It’s been far too long since I’ve written and shared with you all the way the past few months have been going. To be perfectly honest, I’ve been too depressed and unmotivated to use my most expressive form of therapy. The last time I wrote, my situation was vastly different than it is now. I was in a relationship with someone whom I cared about very much while I was navigating the waters of divorcing my husband. My health was iffy, but I was getting through the days. A LOT has happened since my last post…
The relationship I was in ended, mutually mind you, but it still hurt. It’s true when they say that if something seems too good to be true than it isn’t real; learned that one the hard way. The fairytale I never wanted or thought I would have was ripped out from under me in less than 24 hrs. It pretty much confirmed my fear that I would never have the kind of happiness and love I was promised all those months. It’s been a few months since the split and while wounds have healed, and we no longer speak to one another; I can’t pretend that the anger and hurt doesn’t still linger a bit. Not so much for him, per say, but for the broken promises and the future that I’ll never have. It kind of killed that last shred of hope I had; I haven’t tried to seek it out ever since.
Once that ended, my husband and I had a very honest conversation about what had gone on (on both our ends) the fast few months. I admitted and owned my indiscretions and although he “the same”; the empath in me knows there’s a lingering secret that I may never find out. I agreed to give our marriage a shot, mainly for Ava but partly because deep down I want/wanted the man I married back. Very little has changed in the past few months; it’s the same cycle over again, only there’s more silence than communication. I’m still unhappy, he’s still unhappy; it’s a train wreck. Don’t get me wrong, there have been times when it appears and feel “normal” and I’m happy; and there another ball drops.
I hit my final breaking point last night as a matter of fact; something inside me said, “man or no man, sick or healthy, as hard as being alone may be, there has to be an end game here”; so, I wrote a letter. I got so fed up with seeing and feeling the stress, tension, sadness, and anger written all over him and yet never hearing an uttered word. There’s always an excuse as to why he can’t or doesn’t want to talk “about it”; it’s infuriating. What’s worse is when he finally decides to talk about whatever is bothering him, it’s always my fault; I am always the catalyst for his actions. I just had it. So, I told him that if he didn’t go back to therapy (like he promised he would a thousand times over the past, god knows how many months), go back on his Depression/Anxiety medication (which he insists he doesn’t need but I call bullshit), and stop making me feeling an unappreciated roommate; I would be gone for good. I have/had been wearing my wedding rings, but I stated that until he did what he needed to do, they weren’t going back on my finger. Mind you, I’ve already had a consultation with a divorce attorney (courtesy of my ex) and have their contact information if that’s the final road we’re taking.
On a happier note…Ava began preschool in September and started soccer this month. She LOVES them both. Seeing the pride, she has when she shows me the work she’s done at school makes me the proudest mom in the world. And soccer…well…she’s a natural like her mom in both soccer and flirting with her teenage coaches’ skills. I’m glad that she has a distraction from what goes on behind closed doors; lord knows I need one.