Thursday, January 23, 2014

One Day at a Time Sweet Jesus

That has been my theme for the last twenty-eight days.

Surprisingly, I am still alive. Strength has come from somewhere down deep. I know the Lord has put it there. The benefit of being in a continuous prayer state.  I'm just taking each day, one day at a time,

The first forty-eight hours I did not eat or sleep. From the time I woke up on 4:30 a.m. Friday morning, took my shower and prepared for work, until about 7:00 a.m. Sunday morning, every time I closed my eyes, my husbands face was all that I saw.  I used the time constructively, not wanting to sit still as long as the Lord was giving me strength. I packed all of his remaining belongings and stacked them in the corner of the living room, to make it easier for him to pack when he came for them.

When I did nod off Sunday morning, on the couch in the living room,  I had a dream that his mistress had broken in and was standing over me with a gun. A loud bang somewhere in the house, provided the sound effect for my dream. I woke up with a start, startling both of the cats, perched anxiously over me on the back of the couch.

Another strange occurrence is that I haven't really cried much.  I am told that I am a true Drama Queen, and when I was a child, I was known for my crying jags. Emotion overwhelms me and tears just begin to flow. But I have only had a few instances of true tears. I didn't really break down on the day that he left. I think that I was in shock. Looking back, maybe I was relieved.

The first true tears came on New Year's Eve, as I tried to fake being happy at a NYE party. Everyone was so sweet to me, and took turns making sure that I was dancing and having a good time. Everyone was doing a pretty good job keeping my mind off of it and keeping me occupied. But as the clock struck midnight, everyone kissed their partner and it hit me. For the first time in sixteen years, I would not be getting a midnight kiss.  My husband would be kissing someone else.  I fled to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall. Try as I might, the tears flowed. It wasn't long before I decided to make an early exit.

The other was on January 11th, when Darling Hubby backed the UHaul truck into our driveway.

That was the 17th anniversary of the day that we had met. I had always mentioned it to him and this year was no exception.

 "How fitting that today is the day you move everything left out of my life. The seventeenth anniversary of the day that we met.  I guess things have come full circle."

He stoically walked past me, and into the house.

I asked questions, that got mostly one word answers. Only what was necessary for the event at hand, Was this Julz's t.v. table or Tigger's. Where was a bag to put the bolts to Kit-Kat's bedframe. As he rolled down the door of the truck and started to leave, I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "No hard feelings?" He could not even look at me. He didn't even have the common courtesy to say good-bye. I instantly came unglued. My step-dad held me back, as I screamed from the porch, what a coward he was, and didn't have the guts to face me. He just drove off. The whole thing took less than two hours.

I laid in the floor in a heap, sobbing and screaming. How could he just throw me away like this? I had invested nearly fourteen years in our marriage and this woman had enticed him away in just a few short months.

Where did I go wrong? Several friends have chalked the situation up to a middle life crisis. I had never thought of us as "middle aged," being that I was perpetually eighteen in my head. That may seem ridiculous to some, but it is that thought seems to keep me young. Forty-two was around the right age for a mid-life breakdown. He needed someone to stroke his ego again, and make him feel like the knight in shining armor, riding in the white horse to save the day. For that he needed someone who was poor, and even lower in class than himself.  Why else would he pick someone living in government housing? This would make him appear somewhat affluent and could even impress her family. Someone so desperate for love, they were willing to steal him away from his family. Someone who was resigned to being the doormat for him to eventually wipe his feet on when he tired of her, just as he had done with me. After all, if they will cheat WITH you, eventually they will cheat ON you.

I'm just glad that I'm not having to run into him at the local Walmart, like we always did with our exes. I'm not sure I will ever have the occasion to run into him, now that he's moved an hour away. I'm not sure how I would react if I did see him.

 I'm also not certain he will recognize me , as the stress and turmoil has caused me to lose over 15 pounds.  I am now just eight pounds from my goal weight of 140. My cardiologist will be so proud when I see him next month. I came across the jeans I was wearing the night I first met him. They almost fit. Glad I hung on to them.

I have a close friend who lost her husband in an accident over a year ago. She reminded me of the advice that I gave her, almost daily, as she battled the demons from her own loss.  "Baby Steps" I would say, "take baby steps each day. Keep moving forward. It's okay to stop every once in a while. but don't step back. Keep moving forward."  Funny how this message would be exactly what I needed.

I am getting reports from mutual friends about the things he is posting about the situation on Facebook. 

The first was a long rambling post about "walking a mile in his shoes," and that there are "two sides to every story" and he was disappointed that he had to delete so many people he thought were friends because they chose to believe the "lies". He implied that I was manipulating the situation. He admited that was an ugly situation it was, but not to judge him for what he had done. He said that he had reasons for doing it the way that he did, and "those closest to him" knew why.

Maybe he means his mistress. I understand that she is steadily working to separate him not only from his children, but from the life he once had in our town. A red flag went up. That is the first tactic of an abusive partner, and after seven years of being married to one, I should know.  I am left to wonder what other signs that he may be missing  Or that she might be missing. I'm not sure who is using whom here.

Maybe he meant our friends. He had been telling them what he had been planning for the last month or so. He had some sort of dirt on everyone, so no one dared breath a word to me, for fear his allegations would cause problems in their own lives. They tell me that they are all sorry that they didn't clue me in sooner. All are in agreement that real friends don't treat friends this way.

I know that he did not mean his family either, who are all at a loss for words. They have apologized to me for his behavior. I have had them tell me that I will always be "their family" and have given me their support and prayers as we face this situation.  I am told that none of them want to ever meet the mistress. I will be a very hard act to follow. But all agree, I deserve so much better than a man who would stoop so low.

And my children? My girls, both angry and hurt, comfort me each time I see them. Julz has been separated from the siblings that she had so desperately wanted. Kit-Kat was sent off to live with her biological mother, whom she had no contact with for over ten years, and limited contact now. Only Tigger, my son hasn't spoken to me. He will not respond to my calls or texts. He was thrown right in the middle of that lion's den, because he didn't have anywhere else to go. He is a "going through the motions to avoid the emotions" kinda guy. I am certain that he is hurt by the whole situation, that went down just 24 hours before his birthday.

More recent rants from him over the last few days, lead me to believe that he is getting some sort of flack from somewhere. He posts about being "a grown up" and being capable of making his own decisions,  telling friends to delete him from their friends lists if they don't agree with his choice.  He said that he was "happier and more in love than ever in his life."

That stung.

HE was the one that made things ugly. HE left. HE cheated. HE wasn't going to tell me why. HE never told me that there was a problem. HE never told me that there was someone he wanted to be with more than me. HE never told me that he didn't want me anymore. HE was the one that threw away a 17 year relationship for some fling. How does that make ME the liar? How am I supposed to be manipulating everyone? HE was the one who was blackmailing everyone! I just don't understand. Is he trying to ease his own conscience?  I wonder when the consequences will catch up to him.

I grew up with a friend who is a lawyer. He handled the divorce of a coworker, so I called him the first week, right after New Years. He drew up the papers that day. On January 6th, I signed the "complaint."  He signed on the 10th.  Now we wait to come up with the money.

With the stroke of a pen, life as I knew it will end.

I met a friend for coffee earlier this week. I'm not sure what drew the attention to the thin, gold band on my left hand.  "So when are you going to take off your wedding ring?"
I looked down at it, and the indention worn into my finger. It was almost as if it was part of me now.

"I honestly don't know." was my reply.

Until then, I will be taking life just one day at a time.

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