I’m going to deviate for my normal rhetoric about my doctors’ visits and medications and blah blah. Everything since my last update has been the same. Good days, bad days…the usual. What I really want to talk about is what’s been going on inside; deeper than the MCTD.
About two weeks ago, I made the decision to file for separation from my husband of nearly seven years. A decision that didn’t come lightly or easily. It put me in the hospital. The stress of everything got the best of me and I spent the better half of last week throwing up multiple times a day. Lovely image, I know. I was severely dehydrated because I couldn’t eat and what I did manage to eat, I threw back up. When I wasn’t throwing up, I was crying. I wouldn’t even consider it crying…it was like a part of me was leaving my body and I was inconsolable. I cried myself to sleep every day. My husband hasn’t been dealing with it well either, as you can imagine.
Why I decided to do what I did…. a lot of reasons. Prior wounds that have yet to heal and probably never will. Trust that was lost (on both ends) that I don’t believe will ever be regained. Severed Communication. Those reasons alone are grounds for a divorce, but my catalyst was time. What I mean by that is, since the clock is running, I want the chance to experience things I simply haven’t in my relationship. To really understand, I have to back track a few years, or a decade…I was 19 when I met my husband, moved in together by 21, legally married by 23, had the wedding by 24, and became a mother a 27.
When I met my husband, I had just gotten out of an abusive ‘relationship’, if you can even call it that and never gave myself time to get over that. There were warning signs from the beginning that I ignored because I was young and in love. The first ‘I love you’ was an experience I’ve never forgotten and not for the fairytale reasons one might assume; I cried but not out of happiness. When the proposal came, I never cried. His family wasn’t happy or supportive of his decision to marry me. The legal ceremony was nothing but a formality so no need for tears there. The actual wedding…for me, was a nightmare. I didn’t have the dress I wanted (my parents bought the dress that my mom had me try on and started crying when she saw me…total guilt buys). We got married in the Virgin Islands so having to rely on a wedding planner was exhausting and stressful. My cake came out awful looking and tasting. One of the center pieces broke in route so it was horribly pieced together. I was Xanax’d out the entire time because of the stress, which made my dress too big on the big day. Everything was just…not what I wanted. I didn’t cry, but everyone else did. That made me feel like a total asshole let me tell you. Everything from start to finish wasn’t what I wanted or imagined. Before my diagnosis it wasn’t so much of a big deal because we could always renew our vows at some point and then I could have the wedding I wanted.
About a year ago, I realized that a ‘new’ wedding wasn’t going to give me the things I missed out on along the way. Things from that point got messy and more screwed up as the months went on until something inside me broke and I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t want to do it anymore. I want the chance to maybe, just maybe, have the moments I never had before I die. If I ever meet someone and fall in love again, I want to cry, [out of happiness] when I hear those three words. If that person [that doesn’t exist for me yet], for some reason, is dumb enough to want to marry the dying, single mom, I want to cry when he asks me to be his wife. If that ever comes true, I want to walk down the aisle, in a dress a love, surrounded by people I love, and cry when I see that man waiting for me. Will it ever happen…I don’t know; but I couldn’t live the rest of my life not knowing what that feels like.
This isn’t going to be easy for anyone, but my daughter needs to know that through darkness, there is a light. And through pain, there comes beauty. She needs to know that if I can walk through the fire and get to the other side with courage; then so can she. Sick or not. Dying or not. There’s always a second chance if you allow yourself to overcome the fear. Time will tell if I ever get to experience the things I missed. It would be wonderful if I do, but I would be perfectly happy living out my days with my angel by my side. It’s amazing the things you can see once you allow yourself to not be blinded by fear…