Good Lord, I don't know where I'm at. I have good days and bad days. Tonight is a bad night. I'm filled with doubts and misgivings. I've made my decisions and I'm headed for divorce, but the road sucks.
I bitch and moan, but basically my husband is a good man. He has only two faults (I wish mine were limited to two), procrastination and drinking. I can live with the procrastination, but the drinking has taken me over the edge. He's not a mean drunk, he waxes philosophical. But the decisions he makes while drinking leaves me vulnerable. In our discussions, he want's to blame himself, but if I am honest, it's half my fault.
I grew up in an alcoholic household. He felt comfortable. Plus, I was stupid...after all the meetings I've attended, i.e. adult children of Alcoholics, etc. I knew I shouldn't have married him. I wanted to believe he'd change for a family. I wanted to believe I could change him...my love could change him. He never pretended to be anything he wasn't. When we talk he says that he could change for me. I remind him that he hasn't in the past so why now? I also ask him why? Why should you, when you never pretended to be anything that you weren't? Why shouldn't someone love you for who you are...faults and all.
That's what scares me so. Will someone love me for who I am, faults and all? I know my "soon to be ex-husband" loves me. Will someone love me in the future, or will I be alone due to my choices. I'm really trying to hold on till vacation cuz it's been such a difficult year. I lost a mentor, a family friend, my MIL, who loves me better than my mother does, now a husband. How much more can I really take?
Everyone always asks me..."How's Norman (the husband)?" How's Ken (the FIL)?" No one asks about me (well, Nola and my fellow bloggers do), but the people that surround me don't. They know I'm the strong one, that I make the decisions, that I'm the "go-to-girl" but how much longer can I be that before I snap? How strong am I really? So, nights like these, the doubts creep in, and I no longer believe I'm Super Woman. I curl up in the fetal position under a blanket, drink tequila and tell myself that I'll feel differently in the morning. That I'll wake up and do what I have to do, do my job, take care of the house, smile and pretend that everything is ok.
No one thinks that I'm mourning for my MIL. That I walk into her knitting room and my breath is taken away by all the projects that are not completed by her. That I lift a beautiful pink and white jacket that she knitted and hold it close and wish that she was still here. My fingers trace the outline of the unfinished threads in blankets that will never keep my soul warm. My hands pick up the jewelry that she left behind and wonder what to do with it. Do I wear it in her honor? Who can I give it to that will appreciate it? Do I let the sunlight never hit it, hidden away in jewelry boxes that don't tell the opener of her life, her accomplishments or the thoughts she was thinking when she put them in there?
I'm restricting my drinking to the weekends, but I worry that something won't be enough. I'm worried that I'm going to let some detail important to my projects at work slip, I'm worried that someone will say something at work that will set me off, and I'll let all the pent up rage, frustration, guilt and whatever else is there fly out in a violent stream of four-letter words that I can't take back. Can I hold on till October 1st? Can I click my heels together 3 times and suddenly be on vacation? Will I be ok? Will I be loved and will I love again? I don't know.
I do know that I'm a survivor. That I've survived a lot of really shitty things in my life and that I'll survive this. That others have survived worse than I have, and if they can do it, I can. But what is the cost?
I'm sorry. Tomorrow, I'll suck it up and get off my pity-pot. Tonight...well, we'll see.
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