Feelings, woh feelings...

I guess this could fall under the category of PMS.  I just feel shitty and cranky and bitchy.  I got my hair relaxed.  It was about 2 years ago I made the decision to stop using chemicals to alter my hair and just let it be natural.  It didn't go the way I thought it would and I was sick of it so I went and spent $80 I really couldn't afford and got my hair relaxed and cut into a simple short style.  I'm like 90% happy with my look which is probably the best I can expect.  My beloved seems to like it as well.  We were supposed to go to NYC this weekend for a belated birthday getaway but his ghetto ass job messed up his check AGAIN.  He got his regular pay last week but he was also due an additional check for all the side work he does but they shorted him, who actually knows when they'll pay him what they owe him.  I'm so fucking angry and disappointed but I can't say anything because it will just make him feel bad.  It was his birthday present to me and I was really REALLY looking forward to it.  I requested the whole weekend off, I got my parents to watch the kids for us.  I needed this getaway,  WE needed this.  But I can't let on how I really feel.  That's kind of a defining characteristic of my life as a wife these days.  Being angry, scared, disappointed, hurt or whatever and not being able to express it because it will make HIM feel bad.  He asks me how I feel but all I'm really allowed to say is that I'm okay.  Anything else would make him feel guilty, more guilty than he says he feels.  Making him feel bad makes me feel like the shittiest person ever, even when he technically deserves to feel bad because of his actions.

How can I describe what it's like to live with someone who tries really hard to do the right thing 75% of the time but then with that remaining 25% behaves like an absolute shameless bastard?  I'm not talking about basic personality flaws, bad habits and annoying idiosyncrasies; I'm talking about intentional, calculated betrayals and deceptions.  Complete lack of regard for the feelings of those he claimed to love and care for above all else.  Actually plotting and scheming.  Makes that 25% seem fucking huge.  Yet, that 75% is so convincing, so sincere, so contrite.  I hate this hopeless trapped feeling because I don't have an option that won't be painful on some level.  The way I'm feeling right now is unpleasant and I honestly have to say I'm not happy.  However, I know if I tried to divorce him that would be like being burned alive.  I know from experience.  My husband was a rat bastard son of a bitch when he found out I had filed.  That 75% good guy crumbled down to a pile of nothing and he was like a stranger, but worse.  He was horrible to me, while I was pregnant!  Pregnant.  But he didn't care about what happened to me.  He only cared about covering his own ass and punishing me for daring to finally stand up for myself.  Vindictive prick.  Just thinking that he could have been like that to me, especially when it was his actions that caused all the drama, it's almost too much to bear.  And to know that most likely that is how he would be again.  See my beloved doesn't lose.  Even if it means playing dirty, cheating, ruining me.  That's who I sleep with every night.  That's supposedly my partner, my best friend.  That nigga would have slit my throat (figuratively) if it came down to it. 

But now in the aftermath, he seems to be saying and doing everything right.  He seems to be trying so hard.  He seems like he wants to make me happy, like he wants us to be happy with each other.  I just don't fucking trust him.  I want to trust him.  I love him.  He has hurt me beyond anything I thought I could endure, left scars on my heart that will never fade.  I thought no one would ever cause me to shed as many tears as Travis.  Unfortunately the only man I ever loved more than Travis wounded me far worse than Travis could have even if he tried.  Travis was just your run of the mill asshole.  Falling in love with him was immature and looking back I can see all the red flags and know without a doubt how I could have avoided that train wreck with some basic common sense.  My beloved, however, was different.  Look at him from almost any angle and there wasn't much one could have done to anticipate the devil hiding behind those angel eyes.  So many times over the last couple years I looked at him and wondered, "who the hell are you?" I wonder if I'll ever know.  I can't live with that.

And now we sit here at the kitchen table, typing away on our laptops acting like it's all good.  What happens in his mind?  How does he walk around so unaware, oblivious to the pain that swirls around me heart daily.  He asks me, "What's wrong?" Like he really doesn't know.  The other night, I was overwhelmed with grief.  I went up into our room and closed the door and just began sobbing.  This time of year is particularly difficult for me because so much got started in the fall seasons of our marriage.  As a child I would always get depressed in the fall, partially because the days got shorter and the lack of sunlight made my moods swing low.  Also because this was usually progress report time and I was usually doing terribly in at least a couple of my classes so being grounded was just around the corner.  As an adult, as a married woman, October 2013 is when my husband started his affair with his 25 year old coworker.  An affair that continued for over a year on and off and resulted in the birth of a child.  Christ in heaven.  Sometimes I wonder if I had been better of to just go ahead with the damn divorce.  Would that have been any less painful?  Would I have felt any relief?  No.  No.  There is no scenario that I can imagine that this wouldn't have been heart-wrenching.  In every possible version the facts remain the same.  My husband had an affair, not his first affair by the way.  He contemplated leaving me, humiliated me by carrying on that affair at his job so that many of his coworkers knew about it.  His brother, his friends knew about it.  He took his mistress to his parents house where his father knew what they were doing and permitted it to take place under his roof.  He didn't even have enough care  or consideration for me to use a FUCKING CONDOM YOU RAT BASTARD.  Emotional vomit.  Anger spewing out of me.  So much anger, so much pain.  All of things are my reality whether married or divorced.  Trying to put the pieces of my heart back together, knowing I'll never be the same, that is my unrelenting reality, regardless of which road I took.  The only difference, divorce him.  Go it alone, be a single mom to 2 small children while he goes off with his whore or whatever other stupid female he could run game on.  Or stay married and spend the rest of my life tortured by mistrust.

This year we will celebrate our 5 year anniversary.  That is special, or should have been because we got married at the courthouse.  My father wasn't there. Neither of our sons were there.  We didn't have a honeymoon, nothing.  We weren't ever living together.  We promised ourselves that for our 5 year anniversary we would renew our vows and have the ceremony/reception we had to skip the first time.  That's not going to happen.  I don't know if he even cares.  He doesn't act like it.  Doesn't acknowledge it.  He never acknowledges anything.  Then he plays dumb and acts confused when I get upset.  Like, "Oh, you wanted to do that thing we said we were going to do?" No fuckface, don't be silly.  This time last year you were hiding your whore's pregnancy, now you're acting like nothing happened and you're confused as to why I'm sad.  I found out she was pregnant actually on our 4 year anniversary. Yea.  We had gone out to celebrate that weekend.  He posted on Facebook this really sweet status about how much he loved me and how I challenged him to be a better man.  You fucking liar.  This time last year he was also reaching out to his ex-fiance, flirting with her, reminiscing about their sex life all the while telling her how unhappy he'd been during the course of our marriage.  She told him that she still believed he was the father of her son.  He cut off contact with her and never said anything to me about it.   How do I know this?  Because when she got sick of him dodging her she contacted me directly.  This is the man who looks at me and asks, "What's wrong?" The fuck you think is wrong?!

Whatever stuff

Waiting for the bus to work.  I missed the 11:07 bus that gets me there an hour early, so instead I’m catching the 12:07 bus that gets me there 15 minutes late.  I should care more than I do, the thing about retail and specifically the store I work for is that they are very flexible.  People come late and leave early all the time and no one really cares, unless it’s excessive and inconveniences others.  I know if I get this new job I’ll be back in corporate America and they are not at all flexible about that kind of thing. I better be an hour early and like it.  My contact, the friend and former coworker who referred me says there is still a chance I’ll get the job even though it’s been over 3 weeks and still haven’t heard anything.  The training classes are set to start on October 5^th or at least that’s what I was told during the interview.  My friend says one of the trainers was recently fired which means the date of the classes might get pushed back.  The reason I’m worried about that is because I want to be able to give my manager at least 2 weeks notice before I leave.  I know it will be difficult for them to cover the schedule if I leave, especially since one of our part time girls recently confessed to me that she wants to find another job and would likely be leaving at some point.  That would leave the lab a manager with one part time guy whose not really trained and one other part time girl who is fully trained but is also crosses trained to work on the sales floor so might not be able to cover all the hours that would be open.  I really want to tell J--- and B---- that I’m leaving sooner so they can have time to get someone hired and at least half way trained but I can’t take the chance that they hire someone to replace me and then I don’t get this new job.  I know I’ll feel like an ass but I have to do what’s right for my family.  I need to have my nights and weekends back.  And this job is literally a 5 minute drive from my house.  Hell, I could walk there if I really needed to.  I won’t have the car anymore if I take this job.  Ron will get Nathaniel up with him in the morning, drive him to Terrea’s house and then drive to work.  I’ll walk Elizabeth to daycare in the morning and then hop on the bus.  This will be how it works at least for the next 6 months until Nathaniel turns 1 year old. Then he’ll be able to join Elizabeth at her daycare.  At that point I don’t know if Ronald will continue taking the car and I’ll go back to getting both kids  up and out the door every damn morning.  Up to this point I’ve accepted being responsible for the kids because at least I had the car and he had to get up extra early and take a bus, a train and the el.  I’m sitting here on the grass under a tree waiting for the bus.  It’s unfortunate most of the bus stops around here don’t have any shelter or shade. You’re completely exposed to the elements.  That is going to be a problem for me at some point.  I think I should be able to keep the car during the winter months if I’m going to have the kids.  We’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. 

I have to close tonight.  Crossing my fingers that it’s slow.  I know that sounds so lazy, I’m just not in the mood to do any real work.  I’m such a bum. Lol  It just irks me that they schedule me to work by myself so often.  B---- will be there today until 5 or 5:30.  I like Bryan, he’s interesting.  Reminds me of the kind of guy I would have been friends with in high school.  Sitting with my legs crossed like this is starting the make my knees sore.  Geez, my knees are atrocious.  So this is how it feels to get old.  I don’t like it. 

At work now, taking my dinner break. I hate my job today.  I find myself liking it less and less over the last couple of weeks.  There are aspects of it that I honestly enjoy my immediate managers and supervisors are good guys, easy to get along with.  Most of my coworkers are tolerable and most days things go pretty smoothly.  There is just an attitude that permeates this company that I can’t stand.  I’m not sure how to describe it without going on for a paragraph and since I had to wait in line at Chick-fil-a for half my break I don’t have the luxury of time on my side.  Wouldn’t it be cool to get paid to write?  To be able to support myself and my family just using my own creativity and imagination.  To communicate on a level and be able to reach people in a way that was so significant, so profound that they would pay me.  Getting paid to think and share my thoughts wih the world.  How awesome would that be?  Up until this point I thought my success would be in a work of fiction.  A narrative story; put perhaps there’s more inside.  Perhaps that has been the reason for my writer’s block.  I was trying to write the wrong thing.  I’ve thought about writing down my thoughts about religion and politics, racism in America.  Really heavy stuff.   I have a lot of thoughts but when I think of actually putting them on paper I shy away.  I’m not a political science professor or attorney, I don’t have any of the background or credentials that people expect.  I’m not Hollywood entertainer with a huge following who can get people’s attention just because of their celebrity.  Hell, I didn’t even finish college.  Why the heck would anyone care what I have to say?  But yet I feel it burning inside me.  Can I get it out?  Can I tell you what I really think?  Uh oh, breaks over.

Mistrust vs Unforgiveness

Monday, September 14, 2015

Didn't take lunch today, no overlapping coverage and by the time I was actually ready we had too many jobs working for me to stop.  So I skipped lunch and just clocked out a half hour early. I’m still sitting in the break room eating what I guess is technically dinner since it’s after 5pm.  Leftovers from the potluck we had on Saturday, the same thing I had for breakfast.  My beloved stayed home today so he has the car so I’m just sitting around waiting to get picked up.

This morning I woke up feeling a combination of sadness, frustration and despair.  I dreamed about my husband cheating again.  Catching him in the act. Him first denying the accusations and then blaming his actions on my inability to satisfy his needs.  It’s difficult for me as I try to move forward with my marriage because even though I am committed to forgiving him, I am unable to trust him.  Almost everything I know about his various infidelities I discovered on my own.  Either by my own investigation or by third parties bringing information to my attention; some things were just a matter of my own intuition leading me to conclusions that ended up being spot on.  Only about 1% of the facts were volunteered by my beloved and most of that 1% came after much plying and peeling away layers of deception.  Each time we would have what was supposed to be an open honest discussion establishing a clean slate, I would find out in a matter of days or weeks that he had again lied to me and there was more to the story.  So it stands to reason that if there were any further offenses I could not count on him to be forthcoming and just confess, no, I would have to wait for any further betrayals to be be revealed in the same fashion.  Therefore, our foundation is shaky at best.  Still each day I try to move forward, try to focus on the positive, take him at his word.  Unfortunately the rope that’s holding us together has been unraveled so severely that almost anything causes me to slip back into fear and anxiety.  Even just a dream.  This next confession is going to seem suspiciously spooky but it’s 100% true.  I dreamed about his infidelity.  I had multiple dreams about it over the course of months and almost everything I dreamed ended up happening in one way or another.  I spent so many nights crying in my sleep, experience heart wrenching betrayals over and over, knowing in the center of my being that what my unconscious mind was showing me was a glimpse of what my conscious eyes were unable to view.

I am unable to find peace.  Not because of unforgiveness but because of mistrust.  I can forgive what I already know he did, but I am terrified that I am walking into more hurt.  So many things raise red flags in my mind. Things that once seemed innocent now set off alarms in my heart.  HE’S UP TO SOMETHING.  HE’S UP TO SOMETHING. HE’S UP TO SOMETHING. BEWARE. BEWARE. WARNING!!!!!  How do I move past that? My intuition was spot on every time, every time he lied, in my heart  I knew the truth, but somehow now I’m supposed to ignore my intuition? How?  And better question, why should I?

Yet somehow, a little bit at a time I feel like I am starting to trust him, or at least be less suspicious.  Sometimes I look at him and how hard he really does seem to be trying and I feel a little bit of my guard letting down.  Or at least I feel apprehension when I feel the anger rise up in me from time to time.  I see him, looking all pitiful.  I don’t want to be a fool, yet I want to believe him.  I want my life to make sense again. I want to be at peace.  I want to make love without cringing inside every time I get a vision of him touching her.  I want to look at our children without thinking about the child he made with his mistress, or the son in Atlanta that he’s been denying for the last seven years.  I want to be able to hear him say he loves me without recalling the months he contemplated leaving me for his mistress and wondering if he could be capable of that level of deception again.  I can accept that he did it, I just wonder if he could do it again. 

Career Inopportunities

September 12, 2015

Potluck at work today in honor of Diamond Day. Some promotional bullshit corporate made up, I couldn’t care less.  I was supposed to make chicken wings but we went out last night for my birthday and my stepson had a football game this morning so I went to Acme and bought some roasted chicken and just passed it off as my own.  Our regional manager stopped by to cheer us on.  When I first met her I really liked her, she had great positive energy and that was refreshing.  These days she just seems fake and annoying.  I can only stand being around her for a little while before I have to get away.  I suspect at times even she is aware of how plastic she is. 

Anyway, I feel like I’m getting back into the habit of writing on a somewhat regular basis.  I think maybe that’s why I’ve been experiencing creativity blocks when I try to write.  I’m so out of practice.  Getting thoughts out of my head, organizing them and writing them down.  I need to write a novel.  I need to write for a living.  I need to freelance or something because I’m sick of working for someone else.  Tired of the corporate politics and bullshit.  Tired of my success being dependent on another person doing something.  I want to live off my own creativity and talent.  I’m tired of trying to make my square peg fit in a world of round holes.  At previous points in my life I felt different.  I thought that entrepreneurship wasn’t for me.  I was happy learning how to do a job and working hard for someone else.  I thought, “Let that person be responsible for the risk.  I’ll just play my role, earn my check and go home.” The problem with that is you’re forever at the mercy of that person or entity.  I hate working for another person.  I guess that’s the first step.  I don’t want to do this anymore.  I don’t want to have a job anymore.  I want a career; a purpose.  I hate that I’m doing a job that any 19 year old high school graduate could learn to do over a summer break.  Sure, I have picked up a lot of knowledge about this industry and I guess I do like what I do, insomuch that I don’t hate it.  But it’s not helping me develop my talents or grow in my natural abilities.  It’s just a job.  I’m 37 years old.  I don’t want a job.  I've had jobs since I was 15.  I work with people who have been doing this for 15-20 years.  Oh my God, if I’m still doing this in my 50s just shoot me.  Seriously.

Last night my beloved took me to Red Lobster for my birthday.  We had the kids with us and that was nice.  I love my babies, I love to see him play with them.  I love my family.  I have to make myself focus on that and not let my mind wander to all the externals.

It's my birthday

Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade.
Masquerade!
Hide your face so the world will never find you.
Masquerade!
Every face a different shade.
Masquerade!
Look around, there's another mask behind you.

Birthdays and other such nonsense

September 10, 2015

At work again, lunch break.  This seems to be the only time I can carve out to write.  I was off yesterday, home with my little monster all day.  Didn’t get much done, didn’t even really get to nap because I was focused on him all day.  Well him and TV but I can usually get stuff done while I watch television but not while I’m holding him.  I have aMoby wrap which I actually like but the AC is still broken so going around with him strapped to me with all that fabric is not an option because the house is just too damn hot.  I managed to straighten up a little here and there, threw in a load of laundry but for the most part I sat on the catch with little man all day watching whatever.  I had intended to be out and about for at least the first part of the day.  I needed to go to my job because I left my debit card in my lab coat and from there I was headed to my Momma’s house to get her BJs card so I could get some formula and other essentials. Problem was I didn’t have any gas, definitely not enough to get all the way to my job and then to the gas station.  I was reluctant to transfer money to the joint account that I do have a debit card for.  I ended up doing that anyway several hours later.  Not sure why I waited to so long.  Around 5pm I gathered little man and myself up, picked up the girl and finally went to run my errands.

Tomorrow is my birthday.  I’ll be 37 years old.  Not quite sure how I feel about that.  I’ve always loved my birthday but I’m at a point that I’m kind of indifferent.  Maybe I’ll care when I turn 40.  I am painfully aware of my age.  The number of years I’ve been on this earth troubles me only in light of how little I feel I’ve accomplished.  I have 3 awesome children whom I love with all my heart but their existence was really more good fortune than an actual accomplishment.  True, my oldest is in college and doing well by most accounts, still I don’t feel I can take credit for that.  His success in life is more of a blessing from God than a human achievement, at least from my perspective.  I know I made more than enough mistakes raising him to have ruined him completely.  It has been God’s grace and mercy keeping both of us. 

So I’m scheduled to work on my birthday, even though it falls on a Friday.  I’m working the next day too.  Eh, I just didn’t feel it required any time off.  The husband is planning to taking me to NYC at the beginning of October for a weekend getaway in honor of my birthday.  We just need to find someone to watch our kids for 3 days.  Easier said than done, but my beloved doesn’t think about that sort of thing.  Of course he’s used to having someone else be responsible for his children.  He’s a good Dad to the children he has with me, but he is gone a lot because of his job and even when he's home he's often still working.  He’s only had physical custody of his oldest son for the last 3 years; he has 2 other children that don’t live with him; one he only sees every other weekend and the other he’s never even met.  I suppose that is harsh, but I can’t take it back, it’s true.  He’s been a part time dad most of his life and even though he tries his best, he has a disturbing ability to be separated from his children for long periods of time, leaving them in the care of others without feeling bad?  I’m not sure how to describe it.  It just seems to me that most full time parents of small children have an instinct to be present with their kids as much as possible and if too much time goes by it’s a problem.  It’s not like that for my husband.  He’s totally fine leaving his kids for extended periods with other people while he pursues his own interests.  And he totally expects that other people will just be okay caring for them while he's off doing whatever.  Not that he doesn’t miss them or want to be with them, he’s just not as affected by being absent.  He only had to be a weekend dad for so long, and he had the freedom to dip off for weeks at a time and it was fine because his "baby's mother" was doing all the heavy lifting.  As a dad as long as he came around on a somewhat regular basis and paid child support he was a "good dad". It's like that for a guy. The mom does most of the work, makes all the sacrifices and deals with the everyday, monotonous routine that is parenting, but parttime dads get to show up when it's convenient for them, spend a few hours every other weekend playing the role and everyone is impressed. Smdh.

Baby Boy

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

At work, my little 30 minute lunch break.  Don’t remember what time I clocked out or how long I’ve been clocked out.  I’ll probably be late clocking back in, sadly I don’t care.  At least not as much as I should.  It’s not that I don’t like my job, I guess I do, there are aspects of it that are kind of cool.  I like my coworkers most days.  I got unofficially demoted while I was on maternity leave in a rather shady fashion but if I’m honest I don’t really want the responsibilities of being the lab manager anyway.  Bryan is a nice guy and he has a lot more experience than I do, I can learn from him.  I didn’t get a reduction in pay and I’m still getting full time hours so I guess it worked out pretty sweet.  The only reason I’m looking to leave is because of the hours.  I’ve been working retail for 4 years now and frankly I want my nights and weekends back.  My husband’s job is so demanding, one of us needs to have a standard routine schedule.  We have 2 little kids and one obnoxious teenager living in our house, so organization is essential to making this work.

I drove my oldest baby up to college this past weekend.  I cried a little, but I’m mostly happy.  I know how much he wanted to get away, especially after all the drama of the last year.  He really moved away at the end of May, the last day of school he packed up everything he could into my mother’s car and hauled ass out of my home. It wasn’t me he was running away from but rather the drama that had taken over my home as a result of my husband actions.  My house had become downright insufferable for my son, he toughed out those last couple months but I knew that when I let my husband move back home I had inadvertently accelerated my son’s departure.  So fast-forward to this past weekend, I had already cried so much over these last months I guess there wasn’t much left.  I got a little misty a couple times but at this point I guess I was feeling the same sense of relief that he was.  Not relief that he was gone, I will always want my baby boy near me, rather relief that he had finally gotten enough distance from a situation that had caused him so much pain.

At this point I just pray that he is successful.  I’m trying to determine how much I should contact him.  I want him to know I care and that I’m thinking about him but I don’t want to be a bug.  He’s very independent, not a mushy kind of kid.  He and I have good communication but we’re not really touchy feely if you know what I mean.  We can talk and joke but don’t get into feelings a lot.  I do tell him I love him sometimes.  Occasionally he’ll say it back.  My hana hoona apple dumpling pie head.  The first time I ever remember loving anyone so much that nothing else mattered.  

Love

Love.  People like to write songs about it. It's one of those things that sounds like a great idea, sounds like fun, like a grand adventure. We wish for it, hope for it, pray for it. We think that if we're good and patient like little kids waiting for Christmas that love will show up like presents from Santa Claus under the tree.

I think I'm drunk. Double shot of Jack and 3 Heinekens. Lightweight, I know. I'm laid out on the lawn of the Courtyard Marriott. It's chilly but I don't want to go inside. I really wanted to smoke some weed but the job I'm trying to get is going to drug test me so I have to stay clean for at least the next couple weeks.

I'm not gonna cry. I could cry. If I allowed it I could find myself sprawled out on this lawn sobbing like my dog just died, but I won't. Instead I will hide behind giggles and mindless chatter because that is what you do when your heart has been ripped out, broken, shattered, stomped, lit on fire and buried under a pile of shit and there's nothing you can do about it. You still have to go on living because there are people counting on you. People who rely on you, so you put on the face and you hold it together.

Write It Down Stupid Girl

The other day I had a thought, the beginning of a thought.  Like a moment of inspiration that probably could have led to something interesting.  I said to myself inside my head, "Dumb bitch, take a minute and write that down.  Grab the laptop or at least a notebook and record this shit before you forget it."  But I didn't because I am a stupid girl, so now I can't remember it.  Something about Sade and Adele.  Their music so goddamn sad and sultry.  Their music is the melodic equivalent of what was once my best writings.  Not to assert that I match either of their talents, not even close, at least not yet.  But the way that music makes me feel, miserable, alone, desperate, longing, that in your bones ache that can only be filled by the one you lost.  Or the one you can never have.


Proving to the gods of love that I'm worthy.  Proving to gods of love that I'm up for it, that I'm equal to the challenge.  Preparing to be the Rhonda Rousey of love.  Knocked down. Hard.
But.
Not.
Out.

Getting up kicking and swinging, fixing to fuck somebody up.

Somewhat Less Angry, No Less Wounded

So, I may have given the impression lo' these last few posts that my husband is an irredeemable hopeless asshole, devoid of virtue or conscious.  While it's true there have been moments in the not too distant past that I did feel that way, wholeheartedly, the regrettable truth is that I love him.  In my naive heart I believe that behind all the terrible decisions driven by stupidity, selfishness, insecurity and a fragile ego, he is... a good man.  I hate that.  Almost every day, sometimes multiple times throughout the day I feel hostility towards him rising up in me like acid reflux and I have to beat in down so I can function.  I have to battle against the undeniable urge to call him a liar or a piece of shit, punch him in the face and/or push him down a flight of stairs.  I have to force myself to let him touch me and will myself to enjoy it on some level, even though all the while in my head I am subjected to imaginations of him touching her.  When he whispers his pillow talk I get flashes of him saying those same things to her.  It's like in Clockwork Orange when the guy has eyes wired open and is forced to view horrible scenes of violence and human misery.  That's what my brain does to me.  Except instead of torture and murder, by mind shows me scenes of my husband romancing and fucking other women.  I see his twisted smile, I hear their moans of ecstasy.  I have dreams.  The sames dreams I had a year ago.  The same dreams I've had almost the entire time I've been married to him.  Vivid, heart-wrenching dreams of him saying the cruelest things to me.  I dreamed of his betrayal many times over.  I knew how it would feel long before I ever felt it because something inside me sensed it coming.  I spent countless nights in unconscious despair, sobbing over shadows of future aching.  Sleeping next to the person who loved me to my face while sharpening the knife behind my back.  "Cruel tongue tear souls like steel tipped whips..."

I know we say that no one is perfect and to truly you love someone you have to accept their good and their bad.  Marriage as an institution aggressively tests that theory.  It's one thing to love and support a child that is a piece of shit.  They are apart of you, your DNA runs through them, you've loved them from even before they were born so you have a special ability to bear with all their bullshit.  Your child can break your heart 100 times over and you'll still be there believing the best about them.  That's a parent's love.  But can it be that way for spouses?  And if so, at what point is it just foolish and ill-advised?  When is it faith and when is just foolishness?

Love is patient, love is kind, love keeps no record of wrongs, love takes no pleasure in bad things but rejoices in virtuous things.  Love hopes all things, believes all things, endures all things.  Love never fails.  That's my simplified translation of I Corinthians chapter 13 verses 4 through 7.  Sounds awesome, right?  Everyone loves that definition of love because we each imagine ourselves on the receiving end of it.  We want someone who will love us unconditionally, through all the challenges and hurts, someone who will forgive us when we fall short, someone who will gloss over our mistakes as effortlessly as we do and focus only on our attempts and good intentions, rather than on all the times that we majorly fuck up.  However, I realize that in order for this model of love to work, really work in real time I have to be willing to give that love.  I have to bear with his faults.  I have to be patient.  I can't keep a record of his wrongdoings.  I have to believe the best about him.  If I claim to love him, I have to love him.  I think what is implied by that beautiful scripture is that love is HARD.  Love hurts and love will break your heart.  But if we want the beauty we have to embrace the beast.

It's a cheap cheat to post lyrics to a song written by someone else in my blog, but I love this song and it expresses exactly what I'm feeling.

They say it's a river that circles the earth
A beam of light shining to the edge of the universe
It conquers all, it changes everything

They say it's a blessing, they say it's a gift
They say it's a miracle and I believe that it is
It conquers all but it's a mystery

Love breaks your heart
Love takes no less than everything
Love makes it hard
And it fades away so easily

In this world we've created, in this place that we live
In the blink of an eye babe, the darkness slips in
Love lights the world, unites the lovers for eternity

Love breaks the chains
Love aches for everyone of us
Love takes the tears and the pain
And it turns it in to the beauty that remains

Look at this place
It was paradise but now it's dying
I'll pray for love
I'll take my chances that it's not too late

Love breaks your heart
Love takes no less than everything
Love makes it hard
And it fades away so easily, oh, oh, oh

Love breaks the chains
Love aches for everyone of us
Love takes the tears and the pain
And it turns it in to the beauty that remains

Vanessa Williams - Love Is Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Wife in the City

In DC visiting the husband while he is in town for work.  2 and a half hour drive so of course I'm at the bar.  Apparently you can't get Yuengling Lager south of the Delaware border so I'm enjoying a Cape Town Heineken with my double shot of Jack.  Not trying to get drunk, just want to get nice.  I get to spend at least the next 24 hours with no kids so I'm hoping to spend most of it in that happy warm place achieved through alcohol.  Or weed.  But I don't have any weed.  I need to get a dealer.
Can I be honest with you internet?  I recently find myself thinking about having an affair.  There isn't anyone in particular in mind, as a matter of fact there's no one that has managed to catch my attention in quite some time, but still, in the back of my mind I quietly find myself wishing I would come across someone who would give me the tingles enough to be tempted.  I haven't had that new sex feeling in 6 years, 2009 was the last time I introduced a new dick to my JJ and I kind of miss it.  Actually, the hubby wasn't even new dick at that point, he was a repeat from the past.  The last authentically "new" dick was... wow, not even sure.  Either way, I find myself craving the thrill of that first encounter.  The flirting, the chasing, the innuendo. Extended eye contact, being playful, feeling sexy, wondering when "it" was going to happen.  How long would you tease and dance around the inevitable?  When you could just be two people wrapped up in each other, living the moment to the fullest.  No kids, no bills, no cockblocking reality ruining the moment.  That's why he cheated on me.  He wanted something new, something exciting, something fun and easy.  Light.  Real life is so fucking heavy some days.  Adult life is so goddamn boring.  Sometimes you just want that Phil Collins "In the Air" moment.  You know that fucking song.  There's that moment towards the end of the song about 3:15 minutes in when the drums come in and it's like "Oh shit, it's about to go down."  You don't even really listen to the first part of the song, it's like background elevator music; something about letting somebody drown?  But then the music gets all dramatic and then BAM!  DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DA... I CAN FEEL IT COMING IN THE AIR TONIGHT OH LORD!  And you're like all shit, it just got real, and your panties just like slide down your legs. lol
But alas, I don't think I'd actually do it.  Lord knows I would be justified in having a little fling.  That rat bastard started a whole relationship and made a fucking baby with his side piece.  I should be allowed to get even with tryst without feeling guilty.  His stupid bitch is going to be in our lives for at least the next 18 muther fucking goddamn 18 years FUCK MY LIFE.  Did I mention that I hate her?  I hate her kid too.  There, I said it internet.  Now judge me.  Fuck you.  I hate the kid my husband made with his whore.  Judge me.

Today

First day back at work after the trip up to Rhode Island.  It was nice spending time with my son, talking to him.  I'm grateful that he is comfortable talking to me about most stuff.  It would have been nice to take the ride with just the two of us, but I just didn't feel right leaving the baby at home.  My two boys, one almost 18, the other not even 4 months old.  Its surreal at times how my life has come to be.  I had thought by now things would be, I don't know, just different.  I wanted to be married with more kids, but I imagined I'd have accomplished more in the way of my career and with my writing.  I feel like I should have had something published somewhere by now.  I regret getting rid of my myspace account.  Sure, it wasn't the "cool" place to be anymore but it was a great forum for my writing.  I was putting up a new piece at least once a week.  Sure it wasn't all gold, but every now and then I would come up with something I was really proud of.  I haven't written anything like that in so long.  Sure I've jotted some a few phrases here and there, but nothing like how I used to flow.  How can I call myself a writer if I don't write?
Anyway, today at work I was in the lab by myself.  I was irritated because M---- was slacking off last night and left bunch of work for me and no one was coming in to help me until 5 pm and I was leaving at 5:30.  Being by myself is good and bad.  On one hand it gives me time to think and just be inside my head.  On the other hand it gives me time to be inside my own head!  All day I was going over in my mind all the things I want to say to him about S----.  Finding that he was looking at her pictures on Instagram was like (another) knife in my heart.  I could scream and cry, yell, make accusations, threaten to leave and all that shit but for what?  I feel so fucking trapped sometimes because no matter what he does I only have 2 options.  Stay or leave.  I can't make him change, I can't make him act right and respect me by not interacting with these women.  He's going to do what he's going to do. All I can do is stay, focus on the positive parts of our relationship and hope things get better.  Ignore the shit he does even though its eating a hole in me.  I hate him so much sometimes for the things he has done and continues to do.  I don't have any proof that he's done anything recently besides look at a few pictures, but what difference does that make?  Last time I waited until I had enough more than enough evidence.  Emails, texts, secret phone numbers and dating profiles, the whole nine, yet when I confronted him he still lied.  And the things he couldn't lie about he just downplayed and made it seem like I was making a big deal out of nothing.  I accepted it because if I didn't we would have had to break up.  That has become my life. Believe the lies, accept the apology and keep it moving or break up my family.  Sure he cries and acts all broken up over the things he's done, yet 6 days ago there he was on Instagram looking at pictures of his ex-friend with benefits, the first woman he cheated on me with after we got married.  And like a dumbass he "likes" one of them.  It wasn't enough to just enjoy them quietly, no he had to announce to her and everyone else that he liked it.  How was he to know I would decide to reactivate my profile and go looking around on there?  So many fucking times I've caught him in some bullshit it's been by accident, when I wasn't even really looking.  What an asshole.  So what, do I confront him?  For what? So I can get his same old bullshit innocent guy line?  Trying to convince me that it didn't mean anything.  Or he'll start crying again, telling me how angry he is with himself.  How much he hates himself.  Whatever.  And what are my options?  I got 2 little kids here.  Am I really supposed to go down this path again?  I spent hundred of dollars of my parents money filing for divorce only to get back with this lying sack of shit because like a weak fool I actually wanted to believe that he could change.  There's no way I could go to them again and tell them we're doing the She Leaves Him scene, take 2.  And my kids, my babies.  I couldn't put my daughter through that again.  It killed me seeing how stressed she was.  Even more than my own stress and anxiety, watching the madness through her eyes was too much.  I hate him for putting me in the situation.  Why can't he just fucking act right?  Fucking Bitchney.  I hate that whore.  Brain dead cunt.  I hope she... No.  No, I won't say that.  Not even here.  But I do hate her.   I hate them.  I hate whores.  I hate every piece of shit female who knew he was married and spread her nasty legs for him anyway.  I despise the vows I took that bind me to him.  And even with all the love I have for my babies I hate that I am forever stuck with his trifling lying conniving fuck face.  Geez.  Tell me how you really feel.

That is all.