Happiness is a choice. You can CHOOSE to be happy with your family. You can CHOOSE to be happy with your life... or you can choose to run away from it.
**The rest of this was written a couple of hours ago in a Starbucks...... if the time line seems off. As it is right now, my "husband" is asleep on the couch across from me - allegedly spending time with his children. He is mostly sleeping though, and shooing them off him to their video games......... and here I am - trapped.**
Look at that - I just wrote '08 on a paper for the first time.
I want to unload. I want to take everything screaming inside my head and just drop it here - neatly on this paper. But it doesn't work that way, does it?
My isolation scares me. My dependence on him terrifies me. Wondering how long it has been - since I have honestly been loved crushes me.
I am currently taking refuge in a Starbucks. Not the one that I normally go to next to my son's school... no - instead it is the one with the music that plays much too loudly. But it's ok... I hope it will distract me enough to keep this flowing "one thought at a time..." Because otherwise it is squatting inside me - like a poison.
Andrew is "visiting" the children right now. I had to leave. He acts like - he is there... so everything is just "normal." Just keep trudging along and such... and then he will leave... and like yesterday, the questions will start... "when is Daddy coming home" "is Daddy going to be here when I'm awake" "is Daddy going to kiss me while I am sleeping" "but Mommmyyyy when is Daddy going to be here" "I want Daddy"... the list goes on and on... and on.
I don't know. I don't know if Daddy will ever again be the man I thought he was. The one I thought I knew. The one that I expected to spend my life with. Right now - he seems to have fallen happily and contently into the role of "part-time father" - coming and going as he pleases - leaving all the real parenting to me. All the hard stuff. All the EMOTION. It makes me sick to my stomach.
Thursday was the first night he was not "home." Friday morning I got up... and walked sleepily to my closet and pulled open the double doors. On the left side of the closet - there were his clothes... neatly waiting for him, as if he was there. And on the right side - where my clothes normally greeted me in the same pleasant manner - it was startlingly empty. And, I looked down. The entire bar holding my clothes had fallen during the night. I had not heard a sound... and I normally hear everything - especially when I am alone. Everything was in a messy lump on the floor. I was stunned. For a moment - I felt like life was really just trying to shit on me. Really. Then... I got the message. It's time to clean out my closet. Both literally (obviously) and metaphorically.
So - now what? I got the message - What the heck am I supposed to do with it?
This is so hard. And I don't know what I am supposed to be doing. Am I waiting for him to see the light? Keeping myself emotionally in limbo... craving the moment he comes to his senses and terrified he won't? Do I take the power out of his hands? Tell him how childish he is behaving - and to come home and get therapy? Or, tell him to just go?
At what point do I allow his determination to throw our life together away during this years long breakdown of his, and let it win? I feel like during the past few years - this monster has taken up residence in the body of the man that used to love me.... I KNOW people change... and grow. But this is different. I want to say it is a midlife crisis - started by the irreversible fact of becoming a father again 5 years ago... and thrown into overload by losing both of his parents so close together. So then.. at what point does it win? Do I just say fine - go self destruct on your own? I love him very much... I love the person he used to be - and I hope will one day be again much more........ how do I help him find himself?
I am having to appear strong, and even cold on the outside - for my children's sake - but on the inside I feel like I am falling apart. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
There is so much more I wanted to add - but I just can't word it right now.
No - now I have to go home and see him off - leaving my innocent and confused children in his wake - to question me all night long about the whereabouts of Daddy. At what point do I tell them Daddy isn't coming back... to live here, anyway?
In the last 24 hours - both of my brothers have told me "it will be okay" "we have been through worse/we will get through this too..."
Will we? And - when will I know?
Posted Date: : Jan 6, 2008 5:12 PM