oldest son was here from North Carolina. The other 4 are local. He came home for the family meeting that was requested by his parents. They gathered together with their 5 kids told them the grave prognosis.

I learned that Greg Jr’s oldest child, almost 14, is battling leukemia after a 3 year remission, but has had it since he was 2 years old.

Josh told me that he had called the doctor on her personal number, but wasn’t able reach her.

“I guess I don’t need to reach her for orders now. But when you reach her please give the message the Patient died at 2:20.”

“Will do. Good-night”

“Thanks, I said. Night.”

I packed up and punched in Bernie’s address in my GPS. 9.3 miles. 23 minutes.

On my drive over, I calculated how much sleep I got…I’d only been asleep for a couple of hours, and it was restless. We went to bed early to watch a video that’s part of Day 1 Bootcamp. We watched 2 quick videos taking less than 10 minutes, then started a 20 min video.. I made a few comments, my husband per usual remained silent. I could hear him breathing… Then he started snoring.

I arrived and was greeted on the porch by Greg Jr. I walked in the front door to a living room, where the hospital bed was set up for the patient. Bernie was sitting in a recliner beside the bed. She was tearful and tried to get up as I came in. I noticed that someone had covered the patient, including his face, with several blankets. Unusual, I thought. I scanned the room and the faces as I made and accepted introductions.

The walls and their tears told a thousand stories. All stories you and I know or have heard, or can at least relate to.

Greg Jr followed me in and proceeded to apologize that the patient was in “this condition” but he and his brothers cleaned him up “as best they could” but just couldn’t do it anymore. He explained that nobody wanted to see him like that so they covered him with the blankets.

My wise and colorful imagination quickly drew an image, as I pulled down the covers to check his pulse. There was no need. He was clearly dead. That image is captured in my mind. Horrified. I was appalled that the family had to see their beloved man exit such a beautiful life in such a gory style. Not his choice I promise you. Nobody would want their loved one or themselves to go in such gory exit plan.

Not appalled at anyone or anything, because nothing could have changed this situation. He was home were he and his family agreed he would die. He was offered hospitalization yesterday as it became evident that death was near. That he had transitioned. They all lovingly declined, agreeing to maintain his wishes to die in his home. They loved and cared for him thru his last breath. Pam S. His hospice case manager was spot on with her assessment, care and teaching yesterday during her extended visit. Exceeding the standards of care for comfort measures only.

I was there within 2 hours of their first call. Still hadn’t heard from the doctor. But Greg Jr gave him the morphine as I instructed and before I talked with the Doctor, who I have now assumed sleeps soundly. The patient did die as comfortably as we could reasonably keep him and by his wishes to die at home. So really she wasn’t there for me, but it wouldn’t have made any difference in the outcome. Shit was happening. All the right things were done, exceedingly well even. It just sucks that they had to see him like that. I wish I could take that away for them.

I’ve thought a lot about this family since getting home this morning. I think now I would tell Greg jr to pour the whole bottle of morphine down his throat and then ask everyone to quietly leave the room and close the door. Suggest that the scene is going to be graphic and gruesome and there’s no need to bear witness. That  He really wouldn’t want you to see him that way. Even if I did Though, they probably wouldn’t have left him.

So all the choices were made correctly to meet everyone’s goals, right? So in essence, it’s a perfect case scenario. Any data collection done from my charting will indicate that. And from an objective view point I know that it went smoothly. His story from diagnosis until death, although tragic went exactly as they planned. The end.

They even had a party for him last week, to celebrate his life. They pulled together quite a shindig from the stories they shared, but what stood out for me most was that they invited 35 people, but 100 showed up. Bringing more stories and memories, and assorted foods to share. That means something, right? It speaks volumes to me. This man leaves a great legacy. His story is done and but it hasn’t ended.

Much like I feel about my marriage. Its done, but the story hasn’t ended. We are just now really starting to write the next chapter. At a preschool pace.

Doctor called me as I pulled in my driveway. Apologized and explained that she was sound asleep and proceeded to explain that I should have called her again and again. Until I reached her. I listened and thought it wouldn’t make a difference. I offered no argument after she said, “I only got one call.” That was a lie. Our call ended without any flair or flavor.

Now I wish I could tell her that it’s not my job to wake her up. But anyways, done with her.

I gathered my things and dropped them as I walked in, the kids just stating to stir for school. I went to my bathroom stripped my cloths and got into the hot shower. I wanted to wash away the smell of blood that was stuck in my nostrils and rid my mouth of the metallic taste. I did not have any exposure to blood, it was just that bad…

i wrapped a towel around me and headed to dress as my husband came out of the room. He greeted me with a kiss  and commented that it was odd I showered early. He continued on to get his coffee and start his day in the kitchen.

I dressed and got the kids out the door.. Did my charting and poked away at this post all morning, all the while writing  a draft and outline for a new Standard of Care, for a future situation like I’ve been telling about. Really that’s all I can do. Right? Make a better plan than we already have, I see the things we could have done better now, in hindsight. Or maybe now I know what more to anticipate.

It took a while for my husband to recognize that I was upset. He didn’t even ask if I’d “made a visit” but acknowledged  that I showered early. I Told him a made a death visit. I tried to share what happened. But he wasn’t really listening. It was running late. He had to get going for work. I’m  too tired right now to contemplate that one right now. Maybe I just take things to personal?

Then, after he kissed me good-bye, said we exchanged “I love you’s,” he was smiling as he was rushing out the door.

It overwhelmed me again. I just don’t think he gets it…

And wonder who’s going to take care of me?

This has been a long shitty day after a shitty evening. Which ended when he fell asleep, during a 20 minute affair recovery video.

So I’m done poking away on my iPad. My wrists hurt. I’m exhausted and have smoked too much today. I’m nursing a quick beer and going to bed.

I am the only one able to take care of me and I’m not doing a great job these days. I’m going to make a daily effort to ask for help and make my needs more clear.

Right now my most basic need is sleep.

I talked to my husband. Told him I need to go to bed. That I’ve not been asleep yet. I’m Working on close to 40 hours with little sleep.

I’ll talk with him about falling asleep last night and how it has left me feeling.  Maybe after some sleep it won’t matter as much.

I’m going to run this thru spell check and try not to edit so I can get it posted and close this day.

Gonna enjoy this cold Rolling Rock on what finally feels like spring!

Cheers, Greg Sr. I suspect you lived a bold and beautiful life!



It’s been weeks since I posted…

But I’ve been wallowing in Suckville (I stole that from someone’s blog!)

I finally decided it was time to stop wallowing… That Suckville sucks. That it was time to do something active… Because we have both been so passive in out affair recovery. I tried to be active in the beginning, but with little participation from my husband. I started mentally shredding our life together.. We avoided talking about his affair. We’ve shared short bitter lashing arguments, followed by hours, sometimes days of near silence. In the silence I drew nearer to the concept of divorce being a reality. I started wanting out.. More and more daily…

While wallowing, I’ve leaned toward read blogs from the cheaters perspective, to try and gain insight and empathy. Most of the cheater blogs I read appear to be from unremorseful cheaters staying married, but mostly sounds like it’s failing and they are miserable. The cheater is still at least in blogging, sound as though they long for their affair partner… All these blogs seem to do for me is add fuel to my mentally shredding…and uncoupling..

My favorite cheater blog is Surviving the affair…. A cheater’s perspective. I think this guy really gets it. He’s given me some clarity in my husband. I think he loves his wife and family. Things got crazy in their life and he got attention from someone else. It felt good. It was seemingly harmless. There was no malicious intent. But he slipped further and further down the slippery slop. And now a bunch of people are hurt. Shit happens. Bad things happen to good people. Good people make stupid mistakes, like having an affair…but it doesn’t make them a bad person.

I told my husband a little bit about his blog, but haven’t connected him yet. Why? Because honestly if he’d take the time to read it he’d probably break down in tears out of relief… That someone gets it and can relate on such a level… Because I’m a lot like this guys wife…. But I haven’t shown him his blog because then he’d easily find mine. He known I have one, I just haven’t shared it with him. I don’t go to any great lengths to hide it. It’s easy to find on my iPad… He knows I prefer him not to read it and I don’t believe he has. But someday, probably soon… Maybe… But for now, I’d prefer him not to… Not that I’m hiding anything, because I’m not…

So, I relate so well to this guys blog. Because I went down that slippery slope that landed him on his ass. And it could have easily been my story too.

The short story is..(because this is a blog post my drafts) Ten years ago, I had a mostly online emotional affair. This went on for a few months and then the guy drove 18 hrs to see me, uninvited and mostly unannounced. I had seriously misled him but that was my intent. He lived 18 hours away. He was safe. But he arrived and my husband had taken the kids away for the weekend.

I felt guilty that this guy drove all the way to see me. Crazy, right? But, Wow, what a rush, a compliment… This guy drove here all that way, to see me. Rationale is a crazy thing.. Sometimes it goes out the window… I can mostly describe it as feeling obligated to meet him. That seems weak. Probably because it is.. But I felt it. Sure curiosity was there, what an emotional high! Chemistry was there thru mostly chats and a few emails and calls… Anyways, forego rationale and off I went to meet him.

He called from his hotel and invited me over. I agreed to meet him in public. We met at a nearby Borders. He knew I loved to read and write… Anyways, this is supposed to be short… I met him. He was upset that I wouldn’t spend the night with him. He frightened me. I went home.  He called me several times and I ignored him. He called and left a voicemail that my husband heard. I would have deleted it and never told him. It was such a miserable mistake. He didn’t need to know.

My husband was blindsided. By all the same doubt and betrayal that I am feeling now.

So as far as relating, that’s how ACP’s blog has helped me.. And maybe my husband… I’ve  reevaluated what I did and the pain it caused him. My husband and I can relate on that level.

I’m not letting him off the hook..

We had some tough conversations this past weekend. I finally came clean with where my thoughts have been… That we should seriously talk about divorce. I told him I’m not in love with him, that I haven’t been for a while. That I love him. And I do. I’m crazy for this man who has totally broken my heart. But before I totally destroy us in my mind… Because truly that’s what I’ve been doing… We should get out as friends. I know my life with him hasn’t been a total Suckville… Just a few visits, and some longer…

I’m ready to move out of Suckville, with or without him…

So divorce is out there…

He came back with an invitation to boot camp on Affair Recovery. I showed him the site, as a good place to find something active to do toward recovery. Even if it was just reading..

Because doing nothing isn’t working for me anymore…

So I grabbed that invite and committed to the boot camp. Asked him to print us out the PDF’s and created workbooks for us… We are still on Day 1, but I’m hopeful. I’m going to hold him accountable. We figure it will take us longer than 7 days because of our crazy life, but agree to work it.

So last night by a beautiful fire I asked him… “What made me stop that night 10 years ago and go home before my affair became anything more than it was. And why did his affair?

He’s trying to figure that out…

I think he might be getting it….

One phone call

Doesn’t matter how hard I try, It just doesn’t make sense to me. In the years that my husband and Mouse had their affair, there’s just one phone call. He insists that is the only call he ever made to her. I questioned her about it in an email She replied that “texting” was his preferred method of communicating.

That at one phone call was made 6 months ago, The morning after I confronted him after discovering he has been having an affair.

It was a Tuesday morning, he left for work. She texted him, inviting him to her lake house for an adult playdate the following Saturday. He responded “that can’t happen… My wife knows about the affair. She replied with a few panicky texts trying to find out what I knew and if I knew who she was. She expresses concern that I would tell her husband and how damaging that would be. My husband then called her and they talked for 13 minutes. He made this call at work.

This became the ” NC” or “no contact” call. As far as I’m able to tell, there has been none since. She did send him a card with a letter to his workplace the following week. He promptly told me about and read in front of me when I got home. Other than “my letters to the other woman,” that her and I exchanged a month later, there’s been no further contact from her.

There are several things I struggle with…

One phone call. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to resolve in my head that they only shared ONE phone call in years, yes years. How is that possible? Sure they could both be telling me the truth. But I don’t believe it. My husband and she both have work numbers in their offices. My husband has a pager. You can pick up trac phones anywhere, cheap and easy! Then I try to resolve these in my head… All the texts from their personal phone. (I can see 15 months worth…) So maybe there was no trac phone, right? … Because why would they only talk on it… But maybe you can’t text from trac phones. Although I’m pretty sure you can. They could have talked from their work numbers. I’d have no way of knowing. My husband suggested I request the records from work if I didn’t believe him. Only problem with that is he knows I won’t.

Why won’t I? I sure wish I could answer that. I think the simplest answers I have is this: it would draw way too much attention. He could lose his job. If it was pursued by his employer, she could lose hers as well. (Not that I care about her.) They both hold mid-upper level management positions in the healthcare industry. I truly believe that they were both selfish lying idiots that never considered the ramifications and consequences for their actions. They were alone in their affair and nobody was going to find out. They both claim I was the third person to know about the affair. To date my husband still hasn’t told a soul. Not one.

What I really wish would happen is that my husband would fess up. Admit that there were calls made from his work number or wherever, But maybe he’s telling me the truth. I doubt it.

Then there’s the fact that I ended the affair. The evening before the phone call was when I confronted him. I’d discover that day that he was indeed having an affair and at that point in time only suspected  it had been going on for a year. It was an angry tearful confrontation. My husband acting indignant and self-righteous. I told him that night that it (his affair) was over. He had to end it. He agreed “of course” as if it were nothing. Ironically, he still says it was nothing and he felt nothing for her. Want to say it with me? “Bullshit!”

But I ended it. The few emails and texts I saw from that they exchanged on discovery day and the day after, before the one phone call… They were carrying per usual. Emails about a work trip, ” x’s and o’s” terms of endearment, flirty emoji’s, an invitation for an adult play date… They weren’t ending their affair! I did!!! And that sucks. I’ve wondered if they’ve talked about future plans and meeting up years from now to rekindle their romance that has spanned most of their lives. As she said in her email to me and the card she sent to my husband… “Her timing was always abysmal.”  They both claim commitment to their families so timing would suck right now. She has two girls that are considerably younger than my three… And my husband is crazy for our kids. He might be an asshole to me, but for the most part he’s a great dad. He adores each of them. I know he never considered his actions during his affair would become  known to the older 2. If he did, I’m almost positive he would never have done it, or at least ended it much, much sooner. For them.

So I think he’s capable of working on our marriage, at least to see our kids into college… In 4 years our youngest graduates. Honestly, I can too. We have a financial mess we are digging out of. Neither of us would fare well in a divorce. And we have such deep roots in our community. But then 4-5 years he could ask for a divorce. Stating unhappiness, or whatever… The affair long history so no scandal or judgement. Some people just get divorced. Maybe I’m just freaked out by the fact that I ended the affair. So many things could have happened. My husband says that he was feeling pressure and was avoiding her, trying to get her to back off. He was losing interest and felt it becoming more complicated. Maybe he was really thinking those things, but I’ll never know. I have my doubts. In fact, many.

So, here I am. Blogging about events that unfolded six months ago, in one phone call, about this time on a Tuesday. A few days following a full blood moon. Weird, right?

My husband doesn’t know that it’s been six months since he talked with her.

I don’t really know what we are doing. We ain’t reconciling. We aren’t really doing anything. We are co-habitating and living like roomies. I’m still carrying the work load of wife/mom at home. At least trying to. Hysterical bonding is months past.  We’ve not made love in weeks. Honestly I got tired of the “hysterical” part… The sobbing that always came after.. So we are back to where he and I were. In a happy sexless marriage that ultimately led him to pursue a sexual affair. I told him about a month ago that I couldn’t keep up the sex with him just to keep him happy. That he had to show interest in me and make advances toward me. I was always the pursuer… He’s made few weak passive suggestions that were twisted to make me pursue him. But I didn’t. It’s his move and he’s not doing anything. Actions speak louder…

But we get along. I think we’re doing okay at faking it…

Here lies my dilemma. Do I want to fake it? For how long?  I’m almost 47. Is this what I want to do for the next however many years… Or do I want to actively work to recover from this fucking disaster my husband has left us in. I know I’m going to do the work. Sure he’ll work along with me so long as I do the work… But I’m not sure that’s who I am for him anymore. I don’t want to hold his hand. I want him to man up and fix this mess and spend every day trying to assure me he’s never ever going to make such miserable choices again. That he’ll never cheat. But he doesn’t. He behaves exactly as he did for the past 18 years. Like nothing has happened. At least “not that big a deal.”

Is he so emotionally shallow and apathetic that he truly is “over it?” That’s what I seem focused on right now. And each day assures me that he is indeed both. He asked me a few days ago what was wrong.. I’ve been quiet for weeks. He finally noticed. After an awkward date night this past Saturday. I really don’t remember what specifically pissed me off but we were out to dinner at Applebee’s, our favorite go-to. And I was suddenly at a boiling point.

I ordered my second margarita and said “this is either going to make me drunk enough to tell you what I’m really thinking. Or it will make me fall asleep and keep my mouth shut.” I put the opportunity out there and he never asked. We kept casual conversation through dinner watching the final four and enjoying a new appetizer.  We went home and I indeed fell asleep watching t.v. We were waiting for kids to get home. Then went to bed, got up the next day and have never said a word.

So he asked me “What’s wrong?” Passive interest. And this was all the days before the six month anniversary. He seems clueless to. He just doesn’t get it.

I responded just as passively and with a bit of exasperation, “just the same shit, darling.” He just rolled his eyes and frowned as he walked away.

Neither did I.

we are both pretty good at faking it.

Seeking Council ..

So I finally did it. I made an appointment with a councilor “Jstew” for 3/17 at noon. It seems like no big deal, but it is for me. I’ve put it off far too long. I seem to be stuck at a place of being afraid to feel most anything. Except sadness, pain and grief. I’m not the “clinically depressed, that you can treat with Paxil.” and it goes away. I just can’t move forward. Or when I do, I creep along and only gain inches. I’m afraid of moving. Mostly because of all the things I don’t know. Somehow I’ve decided that I’m protecting myself by not asking the questions. Because I’m afraid of the answers. I keep telling myself that those answers are just “details” that “don’t matter” anyhow… I struggle to get past this… I’m also afraid that any answers and information will make this all more unbearable.

We had a lovely evening last night. I made one of my family’s favorite meals. It has no name, it’s really just “my own” dish. (I am a chef-wanna-be and food-prep junkie; cooking is one of “my favorite things.”) The dish quite simple; chicken cutlets sautéed in EVOO, fresh garlic and Italian herbs, just until it blackens and then de-glazed with a bit of water. (Last evening I used wine, as I poured myself a refill.) I added a side of Parmesan cheese angel-hair pasta, fresh-steamed Brocollini and roasted Brussels sprouts. It was a delicious meal and I had fun making it. Even better, I knew that everyone would enjoy the food I’d prepared. We also had a guest. My DD#2’s boyfriend was here. He’s a kind young man and he adores my daughter. There was activity, easy conversation and casual laughter about the house throughout the evening. My son got home with our youngest and the banter became more animated. All of us around the dinner table…My husband and I sipping wine and playing a trivia game and the kids all helping us, while doing homework.  It was all so pleasant and comfortable. It felt like what “normal” used to feel like.

I woke up feeling cheated again. Still sad, afraid. Lonely. I let down my shield and allowed my self to “just be” so that it doesn’t hurt. I dared to remember how silly, carefree and simply happy I could be with such mundane things, and at the same time feeling like I was going thru the motions “trying” to feel all those things. I know, it doesn’t make sense.

That’s what I mean. Stuck. And then I get angry. At my husband. And her. Because he cheated on me. They cheated me. I’m stuck, feel stuck, because of him. Because of them (spit.gag.puke.) She, Mouse, squeaked her feeble excuse and weak apology. Then blocked, erased and deleted the affair away and retreated back into her fucking hole of a life. Then there’s my husband, who has just moved on past the whole “Oops I tripped over my fucking self. Sure hope nobody saw me *blush* *blush* , *shrug* *Oh, and BTW, sorry I broke “you” when I fell on my fucking face.”

He “doesn’t recall” and “doesn’t remember.” He insists the whole affair was “Nothing.” And that it’s me, ME making it a big deal. “Well, excuse me? Isn’t having a fucking affair and cheating on your wife, lying to your wife for YEARS a big fucking deal??? He’s so fucking passive!!! He’s cheating his way “out” of his affair. Not taking a hard fucking look at himself to see why and how he could do this to me. To us. To Himself. He’s not doing a fucking thing. So, really it’s because of him I feel stuck. But, I can’t change or fix him. I can’t control his actions or choices. The only place I can start is with me. See if I can get “unstuck” and find some way to move forward… or somewhere. Anywhere but stuck. Here sucks.

My mind is all over the place about”where I should start” with Jstew next week. I’m putting in the work to mend my bruised, battered and broken heart. I want to go all in, lay all my shit out there so she knows where I am and we can get me unstuck as soon as possible. I don’t want to waste weeks rehashing my life and what got me here, where I am.. Under what feels like a shit pile the size of Kilimanjaro. I don’t want to waste time getting to a point where I can start to feel better. I want to feel better now. I hope to soon. So I think I can write it all out. Here in my blog.

I’m thinking that I’m going to use my blog as a way for her to understand me. If I end up not sharing it I’ll at least chronicle about “My life as told by me.”

So today I feel like I’m taking a step forward, toward me. Simple really but a bigger one that I’ve taken and one that I’ve been afraid to take…

God Made Girls

I asked my youngest daughter Boo, “Do I look fat in these jeans?” This past Saturday. I was trying to get dolled up to go on a date with my husband. Now mind you, Boo is a 13-year-old girl. She’s overweight, but acts more confident than I know she is. She makes poor food choices and disregards portion sizes.   She secretly snacks and hides the dishes or wrappers in the cushions or wherever. She’s become very sedentary. Up until this past year, she has run track and played soccer. Both quite well. She is a natural athlete. It’s highly likely that she will make varsity on a competitive class B soccer team as a freshmen. She is also a senior-level competitive dancer. Has danced 10-16 hours a week for the past five plus years.

This  past November we discovered the source of her lingering lower back pain. An X-ray confirmed a Spondylolisthesis  She has been in a back brace since early December. Five days ago her neurosurgeon (and to our fortune, an elite specialist in this disorder,) instructed that she wear her brace 24 hrs a day, 7 days a week. For the next 4 weeks. OMFG!!! I had already given up the battle with wearing it while awake. So five days in and “bribery” seems to be working. But she’s really uncomfortable and sad. She will not be able to dance in the recital in May. I’m sad for her. I’m sad for me. In my 15 years as a dance mom, there have only been 2-3 years without a recital. The last 6 have been consecutive. So, I’m sad for me too. I will miss the hustle and bustle of the weeks leading up to and including the Recital Weekend in early May, surrounding Mother’s Day and my birthday.

I’m really dreading May. There will be many triggers and difficult days.  Too many. I know something went on that week with my husband and Mouse. The number and timing of texts tells me so. I recall events and conversations around that week. I have a few emails they exchanged for that week. I even called my husband out in his careless and erratic behavior. He was truly bazaar. “We” bought “me” a new car. One he  decided on. I had very little say in it. In his defense, I didn’t put up a good fight. But I was uncomfortable with it. He knew that, but we did it anyways. He assured me it would be ok. To complicate it, the asshole salesman called him the next day and offered a second car, a good deal. He bought it. Literally. He assured me. We now own 2 new cars. I hate mine. He doesn’t think his behavior was off, doesn’t remember the events I’ve called him on. Doesn’t remember anything about seeing Mouse that week; insists that “I wouldn’t have made plans to see her because it’s Mother’s Day and your birthday.” Yeah. “Thanks for the special consideration. Asshole.” But I know something was off. Way fucking off. He doesn’t remember. Say it with me, “What a fucking Asshole!!!” Validation helps. Anyways. I hate my car. HATE IT! As soon as I can get a grip. I’m going to get trade it for something new. Regardless of the loss. Good fucking riddance. To say I’m  apprehensive about it this year’s recital season is an understatement. I’m counting the days until the calender says 2016. Not sure the significance of 2016, but my mind had determined it to be a benchmark. I don’t know what for. Yet. Maybe when I get there… So, I guess missing our annual recital activities and festivities will be a hidden blessing. I’m not really feeling it. Nor am I active or festive.

So my major self-esteem  and body image issues, damaged self (familiar ghosts…) in the wake of his affair is trying to get dolled up for our date. And I ask my Boo such a ridiculous question. “Do I look fat in these jeans?” WTF was I thinking?

She looked at me with a horrified expression and I couldn’t back-peddle fast enough. “Because I haven’t worn them in years!”  and “They are tight!” I think I was able to recover and save face. I sure hope! I really don’t want her thinking that “I think I’m fat.” I really don’t. I’m not. It’s just the whole lack of esteem thing.

But she’s had a rough year. This brace is going to be a challenge for the next 23 days. She’s texted me this morning letting me know it’s bothering her still. She took Motrin before going to school. The school RN is going to give her Tylenol. I truly feel for my baby. So with a strong shield of confidence, she is dealing with her own “13-year-old 8th grade girl issues.” I truly hope she is as strong as she appears. She’s gained a few pounds with the added restrictions of no “fun” activity imposed by her brace and doctor. Her brace affects her choice of clothing. And she’s very fashion conscious. But her straps, seems and waistbands impress upon her so she wears loose and baggy cloths. All these things can weather a struggling self-esteem or budding body image issues.

I hope my ridiculous question hasn’t crossed her mind, because the me before Dday would never have asked such a potentially damaging question of my fragile baby girl. I so love her. She truly completed my family.

My husband and I went out and had a wonderful evening. Truly. I can honestly say that we have a few new memories. We even poked fun at his affair and laughed at a “sarcastic jabs” I made in reference to his affair. He made an ice bar in our back yard. We bundled up and shared a bottle of wine outside. Talked easily and comfortably and played a trivia Game. It was a welcomed reprieve from our current state. For both of us.

Sometimes it just feels so awkward and fake.

But my girls really rock my world❤️