Just so you know, Crazy Train has come for me now, and there's really no holding back on the language. If it offends, please move on to the next blog.
He's home from work, and went downstairs to his office. I followed. He sat in a chair far from me, I sat in his office chair, knees pulled up to my chest, my arms wrapped around my legs.
"I'm done." he said. Those words caused my head to swim. "No." I said. "It's over." He said. "No." I said. This was the beginning. The first time he's ever said anything like this. I'm swimming. I can't seem to come up for air. You don't end a marriage of 20 years, three children, by saying "I'm done." What the hell? I think of the past few days, we've been making love like rabbits, clinging to each other... what has changed??
We talk for hours. I cry for hours. He looks sad for hours. I talk about the kids, I talk about why he did what he did. I talk until I can't stand to hear my voice one more second. I'm trying so hard to understand why he is doing this. "Do you love her?" "I don't know what is going on." he said. "I can't talk to you."
"How can you even think you love this woman after only a little over a fucking week?" I scream. He hangs tight to, "I don't know what's going on." I ask, "Are you still talking to her??" "No, we are no longer talking." he said.
We go upstairs. He sits next to me on the couch, picks up his phone to play that fucking game. I see the ring on his finger flash in the lamplight. I'm almost obsessed with looking at it. I can't take my eyes off of it. I ask him, "I hate that that ring was anywhere near her, or touched her." He looked up from his game and said, "I took it off when I went to see her."
Annnd helloooo Crazy Train. It stopped, picked me up, and off we went at a very high speed. "What the fuck do you mean you took it off?!!" He just looked at me, like he thought that by taking it off to go be with her was a good thing. I think he actually thought he did something right. I said, "You took your ring off, went to see her, and put it back on before you came home?!" "Uhh. yeah?"
I don't even remember what I said. It was like a kick to the fucking stomach. I remember looking around the room, I remember feeling crazy. I remember throwing something into the kitchen, though I can't remember what. It made a mess though, I remember cleaning it up later.
I made it to the back porch, leaned over the railing, and threw up. This has now happened like three times, over an emotional outbreak. This has never happened to me in my entire life.
"Do you love me?" I cry. "Yes, I do. You know I do." He says. What the hell does that mean, I wonder. How is he doing this to us? How is he doing this to his family?
We make love again when we go to bed.. but this time is different. There's a roughness, an anger on his part, a very raw passion. It's confusing. I'm so confused.
I laid there that night, listening to him breathe. I moved next to him, pressed my face into his back, breathed in his so familiar scent. I could feel his body move with his heartbeat. I loved him. God, how I loved him. I will not let this man go. I will do whatever it takes to keep my family together.
My oldest told me earlier in the day, "There are 5 stages you will go through, Mom." He tells me of the 5 stages of grief.
Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.
I wondered... what stage was I at? So far, I'm in denial that he's done with the marriage. How can I take that serious when he keeps making love to me? I haven't really gotten angry at him, not really. I'm not depressed... Definitely not accepting... but I'm starting to wonder if I'm bargaining. I will not say no to him. Am I bargaining with my body? I can't help but wonder. Are there rules to this '5 stages of grief'? Do they go in order?
And I can't help but remember that it's only been three days at this point. I'm on the train ride now. I can't get off.
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