The Waking Up Is the Hardest Part

I'm completely powerless over my husband and what he's experiencing. I also know four months is a short amount of time. It's short in the big scheme of things, but it's forever when you're going thru it. I try to count my blessings (it's not difficult) and as September 11th approaches, I'm realizing that my lot in life, right now, is not as bad as some. It helps, truly, to remember that. It does! I'm grateful that Matt is alive and healthy! I'm grateful that there's still hope! I'm grateful that Oliver still has a father, an active father, in his life. He will always have that, I hope.

Oliver also knows that I love him and he can count on me. I am here for him. I will always be here for him, I hope.

I remind myself to look at things in a different way, maybe it is to minimize the pain, I don't know. I don't have a terminal illness. Thank God for that! I can't even imagine how I would feel if I was told I only had a few months to live. Or that Oliver was sick. And there is hope, given time, that Matt and I will find our way back to one another. No one is living on the streets, in a half-way house, or in a hospice center. Matt has not moved in with another woman (not saying there is one) and he has not filed for divorce.

So, that being said, why does this hurt so so so much? Why do some of my days get filled with anxiety and fear? Why do I feel like I can't breathe? Like I can't eat? (I'm down to 115 lbs, the weight I was when I got married.) Why do I sometimes feel so desperate? Why do I cry at the drop of a hat? Sometimes I wonder what the heck is wrong with me! What? What am I doing wrong that is making this so incredibly painful for me? I'm doing all I can! Really! But some days it feels like it's not getting any better. The pain is intense. What is wrong with me?

I admit I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'll never get better. There are just some days where there is no relief, at all, from the pain. None. The only relief I feel is when I place my head down on the pillow at the end of a day. It's a reprieve. I can close off my mind, my head, my heart. Sometimes my son is near me in the same bed, sometimes in the next room. Sometimes he's with his daddy. It's usually OK. At night, I'm usually OK.

The mornings are hell. That's what hurts. I dread the daylight. I dread the sun. I dread my long long days. John Mayer says it best with his song,

Dreaming with a Broken Heart

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
You roll outta bed and down on your knees
And for a moment you can hardly breathe

My guess is that there is no short cut to getting thru this. I can't drink or drug it away. I can "man" it away with another man. I can't shop it away. (There isn't enough merchandise anyway in this world.) I can't travel it away. I can't pray it away. I can't talk it away. Drive it away. Work it away. Love it away. Oliver it away. (Did I just use my son's name as a verb?)

Nothing takes it away. Sleep. Maybe. That's it.

This past weekend faith started to have some meaning for me too. Trust God. I told myself that all weekend. Trust God. Trust. Trust.

And my life is not that bad. So my husband left? Lots of women get thru this stuff. So what? Why is this so difficult then? What is fundamentally wrong with me?

And before you feel too sorry for me, please know that my husband is hurting too. I'm not the angel in this situation. I know it takes two to run down a relationship. He didn't just leave w/o reason, although to be honest, that is what happened initially. Yep. He just told me it was over. Two days later he had an apartment set up. Two days after that he was gone. Four days. From start to finish. And no chance to change anything, work on anything or do anything. I was completely powerless. In shock. Standing there. In disbelief. Empty handed. With a house, a toddler and my hurt, my pain, my terror.

But he had to flee. He had to run. He had to go. And we are both at fault. I later learned what had been hurting him for years in our marriage. I did not know that my actions were pushing him away. He kept it all in. Yes, that's on him. And now it's too late. He says he has to work thru his anger, his resentment, his walls, if he even can he says. And when he uncovers his charred soul (his words), he has no idea what his answer will be.

So I wait. In pain. Watching my son in pain. It's not fun. It's the hardest thing. Mornings suck. Each day that dawns I cry. Each morning I open my eyes and say, "NO! Already?" Rejection sucks. It feels like both Oliver and I have been left behind, rejected. Are you crying yet? I am. Is this too painful to read? It's too painful to write.

I only share it so that I can lesson my burden. So that I can hopefully document my journey. My friend told me yesterday, again, that I am walking thru this with grace and dignity. That I'm so strong on the outside. (For real?) My boss told me last week that he's amazed that I am performing so well at work and that I'm not letting this affect my work. (Was he serious?) There are even days when I get angry at Matt and think this is just plain wrong. I'm worth more than this. Yet the hurt and pain bring me back down. Some people say this is completely unfair. It is! So why doesn't Matt see that? Some people tell me about love, and how love is an action. Right. Why can't Matt see that? It's hard to let him figure this out on his own w/o my interference or without pressuring him. My point is, I write this here and share this with you so that you can hopefully see how I move thru this, and hopefully I will. Today it really does not feel like I will. But maybe someday somewhere another woman will find this blog and watch how I walked through the fire, kept walking, discovered things about myself both good and bad, found strength and lived to tell about it. Maybe this will help someone. Everyone says I'm going to be OK. Let's see if they are right. Because right now, it sure doesn't seem like it.

I want to make my son proud. I have to get through this for him.


  1. delicious1Wow powerful stuff! Just want you to know that it isn't just for women. My wife is leaving me as well and your description of your pain and how you are feeling fits me to a t!! Your words are exactly how I am feeling. 25 years of marriage and she says I'm not the man for her anymore! The pain of those words is excruciating. Unfortunately she isn't leaving the house but got a bed for our backroom and is just ripping my heart out. She has a good job and could certainly afford to get an apartment but she was told that she couldn't afford it. The pain is simply killing me!

  2. Andrew, I know how you feel, obviously. Please count your blessings that she is still there. I would do anything to have my husband back home, even if he were in another room. It seems only a miracle will heal our relationship.

    Read Divorce Remedy if you haven't already. It's the single most helpful thing I read and I've applied the principles from that book and they are working. They are working as far as not making matters worse for us. If I would have kept doing what I was doing that first month he moved out, he'd be long gone by now. I have to look at the small small steps forward. They are very small. But at least we are not divorced already. I thank God for that! Good luck and keep visiting!

  3. Andrea,

    I don't know you, but I followed a link to your blog from Darby's blog.

    I just wanted to tell you that I am a stranger who is praying for you. I can feel the pain in your words and my heart breaks for you. We serve a God who walks along with us in these trials, and I am praying that his presence will offer you some peace during this time.

    And as little as I know about you from reading your blog, I can tell you this: you are stronger than you think, and no matter HOW this situation unfolds, you WILL be okay. I just know it.

    Praying for you, dear.


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