Pit

It doesn’t feel right when you care for someone- when their emotions matter to you- and you know that your actions are hurting them. Even if you’re only engaging in those actions to protect yourself. It still doesn’t sit well and it shouldn’t. When you care for someone it still gnaws at you, that in protecting yourself, you’re hurting someone that you care about.  

I see the weariness in my husband’s face. I know he’s wondering how long this latest cold front against him is going to last and I want to reach out, but I can’t. I know everything outwardly about me shows indifference towards him but inside I feel waves of emotions- I love him. I want to comfort him, but I’m afraid to.  I want to cross over this massive gulf and believe that it’s safe on the other side with him but I’m terrified to do that.  I want to create and live in these new moments but it’s very rare that I can experience anything new with him without feeling the taint of his old, sordid life. 

I know this pit that I’ve curled up in to so well by now. I’ve spent so much time in it. It’s on my side of the massive gulf, and behind the large, thick wall. It’s here that I go running every time the offensive trigger is too much. When the mind movies of him and her are so clear.  It’s where I go to ensure that the distance between him and I is safe enough for me. 

After the affair- this is where I feel the most safe now. This is the one place I know I won’t get hurt. It’s sad and lonely but it’s safe. It’s my place. He can never come here. He can never taint this place. I know I can’t stay here forever and I won’t,  but in this pit I can heal once again. I can recover and build myself up. I can cycle through my grief again.

 I  know he’s sorry. I know he’s hurting. I’ll get back to him. His sadness weighs on me but for now – in my pit- the only person that matters is me.

Advertisements

Grief

My father in law passed away late  last week and this week we had his funeral and burial. It’s been a crazy month. It’s been one of the most difficult months since Dday- and because I use Dday as a defining event in my life, I quickly realized that my father in law’s burial took place exactly 19 months after D- day.

I hope to write more about all this later but right now I’m just frustrated over how I can’t even grieve his death properly because ALWAYS, ALWAYS there is the stupid affair!

I think I’ve done a good job being there for my husband. But I have struggled with so many things privately though. I have shared some of it here on the blog — but shit, there is no shortage of awful reminders about the worst time of my life!

I hate this situation and all the pain it still causes. There are reminders everywhere to bring my grief back up.  I needed to get some foundation and went to Sephora- walking through it though, all I could think about was that my fucking husband had been in this very same fucking store buying fucking perfume for the fuking whore. This was the mall he had done all his holiday shopping for her – store after store – and then came home and lied to me right in my face!  I can’t even go home to see family without being reminded of how little he thought about me and how little he loved me.

Watching tv is such a trigger at times too.  We were watching Family Fued this week and one of the questions was – where would people who work together go to have sex. So of course I immediately think of my husband and his whore and I hate this. I hate it.

I’ve gotten so much better at talking myself away from me the edge of this cliff and of listening to my husband when he tries to talk me away from it too but I  hate how often I still find myself teetering at the edge of it. I didn’t ask for any of this but I suffer so much because of it.  He suffers because no matter how much he does- he can never make it right! And it’s true. He was a fucking sleezebag asshole and every fucking reminder feels like the affair is being rubbed in my face again and again and I hate it.

All I want from this time is to grieve my father in law. But I can’t even do that! One of the things that my husband told the whore is that maybe they could be together when his parents die. Apparently he knew they wouldn’t be welcoming a whore with open arms and though my head and heart knows he loves me there is still a fear. A persistent, nagging voice that reminds me of these words he said to her and it breaks my heart!

Fucking edge!!! God please help me from falling in!