Fork in the Road

2 years ago--and even before that

Two years ago, my husband and I were living together with our son in a house, but we'd ceased to be a family.  The X wasn't working much, I was travelling all the time, and the Kid was trying to get through high school--and figure out college.  I was unhappy, gaining weight, emotionally starved for love, affection, attention--but I refused to consider ending the relationship--the concept seemed impossible.

What scares me is that as I was thinking about the recent past--and cleaning out my closets--I found some journal writings I'd done 3 years ago, in December 2003. Here's some of the (raw) writing frm that time:

"How many different ways are there to say I am not doing well at all?...(Name of my X) is turning into an old man in a lot of ways, chubby, always eating, says whatever colmes into his head, no matter how crude, seems to have an inability to be loving--no compliments, anymore, for example.  The last time someone gave me a compliment I can recall is last August, in Colorado, when someone I was working with complimented my blouse.  The X rarely even says I look good.

Sometimes, I think I married the wrong person, or have outgrown him--he's a good man but I am starving for attention. Which brings me to my weight--I have gained 30 pounds, all the weight I lost in the past 3 years.  I feel that I am literally starving for attention, and that food is the only thin I know how to use to reward myself. There is just so little to personally look forward too--it is depressing.:

--There's more, but you get the drift..life was miserable--and soon to get worse.

When I read these posts I feel so grateful for my life, so happy I was able to create another reality filled with friends and family, not with pain and hurt.  I still haven't lost that weight, which  bothers me, but at least I am active, limber, flexible--and I am not pained and scared because of the way someone else is lashing out at me , lost in his own pain.

Angst (but not mine)

Chris, from Coming Out at 48, is posting again,and he's writing on a theme I've been thinking about as well--looking back at feelings from the end of his marriage that perhaps were too painful to face head on at the time. 
Chris' post on the painful sounds he made as he came and went from his (no longer) home really spoke to me.  Here's  an excerpt:
"I was alone but I could hear sounds, I'd never heard such sounds, they weren't like sounds I could identify, I'd always heard this happened at times like this, someone's hair turns white in an instant, or someone makes sounds like this. Sounds like these that I was making, cries, not words, not crying, not shouts, I looked outside and I could see the dog, he was near the pool, he could hear the sounds, too, and he had never heard such sounds before either. These sounds I was making, leaving, and never coming back to live there again. And if someone wants angst, if someone needs to know that this wasn't easy, if someone wants to know what the lowest moment was, it was that day, gathering up my things, in boxes and on hangars, great sweeping arcs without much thought or discrimination and the most hopeless incomprehensible how did I get here where I am going I am very alone sounds, sounds that frightened the dog and frightened me, too."

I have my own sounds, sounds that live inside my heart and that come back and speak to me late at night, when I am in bed alone, wondering if I will ever want to live with anyone ever again.

Sunday, Sunny Sunday

Last night I dreamt  I'd gone back to college, to study. It was the end of the semester, and I was walking through the emptied out school buildings, reluctant to leave and wondering if I could stay and study another semester.  In the dream, it seemed clear I wanted to return to a life of the mind--reading, writing--maybe teaching and was trying to figure out how to do that.

Now I am awake, drinking coffee as the sun pours in, beautiful day outside, pondering my aloneness. Although we are all alone, in the end, I've been cut loose from my past in a way I never anticipated--who would have thought that after almost 26 years of being together, the X would decide to end our relationship? I've not only lost him as a partner--something I don't particularly regret--I've lost our shared history and connection--and that's what is coming back into my psyche as something that hurts.

The X and I are goingto get together next week and exchange money we owe one another, and  it scares me.  I've been thinking that there is no way I can pretend this man trusts me--if he trusted me, we'd never have gotten divorced--so it is a mistake and a disception to imagine I am going to be seeing someone who would be a friend--he's not, even if he'd like to pretend he is.  So I will have my 3rd or 4th meeting in alittle more than a year with the X next week, and I am scared about it--scared of his lingering power (and desire?) to hurt me and prove me broken and wrong, scared of my own strong--and ultimately unrealistic wish-- that we go on as friends of some sort, a wish that he can't be capable of or he would not have left me as he did, lying and pretending.

I am scared of our meeting, I dread it--not only for what it may feel like, but because it may make me feel like a total failure--a woman alone in mid life who was not able to keep her partner and who now has no life partner (yes, I was trained to believe being a loving and committed wife is the pinnacle of success)--and no prospects of having one, either.

I recognize that I own my life,that I create it, and that life's a journey no one can control. But I wish I wanted something different that what Iwant right now--I wish I wanted to meet a nice man and be safe and get married--instead of wanting to have a relationship with two definitely alternative guys, one already committed to someone else, the other indefinitely ill.

I keep hoping Prince Charming might arrive and sweep me off my feet--but I recognize that if he did, I would probably refuse him.

So today I am going to do yoga, and return shoes I bought and do laundry and think about the fears I have and the best ways to put them to rest. Before I have to see the X.

Memories: Birthday 2005

Last January, husband was away on  a trip when my birthday came around.  We'd already had a disastrous weekend away and it seems unlikely we'd work things out--and yet, I wanted to hope.

On the night of my birthday, I took The Kid out to a nice Italian restaurant for a good meal.  He'd moved out earlier in the month to live with roommates, and this was very nice of him--to make time in his school/work schedule to spend my birthday with me.  We had a full dinner--appetizers, salad, wine, etc. and talked easily.  Sometime into the entree, The Kid began talking about his (then current) girlfriend's parents and their battles. "Well, at least you and Dad get along pretty well," he said, preparing to move into more descriptions of some conflicts. 

I still remember how I hesitated at that moment: Should I say nothing and respect husband's request to not mention our problems to the kid--Or should I give him a heads up that things were actually,well, terrible?  I chose the latter, took a deep breath and said,"Uh, actually things are not good between your Dad and me.  I have to ask you to not tell your father I said anything to you, and I am sorry I am asking you that, but I can't talk about it unless we agree on that rule--your Dad really did not want you to know."

Eyes wide, The Kid agreed to keep my confidence.  I then gave him a quick sketch of how we'd been in trouble since the summer, been in counseling for seven months, but it didn't seem to be helping enough.  I withheld my feeling we would probably split up since that seemed like too much to share at once.

The Kid was silent, listening. When I finished, he shook his head and said "Man, I can't believe it--Deborah (old girlfriend) said she thought you two weren't getting along and I told her she was crazy. Damn! What do I know!"

After dinner, I went back to the empty house and The Kid went home.

Now, a year later, I am living on my own.  My birthday this year was completely different--filled with friends, boyfriends, and, of course, The Kid(and his new girlfriend). The Ex sent a card, as I hoped he would, but he's at the edge of the story, not in the center.

Once again, I feel profoundly grateful for having survived the breakup last year and coming through into a new life--one where I am both more myself and so much happier.

My first post--Feb 2005

Here's the link to my first post--February 2005.

thanks God I survived!

January 2005

We were in a distant city, in a hotel together. Husband slept on his side of the bed, curled away from me; we did not touch. I walked behind him on the city streets, eager to please, and scared. He'd come from a trip with a friend and we'd agreed to meet for a weekend but nothing was going well, really, not well enough.  We sat in a nice restaurant  and had great food, but there was nothing to say; I felt 200 years old and wondered if I could endure this forever. That weekend, the ma who would not touch me, would not hug me, gave me a gift--a silk robe and a matching chemise.  Soft, pink and fluttery--but the chemise was too big, and robe too small--just a bit too tight to be comfortable. I wore the pretty nightclothes and lay on my side of the bed, aching to be held, but held off by the broad back solidly turned against me.

It was only a few days later that we saw the therapist and husband said he wanted to leave the marriage, that it wasn't going to work out.  Listening to those words, I wanted to scream a scream that would shatter every light bulb in the room, but I held it inside me knowing there was nothing I could do, feeling numb, frozen and sick to my stomach.  I remember husband and I walking to the car and how I wanted to touch him, to look at him, but knew I could not do either.

At the next session, I mentioned the pretty lingerie he'd given me, and the therapist asked why he'd chosen something so intimate. " I thought she'd like it," husband said.  "She woulda liked it if you gave her a book," replied therapist.

When I moved out in April, I threw the pretty silk nightgown set away; like the protective shirt one of the heroes wears in a Greek myth that turns out to be soaked in poison and burns through his flesh, they were unwearable, destructive.

When it was over

Before the holidays,I imagined this time of year would be really tough for me:
The first Thanksgiving without husband, husband's birthday, the holiday--
The reality is that it hasn't been so hard, so far--I am SO MUCH happier and don't have anyone in my life who caused me the deep pain husband did.

I remember last New Year's Eve--that was the night when I first realized that maybe we weren't going to be able to work things out.  We'd gone out to have sushi and see a play, and both were great--I was having a wonderful time.
After the show, we walked to the car and go in to go home--I was chattering away, excited about the play we'd seen and feeling excited.  Suddenly, husband lashed out at me.   "I was talking at him, not to him...I was acting like a critic, a blogger and taking his experience away..." He went on and on, quite angrily, in a way that was both completely unexpected and very upsetting.
I sat in the car and cried, feeling to blame, but also feeling completely helpless.  The idea that I was making husband so upset, without even trying to, quite inadvertently, upset me a lot--I felt like I was unable to please him,to do anything right...And I had been feeling so happy, so good--at the same moment he was feeling so awful.  The evidence we were so far apart really scared me....
A few days after new years', we were at the therapist's, and I talked about how we'd had a fight and then made up--but husband said that he actually hadn't gotten over it.
That was the moment it became clear that no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I turned myself inside out, husband wasn't present with me--he wanted out.
Looking back on this reality, not quite a year later, my feelings are mixed.
On one hand, I remember the intense pain and hurt I felt, the deep sorrow we were probably not going to continue our life together, the anger and disappointment he could want to let go--On the other, I see how happy I am right now, how my life is so much better than it had been for so many years--and I am so grateful for that, for what seems an unexpected freedom, a grace, a blessing, a miracle.

Dreamed about husband, again

I'm dreaming.
In the dream I have driven husband's old, extra car from Chicago to California, but I have not
thought about how I am going to bring it back. 
It's 5 days to drive there, and I can't take the time,
but I can't keep it either.
Suddenly husband is at the house, but he won't speak to me.
I see him at the table but he looks away and I don't say a word because
I know it will make no difference, just make the hot tears rise even faster to my eyes,
choke up my throat.

I wake up and feel the loss of him once more, just as I feel it every day,
the loss I fight against with the new life I am making,
the new hopes and pleasures I am creating,
but once again, as always when I dream,
nothing hides the pain.

Dream of husband, again

Talked to a friend on the phone yesterday who asked how I was feeling about the break up.
"Not so good," I admitted, describing the mourning I'm going through.
Last night I had a drink with a man who--while looking nothing like him--demonstrated he had a number of traits--and interests--similar to husband's.
Kiss of death?
Yes.
So last night I dreamt about husband.
We had been apart, not talking, and I was yearning for him.
Then we were together, in a house that was being cleaned out, and we were supposed to wait (nice symbolism for divorce, huh?)
"I miss talking to you," I said. "I miss knowing what's going on with your life.  You had surgery and didn't even tell me--it felt so bad."
In the dream, husband made no response.
Just like in real life, he did not want to talk.

I woke up feeling so happy I'd seen him, then realized it was a dream.

Talking with Ze

In my old hometown, talking with Ze, my best friend from 10 years ago.
Ze and I had kids at the same time and were inseperable till we moved away, about 10 years ago.
I am telling her how san I feel about husband sometimes.
"You know, I think you got caught in ego stuff about your job and your work and you weren't emotionally close to your husband," she says. "I wouldn't say that sic years ago, but  can say it now."
wW talk about being close to someone else, being emotionally open, what that means.
She's probably right, and that depresses me further.