Is it January YET??

I hate the holidays.

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, but beyond that, there are NO holidays I enjoy.  Not my birthday, mother’s day, fourth of July, Christmas, Thanksgi…. you get the point.  The thing is, the indifference has changed into hatred of Thanksgiving and Christmas.  My husband celebrated Thanksgiving with his whore a week early while I was at a wedding.  The year that I was going to be be cooking at home, for the first time in 6+ years. So… there’s the fun thought of him celebrating and loving all over his slut while I was trudging 3 kids on a 4 hour each way trip, to see my cousin get married. Then, acting like he actually enjoyed the meal I made…and ate that meal with my parents. And of course, who can forget that he wrote her a freaking BOOK for her Christmas present.  She was his MUSE after all! He loved her and all she was to and for him.  He never wrote me a book, he wrote me a poem when we first started dating.  And he wrote me a few notes, because I made him.  She was so great for his creativity.  He wrote blogs to and about her.  She was just his everything.

And here is me.  His nothing.  His chains, his trap, his death, his downfall, his burden.  And I feel like I am all those things to him.  I don’t feel like he loves me, much less likes me.  And one of his big reasons for not writing things for or to me is because I didn’t read his book.  Guess how many of my blogs he has read…..  As many of his vows that he stayed true to!

It’s been a while

It’s been a long time since I have written.  Life has been busy, and like the dutiful wife I am, I have been taking care of it.  I try to go through each day and act like this strong, independent woman that, at the moment, I am pretending to be. I am not the person I thought I was.  I am much weaker, much needier, and much more unable than I ever thought I really was.  I always imagined that I would hold my ground and demand more respect than what I eventually did.

I met my husband when I was 17, almost 18. I sincerely knew when I met him that I was going to marry him.  We talked all the time about being faithful to each other, loving each other, and if anything ever changed, telling each other.  I trusted him.  With all of my heart.  If anything didn’t make sense, I overlooked it because there is no reason for me not to, he is my husband, my protector, the one that is supposed to forsake all others.  Our vows were “to live together in (holy) matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

None of those.

It’s amazing how any gaps in knowledge get filled in with your new found knowledge when something like this happens.  There were things in the past that felt not right, that made me wonder, that I always made ok.  He insists that everything was ok and that this is the only time, but I don’t think that is fully true.

Side note: I finally saw my GYN and got fully tested.  All clear, thank God.  I don’t know how I would have moved past that.

I live almost every day teetering between “How could he?” and “How DARE he?”  He was clearly ready to sacrifice his whole family to be with this girl.  He called her his savior and a savior is saving you from something, which in this case obviously is his horrible, terrible, miserable wife.  Who is clearly the worst. 

For so many years, he took from me. He was borderline emotionally abusive, for so, so many years. and years.  He took from me and took from me until I had nothing left to give any more.  And at that time, apparently I was no longer enough for him and he needed someone, something new.  He created this shell of a person who no longer had any value in myself and then when I was a beaten down corpse of what I once was, or could have been, he needed more.  I wasn’t paying enough attention to him, I wasn’t telling him how wonderful he was, and shocker, I wasn’t having sex with him.  So, he didn’t want to repair this person he had spent years demolishing, he just wanted to find a new girl who would be all the things he had drained from me.

All this time, I looked at it as my role in the family to take it.  He was the only one who was working and when I was working, it wasn’t enough to really contribute much to the family. (I am a stay at home mom, which was mutually agreed upon) My role was to make his life easier.  He was stressed, tired, cranky, mean, because work was over working him.  Or so I thought.  He yelled at me, he said mean things to me, and I took it.  Because he was tired, he was overworked, he was just trying to support our family.  This was my role. Make the dinner, take care of the kids, take the abuse, clean the home, wash the clothes, apologize for any imperfection, make life easy.  He’s working long hours, make sure he has dinner and clean clothes and a punching bag.  He’s going in to work early, let him fall asleep on the couch and make all the lunches on your own.  Explain to the kids that the reason you haven’t seen dad in 3 days is because he goes in so early and his mean boss keeps him so late. Do all the things that make his life easier.  That make his affair easier.  If only I had known.

I feel cheated for so many reasons.  I gave him the best years of my life.  I truly believed in the promise he made when we said our vows.  I had this image of what my marriage and my life would be at this point and this was not even close to what I yearned for.  I kept hoping and holding on to the idea that one day, when all the chaos of having 3 kids settled down, we would come back together and be us again.  There were, honestly, times that I hoped that he was cheating and I would find out, so I could kick him out, get child support and alimony, and live my damn life.  But, when it came down to it all, I crumbled, like a stale, old cookie.

I don’t feel like I will ever feel loved. I feel like I have sacrificed my life to an existence of not being loved.  My failures surround me, and remind me, of my worthlessness.  I am no worthy of love or care or compassion.  I will continue to sacrifice myself to the benefit of my family.  I will lose out and do without, so that my loved ones will feel and be loved.

I feel like I am the only person like me in existence. I don’t think that anyone will ever love me in the same way that I love others.  And all I want, more than anything in life, is to just feel like somebody loves me.

I think that is just one more thing I need to give up on in life.

WTF??

I am away.  And previously, that was the time that my husband would spend with his AP. (Still haven’t settled on a title for her)  When I went out of town for a funeral, a wedding, a holiday, and a visit or two to my parents house.  Honestly, the funeral is the worst for me.  I may have covered this in a previous blog, but I am not sure.  My uncle died.  It was incredibly unexpected and hit me hard.  I had another uncle die, then my grandpa died, then this uncle died.  Both uncles were unexpected, but the second was very much so.  I held guilt because I had not seen him when I had a chance to, close to his passing. He was stubborn and private and in a condition that he didn’t want people to know about.  He asked my Grandma not to tell me that he was in a physical rehab center, because of what brought him there.  I did not want to cause turbulence between my uncle and Grandma and therefore, I did not go visit him on the trip.  Not too long after, he passed away, in the rehab center he was in.  I was so devastated.  I still am.  I found a card recently that my parents sent me (which I need to clarify is my dad and step-mom because this was my birth mother’s brother) with condolences and happy thoughts of my uncle’s good life lived.  The memory of his death is muddied with the knowledge that my husband’s girlfriend saw it as so fortuitous.  My uncle died and she celebrated my time away so that she could see my husband.  My husband KNEW how shattered I was by the loss and still he went to her instead of spending his time worrying about my mental well being.  I had, and HAVE still, so much guilt about not seeing my uncle when I had the opportunity.  I am crying as I write this.  I didn’t go see him.  I should have.

And yet, this guilt and mourning are overtaken by the thought of my husband, who should care for me above all others, running off to his girlfriend’s place and making things right with her and reassuring her of his commitment to her. (apparently she was upset that he wasn’t spending enough time with her)

Then there was the wedding.  My cousin got married close to a holiday (which one will reveal far too much I am afraid) and my husband celebrated the holiday early with his AP.  Because they are so happy and comfortable with each other and can be so silly with one another and it’s a time he will never forget.  At least that is what he wrote to her about it after it happened.  Yeah, she posted his messages to her on her facebook page before she committed suicide.  And I find it so completely tragic that she didn’t find more worth in herself than her relationship with someone who was married. (this sounds sarcastic as I read it back and it is not, at all)  I wish she didn’t make the final decision she made.  But I also wish that the pictures, text messages, and other various writings were not still available for our children to happen upon one day.

And of course we cannot forget the holidays.  I went out of town to visit family on the major holidays and he went and visited his AP.  I don’t really know how often he was at her place or how much time he really spent with her, but I do know he had a key to her apartment and spent plenty of time with her when I thought he was at work or when I just plain didn’t know where he was.

So, I say all that to get the thoughts out of my head.  Wondering who he is talking to, what he is doing, what his plan is, what his goals are, what he really wants from our marriage, why does he care now when he clearly didn’t before.

Is this just the easy way out?  This way he doesn’t have to tell family and friends that we are divorcing because he cheated, twice, one time worse than the other.  This way he doesn’t have to explain to the kids that he loved someone else more than all of us.  This way he doesn’t have to face what he did unless I bring it up.  He has no real punishment in this.  The punishment is all mine to bear.  He doesn’t experience the fear, insecurity, doubt, pain, suffering, self loathing, self hate, questioning, etc, that I do.  He KNOWS he could find someone else.  He knows he is good enough, not only for me, but for another woman.  He has no unsteady footing when it comes to knowing that someone can and will love him.  I am unloveable.  Not only did my husband not love me, but he rejected me and chose someone else.

I don’t know where I am going with this blog and I don’t know what I am trying to get out tonight.  I know that I am away, for the first time since D-Day and I am experiencing feelings of panic and doubt and insecurity, and I hate every second of it.  I didn’t do anything to deserve this.  I don’t want this and I didn’t ask for this, but this is my new life. This is who I am now.  And I hate who I have become.  I am a little child looking for the approval and reassurance of someone who has more power and more control over me.  And I hate it. He cheated on me and I all but begged him to stay.  Why do I not value myself more?  Why can’t I stand up for myself more?

I have told my husband for years and years (double digits here) that I was unhappy and that I needed more from him. And his response was always that he was fine.  My feelings didn’t matter while I was crying out to him for help.  And then he says I wasn’t paying him enough attention and he needed it from someone else.  When do I get my attention? When do I get what I have been begging for all this time?  When do I get to feel like someone loves me with their whole soul, their whole being? So much that when I am sad or down they would do whatever it takes to help me?

I helped my husband cheat on me, without knowing of course.  He was working “long hours” and was so tired when he came home that he would fall asleep on the couch as soon as he finished dinner.  I told the kids he was stressed from work when he was cranky.  I explained away his long hours when my daughter asked me why she hadn’t seen daddy in 3 days.  I made him dinner, (which he refused regularly) for when he came home late after we all already ate. I made sure he had clean clothes and tried my best for a clean house.  I didn’t iron his clothes and for some insanely stupid reason, I have guilt over that, too.

Anyway, I am babbling and getting all off track on everything I am writing here.  I have no focus and I am full of fear and I am hating what my life has become.  I just want to find my true self again.  I think I was a pretty good person.  I miss me.  I wish someone else missed me as much as I miss myself.

Value

I hate the way I fumble for words so often.

I want to write.  I want to talk about how I’m feeling, but I sound stupid.  I’ve read back over some of my previous blogs and I want to rewrite them or take them down.

I want to write about so many things, but my words fail me.  I want to write about how lonely I was for so many years.  I want to write about when I told him that I was lonely, when I told him I was unhappy, when I tried to tell him that I needed more from him.  But, the ability to write about these things with any eloquence at all escapes me.

I feel more frustrated than anything.  And today I am already angry.

I place too much of my own value in how the people I love feel about me.  I need the people I love to love me back and value me.  When I don’t feel love, I don’t value myself.

I guess I need to work on that.