Wednesday, December 23, 2009
This distance between me and this blog/you all has been crushing.
Because it seems that if I don't allow my thoughts and feelings to vent, well, they just end up crushing me on the inside. There is nowhere for them to go.
Where have I been these many weeks?
Losing my mind.
Now, don't get me wrong: I have days when I feel okay. It isn't that I don't think too much or hurt too much on those days, it is just that I am better able to keep out the crazy or keep myself calm...er.
But there are many days wherein I don't think I can go on a moment longer. Where I can't STOP thinking and hurting. Those days are bad. So bad.
It is frustrating, too. Because I know how calm and even and peaceful I was able to feel when he was gone. Why is it so hard to be that way now? I do know that part of it is I have not been clinging to Father in Heaven as closely as I had when Beloved was away. When he was being unfaithful. When he was cheating. Gosh. I realize that I talk about it often as 'when he was gone'. Is it because I don't want to call it what it was? Or another reason? I am not sure. But I am realizing that I cannot be peaceful and calm if I'm not keeping myself spiritually centered. So I need to fix that.
We are in counseling. Marriage counseling. And I really like our thereapist. So does he. This week we talked about the fact that I hurt. Gosh that sounds like such a simple thing to say: "I hurt." But I don't know how else to say what it is that I feel.
This hurt is so...pervasive. Is that the word I want? I think I understand how people get hooked on drugs (prescription or otherwise) just to dull all the noise in their heads and emotion they cannot deal with. I think sometimes it would be nice just to go to sleep and not...feel.
I told Beloved: Forgiving is easy. I've done that. I have no need to make him hurt or 'pay' for what he has done. That is between him and God.
Forgiving is easy. It's the not hurting part that I am having trouble with.
And I wonder if it will ever go away? Do you think it does? Fully?
Beloved's grandfather is very ill. And grandma isn't doing so well, either. And one of Beloved's aunts sent out an email with a dialogue between Grandma and Grandpa that was so...tender...and I thought (after crying and crying at the sweet and loving emotions expressed by word or carried along in the words) "Will we get there? Will there be a day in the future where I won't hurt about this and think about it? When I don't ache?"
I think there will. I think it will come. But I really hope it comes soon. Because I feel like I am not the best Gigi I could be while I feel all of these...icky emotions, for lack of better words. (Hey, it's almost midnight and I am out of the habit of writing. Cut me some slack.)
I have learned (after my last REALLY BAD episode of 'crazy') that I need you. This is where I think through my emotions and I find in writing them, I have to form them in a coherent manner. And so they stop bumping around in my head like balloons. So now you know.
And thanks for the therapy.
Friday, November 13, 2009
I have been out of the blogosphere for a while. We went on vacation as a family. Our computer crashed. Things like that.
I'm back now. I think the computer problem is fixed. (Though I am using my Mom's computer to type this up right now.)
I have several posts I have been working on in my head. You know, because I hate actually writing up drafts and stuff. Too lazy.
Beloved's post will be coming on his own time. Right now we are still trying to get 'us' in shape. If 'in shape' is the right word...which, it's not. Oh well.
I have to go. The pizza's in the oven and I need to hurry. We're going out and leaving the kids with my Mom and Dad for the weekend. Yippee!
Monday, October 19, 2009
Friday (09-25-09) started out with me thinking about what he had said the night before. I awoke and thought about it and decided that I was going to be thankful for what had transpired, but not read too much into it. I thought to myself, "Ok. He needs time. I can do that. If he needs a month, I'll give him a month. If he needs three, I'll give him three..."
On Thursday night he and I talked about Kirby Heyborne and some of his youtube stuff that I saw. I told Beloved he had to see the Kirby Heyborne/Mr. T commercial for Snickers. So I emailed it to him when he went home. Then I wrote in my journal and sent him a few emails of things I found (news stories and a cakewreck that I knew he would hate--er, love). We emailed back and forth that day about them.
When he got home from work on Friday we gravitated to each other. He kept finding me to hug or kiss or just talk. I was doing the same.
After the kids went to bed he and I sat and watched t.v. (I don't remember what) and he took my hand and was stroking it and looking at it with a queer expression. Queer, because I didn't know what it meant. So I asked him, "What? Is it dry?"--because I'm super-classy that way.
He answered with, "No. I just...missed holding your hand."
I didn't know how to take that. So I asked him, "Are you for real? Is this for real?"
And he asked, "What? This?"(indicating his hand holding mine)
And I said, "Yes. Are you serious?"
And we began talking. I wish I could remember how it all began. But we talked. I remember him saying something about coming over and every day I was just so loving and he didn't expect me to cook dinner for him or to be kind or happy to see him, but I did all those things and I laughed at his jokes (a sense of humor is terribly important to him--and me), and I was keeping the house organized and, "and you looked so beautiful. Every day. Why did you do those things?!"
And so I told him, "Well, the looking nice was for me. I like the way I look. I think it's funny that it took this for me to find that I like me. And the house, and treating you that way, well, I wanted you to feel comfortable and welcome here."
And we talked more. He told me everything. He told me how sorry he was, and how he was a fool. And I asked him when he wanted to come home. And he looked like I had just handed him the moon. And he started crying again and said, "I want to come home right now." And I said that he needed to do something first (which was that he needed to tell her it was over).
He had already told her that he would not ever be moving out to be with her. She was pretty upset about that. She had already rented and furnished an apartment in June with the understanding that he would be moving out there.
I was a mess. I wasn't sure what to think. He seemed in earnest, but it felt too easy. I thought, "Have I been through enough? Shouldn't this struggle be longer?" I know, I know, 'don't look a gift-horse in the mouth' and all that. But I couldn't help it.
So I was honest and told him that I was afraid that I'd wake up in the morning and when he came over he'd tell me it was all a joke and wasn't I stupid for falling for it. Or I picured (but didn't tell him this) that he'd be here in the morning with divorce papers, laughing at me, at my gullibility.
He asked me what I wanted him to do and I said that I wanted him to go to his place and call her. Break it off, and come back home. I didn't care how long it took. I wanted to wake up beside him. If this was for real I didn't want to spend another night away from him. He agreed. We kept talking (and crying, and hugging, etc.).
This exchange lasted hours. Neither of us wanted him to leave, but at the same time, we wanted it to be over so he could be home again. At least, that's what I think we both felt.
He left and called her from his cell phone in the car. He told her that he was calling so late because we had been talking and that he had told me everything and that I was willing to take him back. She hung up on him.
He called her back and he explained that it was over and he was coming back home. She called him names and told him he was a rotten person, emotionally abusive and manipulative, etc. She told him not to ever contact her again, which he agreed to. She told him not to call her family or her friends or anything else. He agreed to that, too, and no emails or texts. (Incidentally, BFF and I had a good laugh over this. She said, 'wow she was really covering her bases, there, wasn't she' and we laughed and added, 'and don't send me a telegraph!' and 'no letters!' and 'not even by pony express!' and 'no telegrams, singing or otherwise!' See, it's fun to laugh at inappropriate things...)
I don't remember what else. But he called me on my cell phone and said that he was finished and he was on his way 'home'. That was something that was sweet. While he and I were talking he said a couple of times that he had to go back to his place to get clothes and to break it off with her and come back 'home'--and he would say the word with such relief and delight.
While he was gone I got online and was too confused to write a post about what had just happened. So I finished a post I had been working on earlier and posted it.
I went to my room to read my scriptures and wait. I changed the sheets on the bed (because Big Boy had slept in the bed 2 nights in a row since Baby Boy was having a hard time sleeping and Big Boy drools...a lot. And it was all on Beloved's side of the bed. I figured he probably didn't want to sleep on that.)
I heard his car. I was listening for it. I met him at the door. I opened the door for him and he looked at me and he said, 'I'm home.' and I hugged him and said, "Welcome home." And we cried.
We got into bed and talked for several more hours. I kept waking up because I was being squeezed from behind and because he kept saying over and over " I love you. I love you, honey. "
That's about all I remember.
And so here it is...I asked Beloved if he'd be willing to tell you why he came home. In his own words. He said he would. And he said he'd be willing to answer questions, too. As am I.
HC, I see you left a question and advice in your comment. I will address it in the next post. And, if this is the HC that I think it is, then you should know that I love you right back. And miss you. And wish I could see you and give you a big hug. And bake brownies and goodies on a Sunday afternoon like old times. ; )
OK. Sorry about that, folks. Back to business. So. IF you would like to hear from Beloved, let me know. Not that you have much choice in the matter, since I am going to have him do it anyway. But, if you have a particular question you would like answered, post it or email me with it. I am not saying it will be answered (I reserve the right to tell him not to answer a question if I think it is inappropriate), but feel free to ask it.
Also. If I have left any holes, feel free to point them out to me, too. My email is right there on the right hand side of the page.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Anonymous- I am so sorry you were taken in by that 'april rose'. I had never heard of it until you commented about it here. I googled it (gotta love that google). Holy cow. I can see that you would feel embarrassed or upset for being taken in by that hoax and then determined never to repeat it. And so I can understand you feeling unsure about my blog.
I didn't even think of Beloved as being a romance-novel name. It is what his first name literally means. And what I've called him in our emails or notes to each other for many years. Well, that and "Q" for "querido".
And there may be missing pieces to what I have posted. I have tried to keep some of his doings (that may be embarrassing to him) to myself. And a lot of my own experiences as well, kind of because I can't write everything or my fingers would cramp up. I may need to reread and see if I can fill in the holes. The problem is, since I KNOW all that happened (um, cuz it happened to me) then I may not see the holes. You know?
And believe me, I realize it was a quick turnaround. It's why my head was spinning for days and days after. It still does some days.
But now there are other emotions to contend with other than just 'is this for real? is he here to stay? does he mean what he has said?' Now there are emotions of frustration (with myself and with him), and impatience (with myself for having a hard time saying 'i forgive you'--I say a lot of 'It's okay's and 'I know's and 'We'll get through this's ) though I know I need time to heal all that hurt and loss of trust. And yes, there is still a lot of hurt. A lot.
It seems that I hurt so much easier now. I mean. I kept telling myself (when he was gone) "You can't hurt over everything." And I guess it became my mantra.
I was so tough and in control. I kept it all together (definitely it wasn't me alone, I know it was Heavenly Father holding me together--I'm not that strong), and felt peaceful a lot of the time.
And then he came home. And it feels like I am bleeding most of the time, now.
I feel like all my defenses are gone. I have my moments where I just can't handle certain things. What's worse is that I can't seem to keep it to myself anymore. With him back and all that we've talked about, it is like I am stripped of my defenses. And I cry. And I hate to see his face when I do. He hurts. I don't want to add any more to that, you know? But at the same time he says it is part of the return process. That he needs to understand all the consequences and pain caused by his actions. I struggle with that. Isn't there a balance there that must be struck?
It isn't that I cry all the time now. It's more that my tears come more readily than before. Sometimes surprising even me.
And stupid things make me cry. Or good things. Like the first day that he was back at work (he took the Monday after he came home off to spend with me) and he called me just to hear my voice. I said, "what do you want?" and he said that he just missed me and wanted to hear my voice and I couldn't help it and just burst out crying. Yup. That's me. It's what I've been reduced to: A bawler. Not to be confused with a 'baller'. That's something totally different.
And Sunday. We had just got back home from church and the kids ran inside and he and I were standing out front just chatting and he ran his finger along the side of my face and said, "Mmm. I love this face." Yeah. I bawled again.
I've used this description a lot lately, but it's the best way I can think of to explain it. It's like I feel so raw and bruised on the inside that even a gentle touch causes me to bleed. Maybe it's the gentle touch that does it. Perhaps I could more easily withstand harshness. I don't know.
Maybe now with all of me laid so bare anything would make me bleed...now that he's here.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Something I forgot to mention the last post was that I began paying attention to the sports headlines and when I found a story that touched me (like this one) or made me smile I would pass it on to him in an email with a sentence or two about what I thought. He began responding to them. I cried one day at how thrilled I was to get a response with, "That was awesome! Thank you!" I thought, "how pathetic am I?!" and cried again for my patheticalness (yes, it's a real word).
Monday is the day after Sunday (just, you know, in case you forgot) so I'll start there.
Monday (09-21-09) I don't really remember much of this day. What I do remember is that there was more tentative snuggling on the couch. He and I watched the Leno show (or whatever it is called) and continued sitting as we had on Saturday. Then when he was leaving I walked him to the door. I stood in the doorway and Beloved stood on the step below me. We stood chitchatting for a moment or two and then I gave him a hug. And kissed him on the cheek. And then the neck. And I was surprised to find that I wanted more than kisses and kind of grabbed him to me. And then he wrapped his arms around me and I got freaked out and pushed him away with an "I'm sorry." And his eyes were round and...hopeful. ( I wonder if that is the right word. It seems like that now, though at the time I wasn't sure what was there...Hmm...maybe I should ask him) And he said, 'why are you sorry?!' And I just didn't know how to say all that I was feeling--which is confused and scared and hopeful and more scared (because of the hopefulness)--and just repeated 'I'm sorry' and closed the door.
Tuesday (09-22-09) was just the same as Monday. Except for I think we were both a little more wary of each other. But, again, there was kissing at the door as he was getting ready to leave.
Wednesday (09-23-09) I had a primary (church group for kids ages 18 mos-11 years)presidency meeting and was gone for most of the evening. When I returned I
His hands were cold. His hands are NEVER cold. He was standing to leave and I stood with him near the door. I said, "let me see them" and took his left hand to see if it was really cold. It was. So I stood and talked with him and rubbed his hand between my own, and breathed on it to warm it up. He said it felt nice and we continued talking (About my fave Craig Ferguson and other stuff). And he said, "I love you" for the first time since June 5th. For the first time he said it on his own. NOT becuase I said it and he felt like he needed to say it back. NOT with a qualifier like "I love you, just not...(blah blah blah)" Just. I love you.
This is what I wrote in my journal the next day:
I want to cry.
Last night...Beloved said "i love you" for the first time (WITHOUT me saying it first) since June 5th.
Today I got an email. Tacked onto it at the end was 'Love you"
Is this good? Is this amazing? Is this great and wonderful and reason to rejoice?
Maybe I'll take the small victories and not worry about the big stuff right now.
Be grateful for what you can be grateful for, right?
Thursday (09-24-09) Big Boy had pack meeting for cub scouts. He's a Webelo and he earned his Arrow of Light award that night. It's a big deal and Beloved came along. Here is where it was a little funny: See, only a handful of people that were there that night knew that Beloved and I were separated. And we had to get up together to paint Big Boy's face and to pin the arrow of light on him and for him to pin me, etc. As I stood up there with Beloved and our son, I was very aware of Beloved's hand on my back, on my waist, at my hip, etc. He stood close. I felt exposed standing up there and still was so very confused. As I said in my journal entry. That day I received an email that said, "love you" and the night before he told me he loved me. Sure, we had been touching and kissing at home, but we were in public, here! I didn't know what was going on. (Gee, that seems to be my perpetual state of mind, doesn't it?)
That night we got home and he kept finding me and kissing me. Ok, I admit, I took my opportunities, too. The kids got put to bed and the kissing and stuff got to be pretty heavy. We stopped and talked a little bit. We were standing the whole time and by now we were standing in the living room. He said, well...Here. Another glimpse into my journal: This is what I wrote after he left:
To My Father in Heaven
Thou art a God of Miracles.
Thou art a God of Love.
Thou art a God of Joy.
Thou art a God of Peace.
Thou art a God of Hope.
Thou art my God.
Thou art my Father.
All my thanks I give to Thee.
All my love is in thanks to Thee.
All my heart is yours to do with it what Thou wilt.
For how could I not believe in Miracles?
How could I not believe in Love?
How could I not believe in Joy? or Peace? Or Hope?
When I see so clearly Thy existence proven
In the gifts of said miracles, said love, said joy, said hope and peace?
I will follow Thee all the days of my life.
For Thou hast led me through the darkness.
And the light can be seen, though from a distance.
And it is enough.
"You look beautiful tonight. You look beautiful every night, actually"
"Thank you." smile. "I know." smirk/smile.
surprise. pleasant. smile. "Good"
"You really are beautiful."
smile (though a little bashful) "I know. And thank you."
"I hope you can be patient with me"
"Haven't I been patient with you?"
"You've been...more than patient...I've spent so much time moving away from you. I don't want to move away from you anymore. I feel like I'm coming out of a fog...I guess...I'm moving in a different direction"
eyebrows up. "that's...good to know..." afraid to breathe.
"I need you to give me time..."
"You have time. You have time...It's hard. For you."
"But you're worth it."
a gentle argument ensues consisting mostly of "no I'm not"s and "you ARE worth it"s, then...
"No. I'm not...But you are."
blush. eyes and head down. hand to eyes/face. head up. 'Don't make me cry, you big bully' smile. kiss.
i love you's from both...and from him first.
I kept telling him he is worth it. He is. I've never doubted this whole time if he was worth it. Only if I really wanted to keep fighting when it would be so easy to just give up. Feel so good to be angry and mean. But that darn truth--He is worth it kept coming back to me.
"you are worth anything I'd have to go through...(later) you ARE worth it. And when you believe that--everything will fall into place"
"I'll never believe that"
He will. Because it is true. He is worth it. This family is worth it. But HE is worth it.
OK. So, I'm going to go ahead and stop there for now. After looking this over, I'm going to put his words in one color, and mine in another, to make the journal entry easier to read. I hope that helps.
Also, thanks to Steph and Rosanne for sticking up for me and verifying my existence and the validity of my blog. Anonymous, no worries. Though, I am curious as to what is so unreal about my life. Just wondering.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Beloved's desire to spend evenings together is lovely. . .but it's hell on my blogging habit.
I mean, I had a system: At night after he went home I'd sit down at the computer and surf through blogs. If I felt like writing a post, I'd do it, or start a post, at least. If not, I'd just write in my online journal (ldsjournal.com, FYI, is super--you can text in your journal entry for the day and they email you if you haven't logged on in 3 days as a reminder). I'd watch a little t.v. and then read my scriptures and say my prayers and climb into bed in time to watch Craig Ferguson's monologue. Then I shut off the t.v., roll over and go to sleep. Ahhhh.
OK. It was lonely, sure. But I had a system.
Now I have to find a new system. Because I feel like this blog began as a blog about the infidelity but, even though Beloved is home, there is still so much to say. My story doesn't end with him returning. I'm not sure when my story will end. I'm not even sure what will qualify as 'the end'. There is so much to work through and to deal with and SOOOO much that I didn't say.
And this is why:
Luke 2: 19. "But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart." (King James Version)
There were many times that I just felt like I needed to hold thoughts and experiences and even blessings, etc. inside. Maybe I was afraid he'd use it against me. Maybe I was afraid I'd jinx things. Maybe I was afraid I'd be laughed at. I mean, I have been laughed at (NOT by Beloved--just to clarify). And it's ok. I know they weren't trying to hurt my feelings. They were just reacting. And I can let it not bother me now.
So here goes some of the story. I say 'some' because my fingers may get tired.
On the 8th of September (09-08-09) I asked Beloved to do something for me. I asked him to tell me three things that irked him about me. He, of course, had nothing to say. ( I mean, hellO, I'm perfect...Oh, wait--) So I told him to think about it and to tell me the next day.
On the 9th of September (09-09-09) I went...somewhere...hmmm, I don't remember, actually. Oh, but it doesn't matter. OK. Back on task, Gigi. So, I came home and sat on the couch (the kids were already in bed) and asked him if he had thought about what I asked him. He said that nothing irks him about me right now. I said, well, what did...or something like that. He asked why and I answered that I'm trying to be a better person. (More on that later...Sheesh. Someone email me and remind me of all these 'laters' I've been putting in the last few posts.) So he told me. 3 things. which I was TOTALLY guilty of. And which really opened my eyes to my selfishness. Not that he said I was selfish. So don't you get yourselves upset. He just spoke the truth. I may tell you guys later. Just, right now it's not really important.
I could see that it really cost him something emotionally to tell me those things. So I told him so, and thanked him. Then when he finally looked up I smiled at him.
And then I saw it.
His eyes lit up and he sucked in a breath. It was brief. And I saw a smile on his mouth which I hadn't seen in a long while. To be honest, I was a little
We talked some more--just chitchat. He had already told me he was going to be out of town for the weekend. He told me that he went to the therapist (his first time) that day. We chatted more. I saw his mouth working in a weird way. I asked him what he was doing. He replied, "I...I want to smile at you. But I'm...nervous. It's like I'm trying to take a picture." (Beloved is notoriously unable to smile naturally for a camera)
After a little while he said, "Nothing has changed. But, would it be o.k. if I hugged you?" I smiled and said, "yes." and he stood up and I said, "What, now?" But he knew I was only teasing and I stood up and hugged him and he cried. We stood like that for several minutes. I told him, "you can always have a hug." and he said 'thank you' and got ready to go, and as we stood in the doorway I gave him another quick hug and a peck on the cheek. And he left.
The next day (09-10-09) was Thursday and we talked again after the kids were in bed. Again, just chitchat. I asked him about a marriage seminar that was taking place the weekend after in a city not far from us. He replied that what would be the point? We weren't there yet. It was the reply I expected, but I felt like I needed to make the offer anyway. Again, as he left I gave him a quick hug.
He was gone for the weekend and we saw him again on Tuesday.
(09-14-09) Baby Boy was in the backyard with my dad when Beloved came from work to see the kids. Beloved didn't come inside since the big kids were out front riding skateboards and bikes. I went outside to greet Beloved. I told him that Baby Boy heard his voice from the backyard and started grunting and looking around for him (which, I'm guessing is how he came to be let out through the gate by my dad and brought to the front yard to see Beloved by the time I got out there). I made a point to touch him on the shoulder and to look him in the eye and say with a smile, "It's nice to have you back". He smiled and said, "Thank you." And as I was turning away I let my hand slide down along his arm and didn't realize until after I took a step away that his hand was turning as if to grab mine and hold it.
During that week a lot of little things happened and changed. And I dont remember exact dates of it all. So, I'll just say them in no particular order:
I continued making a point of touching him/hugging him in greeting and parting.
And something amazing happened (well, it was amazing to me, at least): he stopped shying away from me. Now, what I mean by that is that for weeks (months?) he had avoided touching me in passing. If he had to go through the hallway at the same time as I was coming the other way, he'd press himself against the wall to avoid contact. But suddenly (and I remember the first time it happened) he was putting his hand on my waist or hips as he passed, touching my shoulder or arm if we were near each other.
I decided not to be the one to always go for a hug so I backed off. And one night I gave in as he was leaving and asked, 'can I get a hug goodbye?' The next night I was excited that I was nursing Baby Boy as Beloved was leaving and he crossed the room to hug me goodbye.
And we began kissing on the cheek as he left.
And he was staying to talk. But just chitchat. (I know I'm using that word a lot. Sorry.)
Thursday (09-17-09) was "Families Are Forever Day" for our Stake, which means that all the members of our Stake (like a parrish) who can go to the temple were asked to spend the day serving there. My mom came down and watched the kids all day (seriously...ALL day...she's awesome) and I went to the temple. I prayed that by my serving in the temple all day, perhaps God would bless my own family because of it.
Friday (09-18-09) some super fabulous women came over with the intention of helping me organize Baby Boy's room and moving Big Boy into it. Yeah. That didn't happen. What DID happen was we got all excited over the front room and rearranged it. It took all day but it looked incredible. Seriously, the room looked and felt like we added another 3 feet to the length of the room. And, since that is the only gathering room in the house (besides the kitchen), the space was much needed.
The ladies were even excited about rearranging the pictures and they hung Beloved's and my wedding photos in several places in the room, but all (somehow) facing the couch. We hung up family photos, and recentered my gorgeous "The Russian Bride's Attire" (ok. if you click on the link, just know that that chick is NOT me. I just googled 'the russian bride's attire' and hers was the best picture of it. The others were so washed out. anyway. just so you know. that's not me. I'm so not a blonde--not that there's anything wrong with that!) It all looked so lovely.
But here was the drawback: the t.v. is in a really weird position. So you have to sit on one half of the couch...or one edge of one half of the couch in order to see well. But that would prove to be felicitous. I'll explain:
Saturday (09-19-09) was just Saturday. I can't remember anything out of the ordinary except that a coworker of Beloved's was getting married that day and I was sorry that I would now miss it. I got to know his fiance while attending the softball games over the summer and really liked her. So, anyway...the kids went to bed and Beloved was busy doing some reading on the internet (I think he was reading up on BYU football). I decided to watch t.v. I decided that I was bored with t.v. and wanted to watch "The Fellowship of The Rings". I started watching it and Beloved came over to sit with me and watch it. Like I said, above, you have to sit on the last two cushions on the sectional in order to see the t.v. at a good angle. I gave him the better seat (obviously) and made myself comfortable. Thing is, from where I was sitting it was more comfortable to sit with my legs curled under me and my head resting on the cushion behind and to the side of me. So I was kind of leaning, you know? Anyway. He sat next to me and as we watched I let my hand rest on his arm. And he leaned a little closer. And I let my hand trace his arm. And the kids called for me to come sing to them or give them water or something. I got up and hoped he wouldn't say, "well, gotta go!" when I got back. He didn't. We kept watching. Me with my hand on his arm, head on his shoulder and he with his hand on my leg, and his head sometimes resting on mine. You know that movie is 2 discs long, so we only watched most of the first disc and he was tired and said he had better go. Or maybe I said that. I don't remember. He left and I thought, 'well, that was nice. but don't get your hopes up.'
Then Sunday. Well, you remember what happened Sunday.
And I'm going to stop there for now.
Friday, October 2, 2009
It has been a week since Beloved and I talked and he came home to his family...to me. The first several days were really...confusing. On one hand I was grateful to have him home and I felt he was truly sincere. On the other I was anxious that it seemed to come on so suddenly and could this be real?
I admit, there were moments that I had mini panic attacks that his return was all a ruse, that I would wake up one day to find divorce papers on my pillow or something.
That night that he came home (which I will tell about in another post) I said (to myself as well as to God), "This feels too easy." Now, I didn't mean that these last several months were easy. But, well, you have to understand where I was coming from. And that is something that I don't think I fully divulged here on my blog.
I was convinced that he was going to go to California. I was sure he wouldn't wake up on his own. Now, don't get me wrong, I held out hope. But I was gearing myself up for his departure. I kept saying to myself, "Just make it to October," which is when I thought he'd go.
I was making myself tough on the inside. I was steeling myself to what I believed would happen. I told myself that he would have to go to California and lose everything before he realized what he once had. And yet--and yet I would pray that he might not. That our children would be spared any further pain. That his heart might be softened and that he might begin to gain some sort of clarity about the situation.
So when Beloved confessed all to me and told me that he loved me and only...well, I'm getting ahead of myself now, aren't I? ; )
So I felt like I didn't know what to do with myself: here I had been readying myself for one thing and then my life turns around 180 degrees. I felt dizzy. I still do. It's a bit heady to see the way he looks at me sometimes.
The other day, though my apprehension went away. I was pulling out my cell phone to call one of my dearest friends, but as I was dialing I kept hearing BFF's name repeating in my head. I decided to call her. And as she and I talked and I explained how I felt about the situation she said something that helped me feel at peace with the way things had shifted so suddenly.
(I hope she doesn't mind my sharing this)
She told me that as I spoke it made her think of Abraham and Isaac. That Abraham was preparing himself to do this hard and awful thing, to sacrifice his son. How he must have prepared himself, resolved himself to the task--and then his hand was stayed. It made me think that maybe Heavenly Father was being merciful to me and to my little family.
I'm glad I called BFF. Don't you love when you follow a prompting and it pays off?!
Anyway. Well, I am muy cansado. So I need to get some sleep. I'll fill you in on more later, especially my perception of how the change occurred.
Oh, and on the fact that the next day...oh, you know what? It'll wait. ; )
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Those were Baby Girl's words this morning when she came into
Last night I slept only a few hours. But I'm not tired.
Beloved came home.
Shannon is back in the past where she belongs.
Right now I'm going to go snuggle with my family. Right now there are 5 people piled into our little Queen-sized bed, hugging and kissing and telling stories...oh, and one Baby Boy who is crying all of a sudden. Better go see what that is about. ; )
Friday, September 25, 2009
I prayed for that the night she told him all those things too profound for a 4 year-old.
As I lay in bed I pictured what I had asked in my prayer:
Let Baby Girl's words be like creatures with claws. Not mean. Not hurtful. Like, birds. Let her words be like little birds which might perch themselves on Beloved's heart. Let those little claws hold tight, so they cannot easily be shaken off. Let the weight and heft of their meaning lend weight and heft to his heart. Let him see what he is doing to his little girl.
And the wind is shifting. Something is changing. So we'll see...
"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will
certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of
keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an
animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid
all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your
selfishness. But in the casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it
will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable,
Thursday, September 24, 2009
I have good days and I have bad days.
The good days...are good. (I know, so eloquent. It's a wonder I haven't been nominated for a Pulitzer of Blogging. I done write real good.)
The bad days consist of me dragging my tush out of bed, and getting things done in auto-pilot mode. The bad days are salty with tears. The bad days are wearying.
But I am learning to avoid them. Not altogether. But mostly. I don't have bad days anymore. I have bad hours, or bad minutes. And they are more maneagable.
You see: If I focus on me, on how this sucks, on how hard this is and wouldn't it just be easier another way. If I start to worry that I'm too weird and noone will ever love me again. If I think about my fears/self-doubt. If I focus on the miriad of little blows and piercing remarks (that he probably doesn't even realize he's dealt), then I feel like...like I am going to sink under the weight of it.
It's physical. I can feel my shoulders fill with lead. I can feel my heart begin to race in panic or anger or fear. Or pain. I can feel myself slipping into a mud that is deep and thick--and cold at first, but then my body heat warms it up a bit and it can become...comfortable, and my will to fight it kind of...fades away. That is the danger of it. It feels so good sometimes to wallow. (As my mom used to say,--ok, she still does--'It's nice to sit in warm s***') The thing is, you can't stay there. Or you'll drown. You just keep sinking deeper and deeper into that mud. You may not even realize it when it begins to fill you. And all you are left with is hurt, pain, anger, a feeling of mistreatment, and discontent.
Now. Don't get me wrong. This isn't about depression. Depression is real. People I love suffer from severe depression or it's various incarnations. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about choosing to wallow in and focus on/relive/pick apart hurtful experiences/words/etc.
When I focus on my kids and Beloved and the concern I have for them--and stop worrying about the ways I've been wronged, etc.--the rest just melts away. I can focus. I can breathe better. I may not feel light and airy, but I sure don't feel cold and wet and swallowed up by something that could kill me. I feel peaceful. I feel--dare I say it?--happy. I smile. I laugh.
I can move freely and think freely and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. It is good.
Now, some may say that I am going about it the wrong way. Some may say a little anger never hurt anyone, and not to bury my head in the sand.
OK. So say that.
But you see, I know I was wronged. I know this sucks. Most of those things that make my bad days bad are real and true fears/feelings/concerns. But I think life is about choices. I choose not to dwell on them. I choose not to focus on Gigi.
Now that isn't to say that I don't take care of myself. I'm eating (a little too well...gotta get back to that sugar-free lifestyle), and exercising, and taking time to read, and get together with friends, and being spiritually fed as well. I feel good. But focusing on something is different from caring for something. I'm caring for myself right now. I'm focusing on my family.
I'm no fool. I know I'll have bad days again. I'm not impervious. I'm human. There may be a day in the not-too-distant future when Baby Girl comes up to me again and says (again) 'Mommy. How about a makeover...Instead of more crying?' But I will try to avoid those days. I know the secret:
It's not 'get over it'.
It's 'Get Over YOU'.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
She kept asking as we were walking to the car and as I was coercing the kids to actually "get in", 'why isn't daddy coming to church with us?'
Then she said, "He's supposed to come to church with us. We are a broken family. WE ARE A BROKEN FAMILY!!!"
Beloved was standing in the doorway of the house with Baby Boy in his arms. He asked what she said and I told him and he looked surprised and said, "why would she say that?!" I just looked at him. I wanted to say something (like, 'DUH, I wonder?!'), but it was just too sad to hear those words coming out of that sweet little mouth.
As we drove away she started to cry and said, "We are a broken family because Daddy doesn't sleep with us. Or eat breakfast with us. Or go to church with us."
I thought she forgot about it, but tonight she gave the prayer as we knelt as a family. And she asked that Daddy would be blessed and safe as he drives to his friend's house. Then after she said 'amen' she got up and looked at him and asked, 'why don't you live with us anymore?'
She said a lot of things tonight to him. And I think a dressing down by a four year old is a lot more powerful than any one I could have given. Some of what she said to him were:
why don't you live with us anymore?
you should sleep with us.
you shouldn't sleep at your friend's house.
why do you want to sleep at your friend's house?
you should just live with us.
you should come back.
just come back.
our family is broken because of you.
you should come to church and have breakfast with us.
you are breaking our family apart.
I know. It breaks my heart to write this. And it isn't all. It's all I could remember, and at one point I decided I needed to give them a little privacy so she could cry and be mad at him and he could deal with her on his own.
I don't know what to think about how he handled it. He tried to comfort her and talk to her. When she said 'our family is broken because of you' he quietly responded, 'You're probably right'. Which I wanted to say, "What 'probably'? There's no 'probably'! She IS right!" but I didn't, of course. And of course, as is typical of Beloved lately, he completely missed the point and kept saying that he never eats breakfast with the family because he is always at work by then. I felt like explaining, 'she's not complaining about breakfast. she's complaining about your lack of presence. she misses kissing you good morning and hugging you goodbye. she misses waving at the window as you drive away.' But I kind of feel what is the point in saying those things. I don't know if he even would hear it right now.
On the upside--I am feeling very well. Woah. That was totally self-absorbed, wasn't it? "Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?" and all. Sheesh.
I am going to see how to handle things with Baby Girl tomorrow. Big Boy and Big Girl act like nothing is going on. That can't be healthy. They are going to see their school's counselor soon. I talked to her about what is going on and I think after that we'll know what next.
As always, please pray for my kiddos. But also (again, as always) please pray for Beloved. That his heart will be softened to his family and that he can begin to gain some clarity of mind, some discernment, maybe.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
I have been taking time every week to go to the temple. And I am reading a little bit. I have been journaling, and working on an essay to enter into a contest. Do those count?
I try not to sit without something to occupy myself. Because if I have a moment to sit, without a kid on my lap or someone vying for my attention, I know what will be running through my head: Thing One and Thing Two in the form of "what-if" and "but-when".
It is inescapable. I get frustrated with myself for allowing this trial to overrun my day thoughts. I hate that I can't even escape it in my sleep. But I don't think there is anything I can do about it. I mean...I'm in limbo. Until Beloved chooses one thing or another, I am in my own personal purgatory.
Interestingly enough, Purgatory (according to Wikipedia) "is the condition or process of purification in which the souls of those who die in a state of grace are made ready for Heaven" Now, I must say, I think that fits in this situation. Wait a minute, hear me out! I mean, I'm not dead (um, obviously...why did I need to point that out?), but aside from that, I am in a situation, or place, if you will, in my life wherein I can be changed.
I wrote this post a few days ago, but didn't get around to finishing my thought, but yesterday as I was catching up on my googlereader I read this post from Jennifer P. I liked how she described her life right now. It is uncertain and the normalcy that she keeps thinking she'll obtain or has obtained keeps escaping her. She said, "I'm kind of spilled right now. And I want to just stay cleaned up for a while." It makes sense if you read the post. She's a great blogger. Go read the post. WAIT! AFTER you finish reading this post, Silly!
Anyway. As I read those words I felt like they describe me. So much of me is laid bare and spilled out of me right now. I am having to look very seriously at myself and I have come to realize that I wasn't someone I could be proud of before this all happened. And I thought about how Beloved's infidelity has changed me--in a good way. In a really good way. And I think the beauty of being stripped bare, of being spilled out, is just as Jennifer says, "And that each time I get spilled, there is a chance to purge out the junk and what isn't needed and only put the good stuff away."
So here I am. The beauty of it is I can change. I have choices. I can choose to take out the stuff in my life that was just...noise...or, excess...or even deficiencies (can you remove deficiencies? oh well, I think you know what I mean). I can choose to keep the good that was there before, and add to it with what I am learning now.
It is my hope that I am becoming refined and purified in this process. I know my heart is different than it was before. I know I am more forgiving, more open, more understanding, more trusting in God, more hopeful in His promises.
So maybe this purgatory isn't so bad.
Maybe it is all a matter of perspective...
And I have been thinking about how lately when I think of myself I think "Gigi" instead of my real name. When I think of Beloved, his name doesn't always come first to mind, often I think first of "Beloved" (which, to be honest, is how I thought of him before, so that isn't much of a stretch, except for now I almost call him that to people when I'm talking).
What does that say about me that I consider myself Gigi? I mean, this IS me, writing. And this IS me being ME. So why shouldn't I think of myself with that name? It used to be a nickname my big sis had for me.
You tell me. Is it weird? I really don't know.
OK. Here are a few readers whom I am worried about or hoping to hear from. (I know that was grammatically horrific...I really don't care. Oh, what am I saying? Of course I care. It's going to bug me, just like it usually does, but I am going to choose not to notice it. Laziness helps...)
P: I am praying for you and your beloved. I haven't stopped. I keep checking to see if you've written more. I am hoping since you haven't that you are doing ok. You don't need to contact me. Just know I'm pulling for you.
Anonymous blogger who set up an 'imnotgivinguponyou' email: I've responded. I hope you haven't given up on answering me. Where are you? I would like to hear your story, if you are still sharing.
Cameo: I am praying for you big time, too. How is your baby? Are you OK? Please let me know. Email me or something. When you get a chance. No rush....I'll just be sitting here drumming my fingers... ; )
To the rest of you, and my commenters, I love you love you. And I am sorry I am so slow about replying to comments. I'll be going through my emails and clearing them out this weekend. Maybe that will help? We shall see.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
As it turns out--not so much.
I guess I feel like people can't see the inside, so how are they to know how thinly I am tied together some days? How are they to know my world is suddenly made up of 'what-if's'?
I was at the school getting my kids registered and paid for, etc. (This was a few weeks ago) I felt I needed to let the school counselor know what is going on at home. She wasn't there, but I spoke to one of the women who work in the office with whom I'm only a little familiar. She said she was sorry (I don't know how to react to that without saying, 'yeah, me too.') and that she knew something was wrong as I walked into the gymnasium with my kids. She said it just looked like something was weighing me down.
It isn't the first time someone has said something like that. But the others who said that are people who are close to me, who know me and the buoyancy with which I usually go through life.
It surprises me that I have become so transparent. Have I? Should it surprise me?
It makes me think of "Graceland" by Paul Simon. Not the album, but the actual song on the album:
In July, right after returning from our trip to see Brother and Sister, the 6 of us were driving home from Beloved's softball game. Beloved decided he wanted to listen to music. He put on Graceland. I tried to keep my cool, but couldn't help reaching out as if to shut off the song, though I thought better of it and told myself, 'it's fine, you're okay' over and over again.
Because this is the part I forgot was in the song:
"And she said losing love
Is like a window in your heart,
Everybody sees you're blown apart,
Everybody sees the wind blow"
And I was thinking, yes, that is what I feel like. Like everyone can see it. And yet, I didn't believe that strangers could see it. But maybe they can. Maybe it isn't as hidden as I thought.
Maybe this is something like a tattoo. It has scarred me. It is now a part of me.
Can I make it into something beautiful?
You know what? I believe that with God's help, I can.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
As he read it both of us became very choked up. I'll explain why in a moment.
Welcome to Holland by Emily Perl Kingsley.
copyright 1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights
As published in “That All May Worship and Serve,” July, 2002,
as published on the United Church of Christ Disabilities Ministries web site at http://www.uccdm.org/2000/07/21/acceptance-of-your-child-welcome-to-holland/
"I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.
But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland."
As FIL read this to me I felt like it describes my situation
well. A loss of expectations (over a child or over your life) is a loss all the same. And yet, there can be so much joy found if one is searching
I feel blessed to not have to search very hard.
And for the record, dear readers, I view you as the lovely tulips
that have popped up in the landscape of my life. Only not so numerous as
in the picture below. ; ) Um, and sorry if that was totally cheesy. I guess Wonder Woman is rubbing off on me. (hugs, WW!)
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Anyway, I'll clarify a little as I answer some of the comments from my 'Sundays' post.
Beloved is still going to church. Just not our home ward. He is going to the ward that is near his new place. He doesn't want to face the people in our ward (as I understand it) because he'll be wondering who knows and who is looking at him wall-eyed and who is going to say something to him about it. Which, I think is funny, because I can't imagine anyone saying anything to him about it. None of our friends are like that.
[funny side note about people at church coming up and talking to him: Three weeks after I found out what was happening, I made him go to church with us, and immediately after Sacrament meeting (LDS church meetings are 3 hours long on Sundays, consisting of a sacrament service with everyone all together, then a sunday school hour and then an hour where the men meet together in their quorums, the women meet together, the young women , the young men, etc.) a gentleman came up to Beloved, shook his hand and said, "Beloved, I've got to know what you are doing. You have got to tell me right now." Beloved just blanched. He looked ill. The guy must have seen the look on his face and so he continued (after a long pause) "...'cause I am trying to lose weight and it just isn't working. How much have you lost, man?!" The color rushed back into Beloved's face and he talked about how he's lost 40 lbs and that he's been working out, etc. That, as far as I know, is the closest anyone has come to 'confronting' him. And that wasn't even confronting him! It was just poor word choice by someone who knew absolutely nothing about the situation. Which was pretty funny, if you ask me.]
And I didn't mean that people are being nosey about the situation. It's more that, well, Beloved is one of those people who are...beloved. There was always some brother stopping him to talk BYU football (Beloved's other religion) and some young man or young woman stopping Beloved in the hall to chat (he taught early morning seminary for about 2 years) or something. I tease him that it is usually the wife who is the reason families are so slow in leaving after church because the women are always talking, but for us he is the one in the halls chatting it up with everyone. People notice he isn't there.
And I don't feel embarrassed by this situation I find myself in. It's funny:
Rocky, you said you are trying to get me to stop apologizing. I don't know who you are, but guess what...I apologize wayyyy too much. I always have. I tend to take responsibility for everything. Things that I have no control over I still feel like "maybe there is something I could have done...maybe it is because I'm a rotten person...maybe if I had only (fill in the blank)". In high school my friends little brother knocked some girl up and I felt somehow guilty for it. I know. Ridiculous, but there you have it. It's me. Somehow it is my own failings that cause the sorrow in this world.
Now, when I should really feel the weight of those emotions crushing down on me--I don't. I admit there have been mistakes I made, and I intend not to make them again. But embarrasment, shame, self-consciousness? I don't feel it.
Now, do I feel guilty for those whose stomachs ache because of what I am going through? TOTALLY. I had a friend tell me tonight that she thinks about me every day, all day. I said 'I'm so sorry'. Because: I get that I have to deal with this, and occasionally feel sick or angry or grieve over it. But that's 'cuz it's my life. But that others have to feel that way...I just feel awful. And yet, this isn't my fault. Or is it? If I weren't so darn loveable... Kidding. Totally kidding.
I don't want them to go to his place because it's just one room in his friend's basement that he lives in. Beloved originally asked if he could have the kids take turns having sleepovers with him. One or two at a time, because they'd have to hang out in his room or something like that. I said no. Just...no. I remember going to see my dad some weekends and feeling so sorry for him to see how he was living. And he had his own apartment...not...a room in someone's basement. I just, hated that feeling. I can see Big Girl totally internalizing it like I did at that age. So not good.
And, frankly, it's Sunday. They are my kids. I want to be with them. And truthfully I want Beloved to be able to spend Sunday with us. It's just that some days are harder than others, you know?
And I don't "hate dealing with" Beloved or his "crap". Well, I am sick of it. But it isn't an angry sort of feeling. It's more...like, "ugh, are we still doing this?"
And I would love an apology (btw, Rocky--I love the words 'profuse' and 'profusely'...just...fyi) but not right now. And mostly because he doesn't really feel sorry. I mean, he has told me he's sorry, but it is such a vague kind of "i'm-sorry-about-all-the-starving-children-in-china" kind of disconnected "i'm sorry", you know? Did that make sense? Just to be clear: he's not apologizing for starving children in China. I just mean that his "i'm sorry" to me feels like...like I'm not a real person so my 'hurt' is kind of vague and theoretical to him. OK. Perhaps that was more confusing...
And Wonder Woman: I like that idea. Sometimes I just need to step outside of myself and get out of my 'this is my life' muck, you know? I think I may just take that bit of advice. Blondie brownies, mmmmmm.....
**Edited Post! I am a dork and typed "Saturday" instead of "Sunday" for church. Durrr. Thanks, BFF for pointing it out. Moco... ; )**
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
That pretty much sums it up.
"I can't seem to make it through Sundays. I can't seem to make it through Sundays. Monday through Saturday I get by just fine. Every other day of the week I feel all right, but, I don't know why--I don't know why..."
If you haven't heard of Lucinda Williams, well you should get to know her. She's a little bit rock a little bit folk a little bit country. I heart her. And I don't listen to country. My favorite albums by her are 'lucinda williams' and 'car wheels on a gravel road' and 'sweet old world'.
Sundays are hard for me. I don't know why. Perhaps it is because he isn't there with us. Perhaps it is because I'm trying to avoid people asking me where Beloved is. Perhaps it is that so much of what is said on any given Sunday can apply to my situation. And I think "He knows this. How is he so far past caring?!" Perhaps it is that there are people there who love me and my family (and Beloved) and who understand my struggle and I feel safe, then, to just...be. Perhaps it is just nothing I can put my finger on.
But I just have a hard time on Sundays. And I don't want to come home. And I don't want to see him when I'm already down. But it's Sunday. And he wants to be with our kids. And our kids want to be with their parents. So it is here.
Friday a friend brought me some beautiful, sunny flowers. I was grateful for them on Friday. They were bright and cheery. Sunday I was even more grateful, since they sat in the middle of the table and at dinner I didn't have to see his face.
It's just...how I feel on Sundays. Like I just want to curl up with my kids and hunker down in a blanket and go to sleep...until Monday, and not have to bother with Beloved. Just for the day.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Did you ever think that this whole blog, though a nice way to vent, is in fact a very real form of your own "covenant breaking"?!? You promised to be faithful to him... and though he hasn't done the same for you, it doesn't make it right...not so much in line with that whole "turn the other cheek" concept, ya know. You should blog in a written book... because there are a lot of people reading this that know who you are, no matter how anon the blog is... and that fact means that you are publicly defaming your 'Beloved'... so what if he ever wants to turn it around... now the whole world knows... or at least all the people closest to him... You are digging your own grave, sistah. I'd stop while I was ahead if I was you. you are very much ironic. just like the pharasies. gotta love them Utah (Colorado) Mormons!July 15, 2009 11:30PM
First of all, I must apologize for not noticing the comment sooner. I didn't have the email alerts set up to tell me of a comment until a few weeks ago, after your comment was posted.
Now, I'd like to address your comment: Holy cow.
I found this comment a week ago and it has bothered me every day since. For a few reasons. One is a petty reason, and that is that it sounds like you know me and know who knows me on here. Which makes me sad that you didn't think that you could just tell me your concerns, because I would have appreciated that very much.
Another reason it bothered me is because I didn't think of it as breaking my covenants. I didn't feel that I was publicly defaming Beloved, either. Though if that is what someone saw, then maybe it is true. I tried to be honest and yet still loving and not blast Beloved. Though I see now that those who love Beloved just shake their heads when reading this blog and say "wow, poor Beloved" and send love his way. But those who do not know Beloved might read this blog and want to blast him.
I will say, that I have asked Beloved twice (maybe three times? I have to think...) if I should stop my blog. Both times Beloved has said that he understands I need to express what I am feeling and that it doesn't bother him.
I agree that the people closest to him know about the blog. But the only people whom I have given the address for this blog (of people in Beloved's life) are family members whom I would personally have been open with (and some with whom he has been open regarding this affair), and three very close friends (whom Beloved also knows about). It is out of concern for Beloved's embarrassment that I have not until a few days ago shared it with someone from my church. I can honestly say, however, that I do not truly know who reads this, as there have been some days when 50+ people stop by and I have no idea who they are. I just assume they are strangers...
I didn't think I was guilty of breaking my own covenants by keeping this blog. I really didn't. And if I have, then I am so terribly sorry. It is not what I ever meant to happen. I think that is clear. I hope that is clear. I am really trying to do everything right in this whole situation. I know that I am not perfect, and I see now that I have been failing more than I realized.
And for this reason, and also out of concern for your (very valid) point that what if Beloved wants to come back...etc., I am changing this blog's format/mood/content.
I will be going into my archives over the next few days and deleting some posts or portions of posts and summarizing them so as to give Beloved a little more privacy.
I will be shifting my focus from reporting and then telling about my feelings--to Just Me. It'll all be about me! (ok, that was supposed to be funny, but somehow it falls a little flat...)
I'll write this with an eye for...well, exactly what my subtitle says "and LDS woman's journal through her husband's infidelity"...I'll talk about my experience and feelings. Where I have to bring Beloved into things, for explanation, I might. I might not. We'll just have to see.
I must admit, that I started out with that goal. But as I wrote, and as people began to read (people who don't know Beloved) I felt like I had to justify why I am fighting for him. I felt like I had to show his words and his choices so I could explain why I know he is not himself right now. I really did. Perhaps I am a fool. Well, yeah. I think that is pretty obvious. BUT I mean, perhaps I was fooling myself in thinking that is what I was doing.
So no more. I really do love Beloved. And if he decides he wants to make things right, I want him to have the opportunity to do so. Without feeling like everyone and their uncle know his mistakes.
And, as I was talking to the Bishop Sunday about this 'need to justify' feeling, he said something that I've known for a long time, but never have been able to quite live: Don't worry about what other people think. Their opinions are colored by their personal experiences and the experiences of those around them. No one is YOU. No one knows what you have to do but you and God.
And so I have to apologize publicly, here, to Beloved. And to anonymous. And to anyone else I may have offended by blogging my heart out, here. I am sorry for not protecting Beloved as I should have. I am sorry that there are many posts that read like the script from a soap opera and not like a journal of my feelings. I hope you can forgive me and know I totally did it without thinking of the problems it might cause. And I will try to make it right, in whatever way I am able.
OK. So, talk is cheap. Now I need to act. I'll be going through my posts soon. For now, it is the middle of the night and this was weighing on me, so I needed to get up and get it out. I'll be going back to bed, now.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Although, now that I think of it...Desperado...
Oh. Man, am I going on a tangent today or what?
I've been taking it easy the past few days. I have enjoyed the peaceful feeling I have felt. I'm not looking for it to go away any time soon.
And yet, I wonder. How long can this last? But I've decided not to marr the peace I feel by worrying how long until it goes away?
I've felt this before. It's a calm before a storm. So I'm going to enjoy it. Enjoy my kids. Rest up. Rejuvenate myself for the next step in this process.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Monday two angels-on-earth came by to see what I needed. When I said nothing, they said, 'no, really. what can we do.' and I thought about how I feel so overwhelmed at the idea of trying to get the house back in working order again. And they said, "That's what we thought. You need some peace. How about we get some people over here tomorrow?" Ok. I'm totally paraphrasing. But it was something like that.
It was badly in need of a good scrub down, let me tell you. On one hand it was terribly embarrassing to have them come in and clean my house. And terribly humbling to allow them in the first place. I haven't done any housework since I found out all of this was going on. And even in June my house was beginning to look like I'd have to pray the health board doesn't stop by.
So imagine how it looked after weeks of me feeling no desire to clean. No brain power to waste, er, spend (can someone teach me how to do the crossing out type?!) on organization or, you know, anything.
Think "How Clean Is Your House?" I know. It's disgusting. I used to watch that show and think, "I'd never let my house get like that." and yet, here I was.
The most embarrasing thing was when one of the ladies (super awesome and one of those people who I just know has never had a layer of dust or...other stuff...anywhere in her home) was cleaning the floor in my room and asked if I had a pet because the floor had so much hair on it. I was too embarrassed to say that my hair has been falling out by the handful lately. (I'm nursing and under stress. you do the math) So I told her no, but that we did used to. Which we did. But not for a long time. I was just so mortified. I know. I hate that I lied about it. But, seriously, I haven't vacuumed that floor in months. And there was enough to... I dunno. I'm tired, people. I can't think of what I'd do with about a gallon of hair... OK. Not that I'd actually do something with a gallon of hair...I'm not a lunatic.
OK. And there go some of my readers right now. **waving bye-bye sadly**
Anyway. They cleaned every bit of my home. And didn't leave until I had dealt with the piles. They were just what I needed.
Thank you to the women who came to my home. Miss S, Miss Ad, Miss R, Miss Ma, Miss An, Miss Mi, Miss T. I love you all. I know you don't read this, but here is a little love being sent out into the universe on your behalf.
**the sound of a big kiss**
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
All afternoon I felt peaceful. Then I started to panic. 'Why do I feel peaceful? Why aren't I freaking out? Shouldn't I feel sick to my stomach?'
And then I thought, 'Ok, Gigi, if you are feeling peaceful, it is a gift from Heavenly Father, so just take it and be thankful for it.' And so I was. I still prayed for my kids. I still asked you all for your prayers. (Thank you for them!!!)
But tonight, my children were at peace as well.
Beloved expressed his love for them and then explained that he is living at a friend's house. That he moved some things over there while we were gone and that he will be sleeping there from now on and that if they want him to, he'd like to come over every day, and if they don't want to see him, he won't come over, and if they are scared and want him in the middle of the night, he'll come then, too.
Big Girl kept looking back and forth at me and him. I just tried to send her love, because I was most worried about her. Big Boy just sat and listened quietly. Beloved said that they can ask him questions any time and if they feel like being alone they can tell him, and if they are angry they can tell him that, too. Big Girl asked, 'when are you coming back?' And Beloved answered, 'I don't know. I just don't know.' And Big Girl said, 'ok.' He reminded them that he loves them and this has nothing to do with how much he loves them, etc.
Big Boy said, 'ok.'
Big Girl said, 'ok.
Baby Girl (4) twirled around the room. (Beloved had to repeat the conversation with her later, as she wasn't listening at all.)
Baby Boy (1) is too young to know anything.
After the talk was over and a little while later I was alone and I prayed because I was confused (see, I'm a little thick sometimes) that they weren't crying and all. And I felt like, for a moment I could feel what their hearts felt like and I could feel that Heavenly Father had done for them what he had done for me that first night and had cushioned their hearts and held them up so it doesn't hurt so bad.
Big Boy seemed releaved to know what was going on. Big Girl, I am going to watch, but I think she had a feeling it was coming. There have been things she has said to me. I should post about that, shouldn't I? (Note to self...)
Do I think that there will be times that they cry and carry on and are angry? Sure. Heck, I do it, why shouldn't they? But I am thankful for right now. I think that is all I can really do right now: Be thankful for the blessings when they come, and then face the next challenge. It's pretty much new every day.
I want to thank you all for your love and prayers. I really feel them.
So, I signed on to FB and I saw that little number up in the top that means you have something in your inbox...don't you love that?! I totally do.
Anyway. I open it up and see HER face staring at me. She sent me a message. This is what it said:
No need to have FIL do your dirty work. I am sure he has better things to do other than monitor me and cc you. I have deleted him from my friend list. By the way thank you so much for having your friends and family (whoever it was) send me those lovely texts...Not sure that I was aware that good mormon people talked that way....
I responded with this, because I did not know what the heck she was talking about at the time (I had just signed on):
Hi, um, I don't understand about FIL doing my dirty work. Didn't YOU seek out the friendship with him?
I'm sorry if the text hurt your feelings. But you have to admit, what you are doing (being a homewrecker, adulterer, etc) is disgusting and by all standards wrong.
As for the language. I am not sure what was said. I am assuming you were called a slut or something. Sorry about that. Obviously I have no control over my friend's language than I have over my husband's actions. ;)
I feel I need to interject here with an explanation that someone asked for her cell phone number. I gave it to that person in a weak moment. Then when Beloved decided (yes, as much as he doesn't see it, he decided) to go to LA after I explained that he wouldn't have a family to return to, I said, 'ok.' and that person used daughter's boyfriend's cell to text Shannon. (Incidentally, he's not LDS--not like THAT matters...I know a few people LDS or Non who could make Sailor's blush!) I wonder if he sent more after the first text was sent from the other person...?
Then I saw my FIL had emailed me with "oops" and then I went back to FB and saw his message there, which said that he was going to unfriend 'said person' but then thought about it and decided that since she sometimes posts stuff he'd just watch and see what she does. And if he has a conversation with her, he'd let me know what was said. So then I understood what she was talking about and sent her this:
Oh. I just saw the comment Dad put in response to my wall post. Now I understand. And you have misunderstood what he and I talked about. I didn't want him to un-friend you and I didn't want him to monitor you. I just wasn't sure what the nature of your relationship with him was, and that is what happened.
Truly, I don't want to spy on you. I don't even have any malice toward you. Others, now...that I cannot account for. As you, apparently, can attest to (the text you received).
But YOU--I pray for. YOU I hope find peace. And of course I pray for the same for my husband.
Let her go on about what a b*&#$ I am.
Let her do whatever.
I know who I am.
This is what I found upon opening FB again:
I knew this day would come and I refuse to get into a verbal war with you. I don't have the time or the interest. I don't make decisions for Beloved nor do I have control over his actions.
As far as the name calling...it's merely name calling. But, you in fact gave them my number for reasons only to harass me....You should have just text me yourself or better yet called me.
I know what kind of person I am and I don't have problems sleeping at night. It's too bad actually, you will never get the chance to know ME for who I am and I will never get the opportunity to know YOU for who you are. I do feel that we both are good people and life has not turned out the way we had planned for it to. Funny thing is...I might could have actually got along with you had we met under different circumstances....
Are you truly sorry for your sister calling me a diseased cunt, dirty whore and that I will rot in hell? I can't imagine you are so please don't apologize for something that you don't mean.This will be the last time you hear from me. You can send all the texts, chats, etc. that you need to in order to make yourself feel better. They really don't phase me...Good Bye! :)
Now. I Know I probably should have just ignored that, but this is what I wrote.
Just remember. I didn't contact you. You contacted me. I'm not in for a war of any kind.
And yes, that was a disgusting thing to call you. I am sorry for it. I am glad we will have no further contact. And if you can sleep at night, that is good.
Still praying for you.
I don't understand how she thought I was in for a 'verbal fight'. I thought my response was honest and kind.
Another weird thing: I felt like I had read that letter before. Especially the whole 'we could have been friends under different circumstances' and 'you don't know the real me' parts. But it was just, icky deja vu.
Monday, August 10, 2009
She helped me see that there may be something more to it and that it is easy enough just to wait for FIL to return my call or call him again to find out what exactly is going on with him friending her on FB. (also, thank you to all the commenters who reminded me of the same thing. sorry you don't get credit, Ash beat you to the punch. *wink*)
OK. sorry I had to take another moment to breathe.
So FIL called me and I was able to talk to him for the first time about this whole...Beloved and me...thing. I don't know what else to call it.
He said that SHE requested to be his friend and he answered back, "Sure, Now, who are you?" and she said something about being from C...the town they lived in when Beloved went to High School.
He swears he hasn't talked to her or had any kind of conversations with her beyond that. I don't know if I totally believe him, but I want to. So I'm kind of torn.
We did have a very nice talk. I told him why it upset me so, that I don't know what is going through his head and is he thinking, "oh, my new daughter, I guess I'll get to know her..." Which kind of surprised him. He told me not to think that. And then we talked for a little while longer. He asked me what is happening now, since he hasn't talked to Beloved in a long time. I told him.
I felt better after talking to him. I am not sure if he won't try to contact her now, but I can't exactly stop him from doing it. Like we all know, agency is agency. The only one I can control is me. So there we have it. At least he knows that I feel it would be a betrayal for him to begin a relationship with her now. And how I feel in general.
Sweet thing--he said he felt so blindsided by this. I said, 'yeah. me, too!'
Beloved was (and I know inside--deep--he still is) the most incredible man. Good and loving and giving and kind and genuinely wanted to do what was right and what was pleasing to God. Two friends stopped by today. Both of them said the same thing, that they would have been less shocked and surprised if their own husbands had done this, than Beloved. They could not understand how Beloved would do this.
And neither can I in some ways. But some days...some moments I can see things--just glimpses--so clearly. And I feel like we are right where we are supposed to be: In the refiner's fire. But do we make it out of the fire purified and gleaming? I hope so.
The hardest part of this is seeing the pain in his eyes. Those moments when he lets me in...like tonight. And I just want to lie down and weep for him.
It is like...I feel as though...
I have witnessed an angel fall.
It has come to my attention that there has been a SEVERE oversight on my part.
When discussing my trip (you know, the one where I got away to keep my sanity) I neglected to tell you all that I first stayed with some super people who I am related to. But that isn't what makes them super. No, they are super all on their own. And especially one. You know her, but I won't out her here if she doesn't want that. Ahem.
It is she and her darling daughters who introduced me to Baby Mama and the joys of So You Think You Can Dance (which I never saw until we watched it together). Yeah. I'm a little obsessed with SYTYCD now. So, thanks for that.
She let me talk when I needed to let stuff off my chest, and she just loved me the rest of the time. Which is exactly what I needed. She really has been an angel to me. Her whole family. Seriously, people. I am so blessed.
Hugs to you. (You know who you are!)