The Roller Coaster Ride

I can’t even get the words out fast enough; I cannot write tall enough, strong enough, sad enough. I don’t know what to say to you all except this is the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to walk through in my life. The emotions woven through this are lower than low, the highs are just so-so, and the recovery process is like walking in a pool of water. I’m moving in slow-motion.

I thank you all for commenting when you do. I thank you for emailing. Texting. Writing. Calling. Stopping by.

I was doing well. I have to say, I was doing very well.

It’s the name of the game, and this is just not going to be a cake walk. I am not rejected, but I am rejected, but it’s not about me, but it is about me. What is it about me that keeps him away? Why does he see the good in me and then he can’t see the good in me? Why do I respect my vows but he does not? Why do I have to be single when it’s very possible he’s in the comfort of another woman’s arms? I’m not saying there is. But why do I even have to wonder? Is that fair? Oh, but life is NOT fair, right? And some of us get hurt. And some of us get burned. There’s so much pain in the world I can hardly stand it. I cannot even stand my own.

Today I do feel rejected. Unwanted. Unloved.

How could I write such a post as the one I wrote yesterday and then today fall to pieces? How can I stand tall and then fall to the ground as my legs crumple beneath me? How can I let go of that boy? I never meant to be a single mom. I never meant to give birth to this creature and then have to let him go like I do. To watch him cry in pain like I do. To see him act out like I do. He can barely get the words out sometimes before he falls into my arms crying, “Daddy! I want my Daddy! I miss my Daddy!” I’m falling apart today. Where is the strength in that?

Yesterday I met with other people in a similar situation as myself. I was floored at the pain I heard in the room. I’m not alone. Unless you’ve been through such grief, it’s possible to not understand. That’s why I’ve been told by those who have not been through this that I was too dependent upon my husband. I was told that I was co-dependent. I was told that I needed to snap out of this. I was told that I needed to get a life.

Well, I had a life. And I was independent. Maybe too much so. And if I could snap out of this I would!

What I heard yesterday for the first time was what marriage means to some people. Two become one. I was always very independent. In a marriage, you become interdependent. That’s OK. That’s healthy. It’s not sick to depend upon your spouse.

As well, in separation and D, there is so much loss. You lose your best friend. You lose your whole entire life. My child is the hardest. I lose seeing him wake up daily, putting him to bed nightly. I only get to do that 4 nights a week. I lose seeing him be happy and carefree. Oliver is so angry lately! He cries so often with a fierceness, and underneath that is the hurt. For myself, I’m going to lose our home. Financially I will hurt. I lose our meetings we used to attend together, the events we attended together. Matt will continue to go to those. I will not. (It’s like losing your church in a way.) Our trips to Door County are no longer. No more trips to Europe with my European husband travel guide. We did it all together. I just realized that Switzerland is one of my losses. My husband is Swiss. We traveled there every couple years together. Sure I can travel there without him. I may have to someday. But today that’s too painful to think about. As well, I come home and there are no more Friday night dinners, just the three of us. No more Saturday night movies. No more Sunday breakfasts, no more Sunday afternoon foot ball games. No more weekends away. No more family outings. No more sharing Oliver stories and laughing. No more standing over his bed together, arm in arm, as he sleeps. No more family. No more getting the three of us together. No more companionship. No more love. No sex. No partner. No one to talk to in bed, no one to bring a cup of coffee to in the morning. It’s all gone. Write it down. Add it up. It totals my life. My whole dang life. The loss is immeasurable. It’s a whole life.

And he doesn’t even care!!

He doesn’t want our life. He doesn’t care about one single thing that was a part of his life. He chucked it all. Me. The house. The yard. The stuff. Gone. He split. I’m not even sure if he’s looked back. He’s busy. Maybe there’s another woman. I don’t know. Seriously, I don’t know if there is or not. I don’t know where he lives. It sure sounds like it he’s hiding one. No more counseling. No more talking. Nothing. It’s all gone. At this point, it’s easier to D than to get back together. It’s more work to get back together. Only a God-granted miracle will change the course of this ship.

I suspect those papers will come any day now. Sometime this spring.

And that just breaks my heart because I think I really was hanging onto a bit of hope.

How will I ever forgive him for this?