Friday, May 22, 2015

A Little Meloncholy

Today would have been my sixteenth wedding anniversary and I am a little melancholy. Not because D/H is gone, but because his absence is a glairing reminder of my failure.

The last few days helping with preparations for the Devine Miss M's wedding have taken me back to making preparations for my own wedding.

 Looking through my wedding album this morning, (the only day I have allowed myself to do that) I am misty-eyed. I had worked so hard to make sure everything was perfect. But did I focus on the wedding so much that I missed making sure that my marriage was fireproof as well?

I am a bystander for this event and happy to do whatever I am asked.  My own wedding was much different. Doing nearly everything by myself, getting sick and loosing my voice the day before the event, the kindergarten graduation delaying rehearsal, decorating the church and finding that a dear church lady had showed up to add little touches just for us.

There were little things that went wrong that I had to shrug off.  Little things that no one realized went wrong but me. The church taking down the modesty rail and changing the look of the stage the week of my wedding , how my shoes were suddenly too big, how the pianist booked two wedding for the same day so we had to move the time up, and most notably the sudden rain storm.  Little annoyances.

Probably the most stinging was D/H's biological mother calling to say that she was not coming to the wedding. But her absence lifted and invisible weight from everyone's shoulders, because no one had to deal with her selfish, self-centered antics. (gee I wonder where he learned that) I learned later that it was because she did not like me. Then D/H did the most selfless thing that he ever would do the entire time we were married. He chose me. That decision would lead to a rift between mother and son that last the duration of our marriage.  I am told that she hates the Homewrecker  as well, but is reluctant to say anything about it. "Look what happened last time I said something" she was quoted as saying.

As I think back, I ask myself, was it that I didn't love him enough? But the truth is that he didn't love me enough. He didn't love me enough to stay committed and faithful. There is nothing like finding out that your "fairytale" romance is over and that your Prince Charming was shagging the troll from under the bridge.

But I have come out the other side of this past year in a much better place. Scores of friends have told me how much happier I am now and that they are glad  they no longer have to entertain the boorish, insufferable lout that was D/H. They all sat by, powerless to save  me, mostly from the near constant stress of keeping them all from killing him. Needless to say, they are all glad that he is gone.

I do have moment where I miss him, but they quickly pass now. Moments when I see someone celebrating double digit anniversaries, or see those family pictures at the beach. and the "oh my spouse is so wonderful, look what they did for me."

 D/H was never interested in doing anything, or going anywhere, aside from drinking, sponging off our friends, and making an ass of himself, usually at my expense. But I have already done things in this year that I would never have been done if  I was still married  The ability to pick up at a moments notice and head anywhere, has been very exhilarating. "Why Not' has become my new motto. Friends have come back into my life now,. Friends that had enough of D/H's self -centered antics and just removed themselves from the situation. One can only be manipulated for so long.  I had missed them.

I am certain that I miss my son Tigger most of all.  Looking through my wedding album I look at his little face, so wide-eyed  and fresh with promise. I wonder what this experience has taught him about truly allowing himself to love someone, versus just using them to get what they want. How selfish and shallow, but I have learned over the years that this was the only thing D/H was good at. Using people. I know that Tigger is more compassionate than that.  I hope this hasn't taught him that people are only as good as what they do for you, and then they are disposable.

I had a dream earlier this week. I dreamed that I was actually home on the day that D/H left. I watched, helpless, as he packed his belonging in his truck. I had pleaded with him to talk to me about this rash decision, about throwing away the life we were building together. I stood on the porch, begging him to stay.

Then the most heart stopping part of the whole thing, turning my dream into a horrible nightmare:

He stayed

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