I Run to You
When I hurt, I run to my blog. When I'm living life peacefully, it's difficult to find the time to write. When I'm in pain, I can't wait to find the keys on my laptop so that I can get the discomfort out.
While the weekend was nice, it was not without its emotional challenges. I'm not who I was last year or the year before. I'm OK and living well. I'm stronger. And anything that is NOT like 2010 and 2011 is good, no matter how much I might hurt at times. It's true, there is nothing as bad as how I felt the last couple years. Need I say it again? I know people have it worse, way worse. Way WAY worse. And yet for me, that was my worse. The experiences were profound and perhaps it's how I'm wired — to be keenly aware of distress and to experience it as tho nothing else in the world exists. I felt hurt precisely and intensely, so much so that it rendered me useless, at least to my standards of what kind of woman and mother I wanted to be. Yet, I lived. I strove to get thru those days, and if I were to take stock, as I've done, as others have kindly done for me in my pathetic moments, I see that I'm a strong woman who faced adversity and made a great life for herself and her son. My God, there was not one day I spent in bed under the covers, even tho I wished could go under wraps and wake up to a perished nightmare.
The weekend in Door County at our quaint little cottage in the quaint little town of Gills Rock was fun. I had a few challenges which set me back reeling into the past, into emotions I did not want to succumb to. Best thing about this visit and the one this year prior is that I did not miss Matt, not one bit. That is a first for me. Last year, and of course the summer before, I thought about Matt incessantly whether I wanted to or not. Memories were crawling all over, of him... and us... and the family and how badly I wanted it all back... and how I wished I could change the past... and how I wished I could show him I "learned my lesson"... I could reach out and touch what I wanted; it was so real that I could smell it; I could taste it; I could hold it tightly in my arms. I imagined over and over again that he'd come riding up to the cottage with a reserved joy, hoping too, anticipating a healing of that severed limb. It never happened.
This year those dreams of my knight in a shining silver pick up truck are not in the forefront of my mind. I have no expectations. Those dreams are dead. They've been replaced, gladly, happily, with new ones. Better ones. Now I know I deserve more. I don't say better. I mean more. More than what I once had.
Thinking about Matt too much is not good for me. What is not good for me is not good for Oliver. Talking to Matt about anything related to "us" destroys any confidence and serenity that I have. He hasn't moved past this enough to not see the worst in me. He acknowledges changes in me, but he still reacts — strongly and without compassion — as if I am still the same woman. He thinks poorly of me. He thinks he knows me. He has little (no) compassion for me. He has little if any remorse, no pain from leaving, no guilt for what he's done. He surrounds himself with people who support his decisions, and he qualifies their support by his good feelings. Anything I have to say gets brushed to the side, and since I never liked his friends anyway (says he), my opinion of what they believe is easily dismissed. (BTW, the friends Matt chose lied to him, used him, made fun of him, yelled at him, belittled him. I'm in that awful place right now where I could name names and I could list the grievances, but I'm striving to stop this horrible space my head is in and gather up the good in my heart and hold onto that, not this ugly stuff.) I'm not in agreement with his friends who tell him he needs to be happy and toss the rest aside, that we'll be fine.
I guess I'm still bitter and angry, altho if you were to meet me in person and hang out with me, this subject rarely comes up. If you were to live in my head for a few weeks, you'd see how little I seethe over this. It's just that when I allow it to come to surface, I have ugly, bitter, hurtful emotions that I still need to deal with. Give me time. They will heal eventually. I look forward to that day.
Memorial Day weekend a few of these windy, twirling, gusty memories came right up to my face. The first one kindly tapped me on the shoulder, blew softly into my ear and said, "Remember me? Let me refresh your memory. You were married once, remember? Do you? Let me remind you how he hurt you. How he walked out. How he lied. How mean and unsympathetic he was. He betrayed you, not with another woman, but betrayed you by telling you he loved you and then never telling you when he was slipping away. He disappeared, you know? That guy? That guy you married? He left and instead you had someone else, he morphed into a callous person. You loved him and he betrayed you and your son. Tossed you aside like a used tissue. He closed the door to all you were, all he had with you. He doesn't look back. He walked away from everything... the marriage, the family, the home, the responsibilities, the things you bought together. The photos are left behind. Trashed actually. Do you know he threw your pictures, framed pictures, into the trash last weekend? Yep. Took 'em to the dump. And guess what? He's having fun now. Yep. Has a good life. A girl friend. Lots of sex. Lots of fun. Taking her out to dinners. Spending his evenings with her, on the couch, cuddled, watching movies. He's making her dinners, he's going places with her. He's kind to her, just like he used to be with you. You know that guy don't you? The one who was sweet on you? The one who is a good good guy? He's a good guy you know. And now someone else has him. And he thinks you are not worthy of loving. You're too.... whatever. Whatever it is that is yucky, well that is you."
Then there's the other visitor, even more dangerous that the last. This one is a gorilla. It's where I go into the cage, one more time, and dance with the gorilla. Silly girl. You know that beast will tear you down. You know he's not going to speak your language. You know he has ear plugs in and blind fold on.
He does not hear you.
He does not see you.
He does not understand you.
So quit fuckin' trying! Because, girl, you are going insane, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting THIS TIME it will be different.
He will hear me.
He will see me.
He will understand me.
Oops.
Nope.
He don't hear nothin'. He don't see it your way. He sees you as crazy, girl. You're crazy and you are just affirming his choice to leave you. He's not coming back. He'll never come back. He'll never understand what he did. He will never believe he did the wrong thing. He will never believe it hurts Oliver.... because someone told him that Oliver will be fine. And he will never understand how deeply you hurt.
So quit fuckin' trying. Damn girl. Let it go.
Oh my goodness. I fall into that trap, and recently have fallen into it 1000 times over; and yet I don't feel enough pain to stop my own madness. The color of madness. I'm mad. I'm all twisted inside, my patient attempts in vain. My pride and shame color me in dark, dull hues.
OK, here's the deal. I fool myself every now and then thinking I might just be able to get thru to my X, that he might say to me, "You know Andrea, I'm sorry it went down like this. I'm sorry, I know it's hard, and I'll do whatever I can to try to make this easier for you."
Instead I get, "It's been 2 years Andrea. This happened 2 years ago."
And I feel like I'm going crazy shouting in my head saying, Are you fucking serious? Seriously? Really?
Him: Get over it.
Me: Fuck you. You have no idea.
Him: It was 2 years ago. Relax. Chill out.
Me: crying.
Me thinking: it's just like when he was drinking. He didn't understand he had a problem. I could see it. And it drove me mad knowing, just knowing I was right, that his drinking was not normal. I screamed it to him, shook him, yelled, cried, talked and talked and talked. Nothing worked. He didn't get that he had a problem... until finally one day, one day I locked the door and said no more. "You can't come home anymore." He spent the weekend away thinking our marriage was over. Our short marriage of one year (at the time). He has not drank since.
But this? Where's the pain for him? When he had to sober up, the pain was losing me. Now there's no pain. There's no consequences. There's just freedom. A closed door to the past with nothing to remind him of me except hate mail and text messages which he says, "Blows up his phone." A brick wall between the old life and this one.
Cut.
Stop right there.
That's insanity.
That's what I have to stay away from. The first one, when she comes to visit, I just have to tell her to go away. The second? I have to do whatever I can to distance myself, to not get tangled up in a series of long continuous shots of drama which when edited together create a psychological horror film.
OMG, for him to say I need to let it go, that it was two years ago ... Healing from a big loss takes time. A lot of time; it's a series of letting go. Most of which I've done already. I just get tangled up in stupid emotions and bewildered feelings. I get hooked.
That's the bad thing about D. When you have kids. It would be so much easier if Oliver were not involved. And much less painful.
* * * * *
I'm tired of this. I'm tired of climbing an uphill battle. I'm done trying to convince him of what he did and how hard it is for me still. I'm tired of how it's affected my job and how my job is now on the line. My company has been great, very patient. But even they are at the point where they are not willing to bend anymore and make exceptions for me. I need to perform, and not just perform but excel.
I simply cannot stay in this pit. There were quite a few things today that were difficult. I mentioned my job — a trifecta of mishaps happened recently which put me on unsteady ground. Then the whole Matt fiasco today. A series of them, the last of which had me in tears for the final hours before sunset. He's just too unsafe to talk to when it comes to any emotions. He takes it all the wrong way. He is defensive, not compassionate. Resentful. Judging. And you know, how can I blame him? It's how I used to be to him. Now I get back what I gave.
Lastly, the hardest hit was facing the gravity of my financial situation and the loss of my home. I haven't talked about it here on RP. Maybe once things are settled I can share a bit. My legal counsel would like me to keep a zipped lip. Just know that we may have to move in 9 months. We'll see. That puts me at a February move out. Nice.
There are going to be some changes in my life. I'm not sure what they
are yet. Maybe my social life. Maybe I need to stop running. Maybe it's
just time to focus on me, not others. I am not sure yet what has to
change, but after this evening's dramatic conclusions, I think I'm
locking that gorilla back into the cage and throwing away the key. I
think I'm done with everything in my life but my self, my job, my son,
my God. If I don't excel at work, I'll lose my job. I have to get even
tougher. Even stronger. I have to build up my shield and just be a big
girl. No more being mad at Matt. No more being nice either. No more
giving a shit about anything but the top items on my list:
God
Me
Oliver
Job
Lest I forget: Preparing for my future (saving $, getting rid of junk in case I have to move, getting my resume ready just in case...)
Go ahead, say some prayers if you like. I certainly need them. Thanks again for joining me on this journey, treacherous as it can be at times, difficult as it is for you to read. We both know it's not always like this. Dammit.
While the weekend was nice, it was not without its emotional challenges. I'm not who I was last year or the year before. I'm OK and living well. I'm stronger. And anything that is NOT like 2010 and 2011 is good, no matter how much I might hurt at times. It's true, there is nothing as bad as how I felt the last couple years. Need I say it again? I know people have it worse, way worse. Way WAY worse. And yet for me, that was my worse. The experiences were profound and perhaps it's how I'm wired — to be keenly aware of distress and to experience it as tho nothing else in the world exists. I felt hurt precisely and intensely, so much so that it rendered me useless, at least to my standards of what kind of woman and mother I wanted to be. Yet, I lived. I strove to get thru those days, and if I were to take stock, as I've done, as others have kindly done for me in my pathetic moments, I see that I'm a strong woman who faced adversity and made a great life for herself and her son. My God, there was not one day I spent in bed under the covers, even tho I wished could go under wraps and wake up to a perished nightmare.
The weekend in Door County at our quaint little cottage in the quaint little town of Gills Rock was fun. I had a few challenges which set me back reeling into the past, into emotions I did not want to succumb to. Best thing about this visit and the one this year prior is that I did not miss Matt, not one bit. That is a first for me. Last year, and of course the summer before, I thought about Matt incessantly whether I wanted to or not. Memories were crawling all over, of him... and us... and the family and how badly I wanted it all back... and how I wished I could change the past... and how I wished I could show him I "learned my lesson"... I could reach out and touch what I wanted; it was so real that I could smell it; I could taste it; I could hold it tightly in my arms. I imagined over and over again that he'd come riding up to the cottage with a reserved joy, hoping too, anticipating a healing of that severed limb. It never happened.
This year those dreams of my knight in a shining silver pick up truck are not in the forefront of my mind. I have no expectations. Those dreams are dead. They've been replaced, gladly, happily, with new ones. Better ones. Now I know I deserve more. I don't say better. I mean more. More than what I once had.
Thinking about Matt too much is not good for me. What is not good for me is not good for Oliver. Talking to Matt about anything related to "us" destroys any confidence and serenity that I have. He hasn't moved past this enough to not see the worst in me. He acknowledges changes in me, but he still reacts — strongly and without compassion — as if I am still the same woman. He thinks poorly of me. He thinks he knows me. He has little (no) compassion for me. He has little if any remorse, no pain from leaving, no guilt for what he's done. He surrounds himself with people who support his decisions, and he qualifies their support by his good feelings. Anything I have to say gets brushed to the side, and since I never liked his friends anyway (says he), my opinion of what they believe is easily dismissed. (BTW, the friends Matt chose lied to him, used him, made fun of him, yelled at him, belittled him. I'm in that awful place right now where I could name names and I could list the grievances, but I'm striving to stop this horrible space my head is in and gather up the good in my heart and hold onto that, not this ugly stuff.) I'm not in agreement with his friends who tell him he needs to be happy and toss the rest aside, that we'll be fine.
I guess I'm still bitter and angry, altho if you were to meet me in person and hang out with me, this subject rarely comes up. If you were to live in my head for a few weeks, you'd see how little I seethe over this. It's just that when I allow it to come to surface, I have ugly, bitter, hurtful emotions that I still need to deal with. Give me time. They will heal eventually. I look forward to that day.
Memorial Day weekend a few of these windy, twirling, gusty memories came right up to my face. The first one kindly tapped me on the shoulder, blew softly into my ear and said, "Remember me? Let me refresh your memory. You were married once, remember? Do you? Let me remind you how he hurt you. How he walked out. How he lied. How mean and unsympathetic he was. He betrayed you, not with another woman, but betrayed you by telling you he loved you and then never telling you when he was slipping away. He disappeared, you know? That guy? That guy you married? He left and instead you had someone else, he morphed into a callous person. You loved him and he betrayed you and your son. Tossed you aside like a used tissue. He closed the door to all you were, all he had with you. He doesn't look back. He walked away from everything... the marriage, the family, the home, the responsibilities, the things you bought together. The photos are left behind. Trashed actually. Do you know he threw your pictures, framed pictures, into the trash last weekend? Yep. Took 'em to the dump. And guess what? He's having fun now. Yep. Has a good life. A girl friend. Lots of sex. Lots of fun. Taking her out to dinners. Spending his evenings with her, on the couch, cuddled, watching movies. He's making her dinners, he's going places with her. He's kind to her, just like he used to be with you. You know that guy don't you? The one who was sweet on you? The one who is a good good guy? He's a good guy you know. And now someone else has him. And he thinks you are not worthy of loving. You're too.... whatever. Whatever it is that is yucky, well that is you."
Then there's the other visitor, even more dangerous that the last. This one is a gorilla. It's where I go into the cage, one more time, and dance with the gorilla. Silly girl. You know that beast will tear you down. You know he's not going to speak your language. You know he has ear plugs in and blind fold on.
He does not hear you.
He does not see you.
He does not understand you.
So quit fuckin' trying! Because, girl, you are going insane, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting THIS TIME it will be different.
He will hear me.
He will see me.
He will understand me.
Oops.
Nope.
He don't hear nothin'. He don't see it your way. He sees you as crazy, girl. You're crazy and you are just affirming his choice to leave you. He's not coming back. He'll never come back. He'll never understand what he did. He will never believe he did the wrong thing. He will never believe it hurts Oliver.... because someone told him that Oliver will be fine. And he will never understand how deeply you hurt.
So quit fuckin' trying. Damn girl. Let it go.
Oh my goodness. I fall into that trap, and recently have fallen into it 1000 times over; and yet I don't feel enough pain to stop my own madness. The color of madness. I'm mad. I'm all twisted inside, my patient attempts in vain. My pride and shame color me in dark, dull hues.
OK, here's the deal. I fool myself every now and then thinking I might just be able to get thru to my X, that he might say to me, "You know Andrea, I'm sorry it went down like this. I'm sorry, I know it's hard, and I'll do whatever I can to try to make this easier for you."
Instead I get, "It's been 2 years Andrea. This happened 2 years ago."
And I feel like I'm going crazy shouting in my head saying, Are you fucking serious? Seriously? Really?
Him: Get over it.
Me: Fuck you. You have no idea.
Him: It was 2 years ago. Relax. Chill out.
Me: crying.
Me thinking: it's just like when he was drinking. He didn't understand he had a problem. I could see it. And it drove me mad knowing, just knowing I was right, that his drinking was not normal. I screamed it to him, shook him, yelled, cried, talked and talked and talked. Nothing worked. He didn't get that he had a problem... until finally one day, one day I locked the door and said no more. "You can't come home anymore." He spent the weekend away thinking our marriage was over. Our short marriage of one year (at the time). He has not drank since.
But this? Where's the pain for him? When he had to sober up, the pain was losing me. Now there's no pain. There's no consequences. There's just freedom. A closed door to the past with nothing to remind him of me except hate mail and text messages which he says, "Blows up his phone." A brick wall between the old life and this one.
Cut.
Stop right there.
That's insanity.
That's what I have to stay away from. The first one, when she comes to visit, I just have to tell her to go away. The second? I have to do whatever I can to distance myself, to not get tangled up in a series of long continuous shots of drama which when edited together create a psychological horror film.
OMG, for him to say I need to let it go, that it was two years ago ... Healing from a big loss takes time. A lot of time; it's a series of letting go. Most of which I've done already. I just get tangled up in stupid emotions and bewildered feelings. I get hooked.
That's the bad thing about D. When you have kids. It would be so much easier if Oliver were not involved. And much less painful.
* * * * *
I'm tired of this. I'm tired of climbing an uphill battle. I'm done trying to convince him of what he did and how hard it is for me still. I'm tired of how it's affected my job and how my job is now on the line. My company has been great, very patient. But even they are at the point where they are not willing to bend anymore and make exceptions for me. I need to perform, and not just perform but excel.
I simply cannot stay in this pit. There were quite a few things today that were difficult. I mentioned my job — a trifecta of mishaps happened recently which put me on unsteady ground. Then the whole Matt fiasco today. A series of them, the last of which had me in tears for the final hours before sunset. He's just too unsafe to talk to when it comes to any emotions. He takes it all the wrong way. He is defensive, not compassionate. Resentful. Judging. And you know, how can I blame him? It's how I used to be to him. Now I get back what I gave.
Lastly, the hardest hit was facing the gravity of my financial situation and the loss of my home. I haven't talked about it here on RP. Maybe once things are settled I can share a bit. My legal counsel would like me to keep a zipped lip. Just know that we may have to move in 9 months. We'll see. That puts me at a February move out. Nice.
* * * * *
God
Me
Oliver
Job
Lest I forget: Preparing for my future (saving $, getting rid of junk in case I have to move, getting my resume ready just in case...)
Go ahead, say some prayers if you like. I certainly need them. Thanks again for joining me on this journey, treacherous as it can be at times, difficult as it is for you to read. We both know it's not always like this. Dammit.
He's not good to the other person. He is still married, right? So he dishonors the other woman. He's just getting a quick fix. The woman is a drug. The abuse he gives her will morph into something that will be very visible sooner than later. It is easy to spot. I saw it on your wedding day and again the day you opened presents. How others didn't see it then amazed me. Maybe working with drug addicts some 10 years in a psych unit helped me spot it. Don't you believe he is treating someone else nicer than you. He is a con artist, so it may not be obvious right away, but again, you will see it sooner or later. Hang in there and find someone good! signed...Anonymous
ReplyDeleteTotally agree with anonymous above. He is the same person, of the same character, as he was the day he left you and Oliver. What he has to offer another woman is heartbreak, even if it's masquerading behind fun and passion right now. You are wise to keep your thoughts and emotions FAR from that.
ReplyDeleteMaybe I have shared this quote with you before, but I love it.
“The reason people find it so hard to be happy is that they always see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is, and the future less resolved than it will be.”
Sending prayers your way. If you could only see how much more sound of mind and heart you are than him! Be thankful to be fighting the battles you are fighting, rather than running from them like him.