My Men

I’ve come to the conclusion that the men I choose in my life suck.

The first man to suck was the father of my oldest daughter.  I was just 20. He abandoned us when I gave birth.

The second man, the main man, was John my husband of 28 years.  He is a narcissist.

Unbelievably, I fell in love with the third man just this last July, Rick.  We had known each other since we were teenagers.  He popped up into my life and manipulated me to such a degree even the likes of John and the other guy had never seen.

When the lies were revealed to me I deleted all his texts, photos, etc.  He has only tried to reach me once the next morning and haven’t heard from him since.  There is so much more to this story than the few sentences I have written.  I am so upset by his betrayal that I’m not even able to write about it fully.

My therapist warned me to go slowly.  I honestly tried.  At first I thought I was.  I think my perception of slow is different from other people’s.  It must have something to do with a lifetime of running my four-day ultra-rapid cycling pattern.

I was going slow for me.

In addition to the hate for Rick,  and all the lies he told, I feel used.  I feel violated. I know that word it tossed around and has made us all insensitive to it, but I was in every sense of the word.  The situation this man caused was so horrible it made me miss John.  The night that the bottom fell out of this short relationship I stacked up my pillows in bed and tried to hug them like they were John.  That is so sad I’m tearing up remembering it.

For all the trash I talk about John, I miss him.  He always protected me.  Half the time he was what I needed protection from, but that’s how I felt even though it might not have been true.  It’s normal to still miss him.  I have a crazy unrealistic healing time schedule in my mind.

The advice I’ve been given is to feel what I’m feeling.  It doesn’t mean I want him back. I’ve cried on and off since last Monday.  I don’t even seem to be able to hold tears back even when I want to.  I cry because I miss John, I cry because Rick broke my heart.  I cry because I’m lonely.  I miss my oldest daughter and my son.  I’m crying now.  I’m just so sad.

I’ve got a long road.  I thought I could make it shorter, but it doesn’t work that way.

 

 

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Fascinating

It’s been about 6 weeks since I’ve been free from the tyranny that was John, my husband, now my ex-husband.

I can remember when I became a wife and he became my husband what a kick I got out of saying, “I’ll ask my husband” or “My husband likes that”.  Now I get the same kind of wonder and thrill when I say my ex-husband.  It didn’t take me long at all to stop tripping up and saying “my husband” and having to correct myself “I mean, my ex-husband”.  I know whoever I’m talking to doesn’t care either way, but it is important to me to be clear for my own sake.  I keep expecting to break down into tears when I realize finally that it’s over.  That hasn’t happened in fact I just keep getting happier and more peaceful as each day goes by.

Tonight, he called and said he was coming by with some things I left behind and to give Allison her birthday card.  I said okay and immediately began to try on clothes that make me look thin and young.  Of course, I don’t have any sort of magical clothing that does that, so I settled with a long t-shirt and skinny jeans.  Put my hair up, let it down, put it back up again.  Thought about makeup, decided against it, I mean it was 8pm, makeup wasn’t going to improve me enough to be worth it.

The last time I had seen him was the day I moved and he stood in the doorway of his house and said I couldn’t come in ever again.

This time, at my house, I invited him in and let him look at the kitchen and the living room.  He seemed normal, the way he would treat anyone else.    We chatted a bit the way we always have and then he left.

No rush of emotions either way.

Fascinating.

 

 

 

 

 

 

That Was Then….

That was then, this is now.

Stinging Tears   Crushed  Love to Hatred Turned  Another Horrible Crazy Christmas

It’s been a hard road, 27 years.

I made it through and out the other end, battered and bruised, but out.

Tonight I feel calm, peace, happiness, relief and maybe a little joy.

To be continued…….

Crushed

Feeling crushed tonight.

Times like these I just really want to give in to my illness and feel sorry for myself.  I don’t feel like being strong and “high functioning”.

Remember my “Stinging Tears” post?  It almost happened again at work today.  I am blessed to be working so closely with a woman who is so like me and then again not.  I need a man like that.

This time she was in the office with me and offered to leave me in there, close the door and shut the blinds.  A little humor goes a long way when your life and emotions feel like they are spiraling down like flushing a toilet bowl.  Not the most eloquent analogy, but for some reason that is the mental image that comes to mind.

I have been doing a little spying.  No, because this blog is all about honesty, A LOT OF SPYING!  I’ve found out through and overheard conversations that someone is not being truthful with me.  In face I feel completely betrayed and revolted by what I have overheard by accident.  It really was by accident.  He was so drunk in the hot tub he didn’t realize how loud he was talking.  I also know he thinks I am a complete moron and couldn’t possibly find his secrets.

The bastard has turned me into an obsessed individual looking for anything I can get my hands on. Rummaging through drawers, digging through paperwork and buying a USB recording device that I either leave casually on the table or placed in my bra.

Because this is so against my nature, I am torturing myself with my own behavior!  What the hell have I turned into?  I know I can’t use this information to help me with the divorce, but I just need to know.

Why do I need to know?  I have been living under a narcissist my whole life,  23 years with my mother and 27 with my husband.  I can never seem to get it through my thick head that I will never feel justified.  I can’t hear another self-affirmation again. I can’t try another “healthy or mature way to take this betrayal” Is taking the high road all that great?  The only person it really helps is the offender.  The victim is still left with feelings of unworthiness.

I want to shred his clothes. I want to key his truck. I want to tell his mother. I want to make him suffer. Even though it doesn’t make me feel better in the moment,  the best punishment for him is for me to outsmart him.

He really shouldn’t underestimate me.  I’m not as dumb as he has always told me I am.

Stinging Tears

I was standing designing library signs on the computer.  All of a sudden I burst into tears.  Well not really burst, no one knew I was crying, but I felt like I had burst.

It started with my eyes stinging and then some deep breathes and face getting all scrunched up.  I realized at that point it was too late to keep it under wraps and I went into the office and shut the door.  The office was dark, but one wall is all windows that face the library.  I positioned myself between the door and the wall in a shadow so no one could see me falling apart.

I stood for a couple of minutes silently with tears running down my cheeks.  Inside my brain was battling was this really necessary for me to be crying in the first place and how much further and animated was this about to go?

While I was pulling a paper towel from the dispenser to wipe my eyes I began to sob.  Sobbing is heart breaking even for the person doing it.  When I was young I would let it all hang out and make as much noise as I felt necessary.  Now days I hardly ever cry, but when I do it is as quietly and reserved as I can manage.

Silently sobbing, my chest heaving and drying my eyes lasted a few more minutes until I felt I could move on and begin to recover.  I put my glasses back on trying to disguise some of the red face.  It’s always my red nose and lips that give me away.

I preach to everyone that a good cry is usually beneficial.  It wasn’t today.  It was horribly emotional and physically painful.

I haven’t written in a while because I have been completely up to my neck in getting a divorce.  It’s really happening this time.  My sweet narcissist husband started his old tricks last night of twisting my words and making veiled threats.  I was doing really well until I realized that he still has hold of me in a PTSD sort of way.  I fell into his trap and said a few things I had sworn I would not say as to not make things worse than they already are.  I was supposed to be laying low and silently suffering the way I had learned to after years of this treatment. I’m still kicking myself for not being able to hang on to my cutting words.

It was feeling overwhelmed today and not having anyone to talk to about it is what set me into tears.  I realized that I wanted to talk to my mom.  She was good for that.  She listened to me for years about him and always made me feel tough and fiery.  She didn’t give great advice, but she listened and was completely on my side.

For the first time in almost two years I missed her.  Two years since I’ve talked to her. It hit me hard that she is dead.  And realizing I needed her for that made me start thinking of the other things I miss.  Honestly, I just feel like hell today.

Can Housework Fix a Broken Marriage?

I talked to my psychiatrist today. He asked how my relationship with John was going. I started to tell him and then it dawned on me that I haven’t really thought about it lately. Has it happened again? Has he lulled me into a false state of security? I started to panic and blame myself for being so stupid again, but then I said to myself, “It’s okay. “

I’m still not wearing my wedding ring. I still have the divorce papers filed. I still haven’t planned our vacation in July. I may have started to enjoy the new John because he is being very nice, loving and patient, but I cannot forget that it won’t last. It has only been 6 weeks since he said he will go for therapy. He has gone twice.

I am very suspicious that he isn’t telling his therapist the whole story. After his first visit I was asked to write two things that I would like John to do. I wrote a paragraph about how he treats me and the family. The first thing I wanted him to do is to treat us better.

John came home with a chore list from the therapist. Not a chore list of things he should work on, but a list to organize his family to do chores, literally chores. Cleaning the bathroom, kitchen etc. She must have been told by John that this was the whole reason for our problems.

Misguided Rage

What I realized this morning is that the rage I’d been waiting for wasn’t coming for me at all. John had to have some release, but he has too much too lose to rage against me at the moment because of the big D hanging above his head.

I knew it was coming. It didn’t dawn on me it could be for Tristan.  I can handle it, was even looking forward to it in a strange twisted way so I could finally move on. That’s what I figured I needed for the final “sayonara sucker”.

I was woken up at 11:30 last night to John showing me the texts he had been sending to Tristan that were going unanswered. I knew Tristan was at work until a 2 am doing inventory. I knew he had taken the old Subaru because he couldn’t find the keys to his car. John did not know any of this, until he showed me the ranting texts and I told him. Ten in a row about not believing he was at work, the car being stolen, going to call the police if he didn’t answer the texts. Oh, God, it went on and on. Nothing new.

He hasn’t been for the therapy yet. It’s been a week. I’ve got to come up with a time frame for this to happen before I give him the divorce papers.

He’s going to be home in a few hours. How do I act? I feel a bit sick.