I'm home. Drove in late last night. Beloved was at the house waiting for us (I had told him we were coming).
Walking into the home made me feel ill. It felt so empty and cold, though it was probably 80 degrees inside (we have no central air). I was OK seeing Beloved, though I will admit I was nervous to see him. It wasn't that bad. Or would've been easier if I could just shake that weird feeling in my home.
It wasn't until two hours later, as the kids were in jammies and we were reading scriptures as a family and prayed that I realized what the empty feeling was. And I realized it because I felt the moment that it shifted back into feeling like my home. The Spirit had left my home in our absence. It was such a tangible thing when it/he (I never know the right pronoun there) reentered my home. Then I felt peaceful again.
The kids were so excited to see Beloved. But Beloved was even more happy to see them. He would periodically grab the closest child up into a bear hug and not let go for a long while. I must admit I was glad to see it...that he missed them.
We talked after the kids were in bed and before he left. I reiterated that I don't hate him. He said he didn't think that anymore, but that he has thought that. And I asked when and he said when I have hit him or gotten angry at him. I told him that there is a difference between rebuking him and hating him. Then he said that he just thinks I should hate him. And I said, "I think the only person who hates you...is you." Because noone in MY family hates him. Are they disappointed and have their hearts been broken by one they loved, admired and trusted so deeply? Yes. But not one of them hates him.
I asked him if he is happy and he said, "No."
And I asked, 'why not' and he said, "I'm not miserable. Being without the kids was miserable. But. There's just no way I can ever be truly happy again. You can't have everything you want."
To which I replied, "Especially if one of them is a bad thing."
He kind of smirked at that, like he was thinking, 'yeah, i know you think that, but you don't know what i know'.
And then I asked him if he thought his relationship with her is a good thing.
And he said, "What do you mean, 'good'? Is it of God? No. Because I can never have with her what I have with you. (I need to clarify on his behalf that what he meant was an eternal marriage--being married in an LDS temple) But, when you are so miserable and then something makes you happy. Isn't that a good thing?"
So I said, "You were miserable?"
And he said "Yes"
And I asked for how long and he responded, 'for a year and a half, maybe two years'
And I asked him why he never said anything. To which he responded that he tried, or thought he did. Then he felt the need to clarify that he wasn't blaming me for it. Which is good, because I know this isn't about me. And I told him so. He kind of looked funny which made me think he didn't quite mean that he didn't blame me. Just that he didn't want me to feel that he was blaming me. You get the difference?
Then I asked him what made him so unhappy. I could list a handful of things that I think were making him unhappy, but he only pointed to one: his job. Long story short his company is really poorly run and even though he is the best at what he does, they continually screw him over. It gets kind of tiresome to be overlooked continually, or flat-out mistreated. Then he added, 'and then there were things that I felt I should have been getting from home and I wasn't' and then he looked at me and said, again, 'I'm not saying it's your fault'
To which I responded, "Good. Cuz I know that it's not."
And he looked at me (with that weird look again) and said, "you do? good. because I'm not saying that I blame you in any way for this"
But here I must interject "Methinks thou dost protest too much". Am I right? BTW, I know I misquoted that, but just deal with it, people. Back to what I was saying: It sure seems like for someone who 'doesn't blame me' he keeps mentioning it. And even if he doesn't realize he's blaming me, I am pretty sure he is. Because when I said, this:
"And even if there was something I wasn't giving you that you needed, it is still your responsibility as my husband to say something. Because, really, our happiness is kind of our responsibility."
...he looked like he didn't know what to think. Then he said, 'yeah i guess that's true', though unconvincingly.
See, I am pretty sure he compares me to Shannon pretty regularly in his mind. I mean, think about it. If I wasn't giving him what he needed, but she, by virtue of 'just knowing' every morsel of his soul, can give it to him, then it is a failing on my part and therefore MY fault. Am I right?
See, the thing is. I'm not buying into that. I don't think it is my failing at all. Because part of being in a relationship is opening yourself up to that other person. And that takes effort. And that he 'didn't even want to' do that with me...well, that isn't exactly my fault. It's his. Because I'm an open book to him, and I like to think that my heart would have been a safe place to entrust all those 'dark parts' of him that he thought would be so scary to me. Please. I don't think he realizes the things I know about him. There is nothing that he doesn't now know about me, and that is because I trusted him and shared myself with him. Well, maybe that's not accurate to say. Because now he has no idea who I am. Anymore.
OK. So, I'm a little emotional. I think I'm allowed to be right now. I just watched the preview for 'the time travelers wife'. I loved the book. But dangit, the preview just made me cry. I don't know. When she said, "What do you want to talk about? How bad it feels to sit here and wait for you?" I just crumbled.
You see. Before I left, before I took that running leap (I'm sure there will be many more to come) to get away and--I know I keep saying it, but--breathe again--Before I did that he left. He fasted and prayed Sunday and in the end he felt the answer he received was that he needs to know what it is like to live without his kids. When he said it I actually felt good about it. Mainly because I knew I was leaving in just two days...without telling him...and I felt immediately (once he told me he was going to leave that night after the kids fell asleep) that it was better that he did the leaving first. I can't ever let him think that I did the leaving or that I forced his hand in any way. This has to be ALL HIM. His choices.
Anyway. He left that night. Sunday night. In the middle of the night Big Boy woke up and came into my room. I sleep with a body pillow. That night I had shoved it into the bed where Beloved sleeps. When Big Boy came in I shoved it further under the covers and hoped he thougth it was daddy. Then I thought, "how sick is this?! this is what Beloved wants me to keep up until he decides what he wants for real?!" So he knows now that he will be explaining to the kids (in a way that they can understand--and I'll be there) that he is living somewhere else and why.
I'm not looking forward to that. He's out of town visiting his big brother and sister-in-law. They just found out what is going on and are being Switzerland right now. I'm glad for it.
We'll tell the kids Tuesday night. Ugh. Pray for my kids. And me. And him, that we can say the words...those awful words...in ways that they can understand. And pray that it won't crush them.
I don't know what will happen next. How often he can come over. He says he wants to be here every day. But, I don't know that the kids will want to see him every day. I don't know anything right now.
I'm getting nervous and my heart starts to race just thinking of Monday night, having to wait one more time for the kids to fall asleep so that he can creep out of the house.
Because--and now I can't even see the screen to type. Because I don't want to have to keep saying goodbye over and over again. I don't want to have to keep being left. And I feel like watching him leave those few nights that I have had to...just crushes me a little bit more. Is it going to be like this every night until he decides to flee to Cali to be with her? I don't know. I don't want it to feel that way. I want to...not...care, I guess.
And yet, how do I not let it hurt me, and still. be. me?
Twelve Days of Boots: Day 9 by The Pioneer Woman
7 hours ago