The day I got aboard the Crazy Train

It's Wednesday now.  Only 3 days past DD.  It already feels like a lifetime at this point.

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.

The days after DDay

DD was on a Sunday night going into Monday morning.  

I went to work that Monday morning, and sat at my desk, dazed.  I had not slept.  I'm way to old to be pulling an all nighter. I can't believe I've gone to work.

I'm sitting at my desk, and a co-worker comes in and sits down and talks about her weekend.  At one point, I looked over at her, and I remember her gasp.  She said, "Oh, what is wrong?"  I said, "I didn't sleep last night.  I need to find some coffee."  She asked why I had not slept.  I just looked at her, I felt like I was standing next to myself, I didn't feel real.  It didn't sound like my voice when I answered her.  "My husband has a girlfriend."  She was shocked.  She asked what was going on.  I told her what I knew.  I showed her the text between the OW {Other Woman} and I just minutes before.  

It's so fresh at this point.  I'm in some kind of weird shock.  I don't even remember driving to work.  But I looked at her as I was talking about the discovery.  I looked at her, and I said, "This is horrible.  I'm in shock, but I KNOW why it happened.  I can see it, I can feel it.  I even understand why."

We had just gone through a foreclosure.  It was an extremely long process, and it was terrifying to go through.   He had always provided well, made very good money, ran his own business.  We bought at the height of the market, and when the recession hit about 6 years ago, it hit us very hard.  We went from 6 figures a year to almost nothing.  It hit him hard.  We both carried the weight of uncertainty, and fear of being homeless with three children, but he carried it harder.  He held the most weight.  

That was one of our problems there, we were both under so much stress, but we didn't talk to each other about it.

Not only were we facing this foreclosure, but in knowing that it was going to happen, we rented a small, very old, farm house.  It needed a lot of work, so much work that it was a year of working on it to make it livable before we moved in.  When we foreclosed, we moved into the farm, and right around that time, his brother had a massive heart attack.  He was his partner at work, his brother, his friend.  His brother pulled through, but it's a miracle that he did.  

He wasn't the same after that.  I watched him shutting down.  I did not know how to reach him.  I watched him shrink under the weight of all that was going on around him.  I did not even know how to talk to him.  My life was insanely busy with the kids.  I was running them everywhere, they are all involved in so much activities.  Between work, and the kids, and my husband who was disappearing before my eyes, I was lost.  I saw it.  I tried to talk to him, but I'm sure it came out to him as bitching and nagging.   I felt like I was raising the kids alone, running everywhere, every day, and he was literally sitting on the couch playing an iPhone game.  

Hours he played that game.  On weekends?  He played that game 15+ hrs a day. Past midnight or later on weeknights.  I went to bed by myself every single night.  He started sinking money into the game.  I was annoyed, and honestly, confused.  I wouldn't do that, so I couldn't comprehend him doing it.  If I was sitting at one of the kids events, I would be cheering them on, and he would have his face in that game.

He picked that game up around the same time his brother had a heart attack... So as pissed off as it made me?  I sort of understood.

I definitely got bitchy.  I got bitchy, and I got lonely.  I started resenting.  But I didn't voice it all the time.  I would go about my life, and it would build internally.  It would get let out about once a month.  I would bitch about the game, I would bitch about yard work, or that we didn't do anything as a family anymore.  I would bitch, but I would bitch nicely.  I knew he was going through something, so my bitch would be not as raging as I felt inside.

He felt like I was a nagging, bitch of a wife.  I could not see at the time that his world had taken a serious hit.  His EGO had taken a hit.  He's never relied on anyone for anything. He rarely talks. I think he felt like he lost our home, and I think he felt some kind of awareness at the near death of his brother.  It's not usual for someone in our age range to have that type of heart attack.   

So, I told her.  My co-worker... I told her.  "I KNOW why it happened.  I can see it, I can feel it.  I even understand why."  I tell her everything that he had been going through, that I think led up to this.

I told her, "This woman?  This other woman?  She has no children.  She represents relief to him.  There's no responsibility to her.  He doesn't have to provide for her, shelter her, take care of her.  I think he thinks he has failed me and the kids.   I have never, ever told him he failed us, I believe that feeling is inside of him.   I have held on to him during the last couple of years, trying to make him understand that I don't care about losing the house, we could live in a goddamn box for all I care, as long as we are all together.  A house doesn't make a family, the people do."

She asked me, "How long has it been going on?"  I said, "I don't know.  We were up all night, and he kept denying there was anyone else."  I told her how I found out he lied that morning, with the other phone, and him admitting it once he saw I messaged her.   I said, "I know nothing else right now."  So I picked up my phone and texted him.  I asked, how long?  He didn't want to talk to me at work.  I said, "Fine, I'll just text her and ask."  He replied right away.  "A week."  he said.

I was dumbfounded.  What?!  A week?  I pulled up the info I could on that phone, and damn, he was telling the truth.  They exchanged phone numbers around the 10th of September.  11 days.   I started replaying every single second of the past 11 days.  Every second, every moment, every single word we spoke to each other replayed through my head.

Is that normal?  I don't know.  Someone please tell me if that's normal, or if I'm the only one.

I have since nicknamed it, "The Timeline"  I replayed the timeline a million times.  I realized that the previous Tuesday, he had gone out that night, and was supposed to be with friends.  I knew he was with her.   

I checked her facebook.  I looked at that Tuesday... She posted that she was leaving work early, and was excited.  By that time, it was only 5 days into them 'talking.'  I was so pissed.  

She had all this other stupid shit on her facebook page, too.  She had these dumbass pictures posted that said shit like, "Having a deep conversation with someone is the new making love"  "You're the one I couldn't forget even at the last breath I take.  You're the one my heart longs for because I found real joy in you."  "Date someone who gives you chills just by the way they look into your eyes"  I was sick to my stomach. 

When we got home from work, the questions started.  He refused to answer anything that night.  That was Monday, and like I said in the previous blog, we ended that night in each others arms, wrapped around each other all night.  

I slept, but not well. I felt like my heart rate was never going to slow down, and my stomach was in knots.  I hadn't eaten since Sunday morning.

When I woke up the next day, I was feeling a little frisky, so I woke him up with my hands.  We made love again, and once again, I battled internally, trying to figure out my actions.  I don't understand how or why I would want to touch him, or have him touch me.  What was going on?

But it wasn't long into the morning before I started in on the questions again.  Needing to know everything I could.  When did it start?  It's only been 11 days, how many times could you have possibly seen each other?  Have you talked since I found out who she is?... on and on.  

He's making coffee, looking at me sadly.  He answers.  "We've seen each other 3 times.  I went to her work twice, we had lunch both times."  "Yes, I went to her house that Tuesday night, we just talked, I promise."  "We have not spoken since yesterday when I called her and she was angry."   

I flew out of the house.  (I will spend a lot of time over the next 9 months flying out of the house like a crazy person)  I couldn't breathe.  I was crying like an idiot.  I know damn well he did not go to her house just to talk.  I started yelling, "You fucked her!  You fucked her!"  He grabbed me, holding on tight, he said, "Sometimes you need something from someone that's not sex, I did not have sex with her."  He held me tight for a long time, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

We went to work.  I just sat at my desk again.  Dazed, sick, tired.  Needing coffee.  My friend came in, I filled her in on the details that I had.  "No." She said, "I don't think they hooked up, he didn't do it.  You found out before it happened, I think.  You guys can work this out, you'll be OK."

My facebook posts by this time were bordering on some violence.  Not like me at all.  I'm usually pleasant on FB, and stay out of drama.  I definitely checked out her page, she had some dumbass post about wearing some ugly boots to work and kicking some ass around there.  I believe I sprained my left eye rolling it when I read that stupidity.

But, it was like 2 minutes later when she blocked me.  Oh well, there went my stalking ability.  

But MY posts were so not like me, that my best friend texted me and asked me if I was alright.  No.  I replied.  No.  So I filled her in as much as I could.  We had off the next day (Wednesday) so she asked me to come over, and talk.  

She's not only my friend, but she's his too.  Her and her husband, and me and mine did a lot of things together over the past decade.  She knew my husband, and was very shocked that this was happening, and that he did something like this.  

Tuesday night brought more questions, more tears, more love making.   Still not much sleep for me, and I still couldn't get any food down.  At that point I have not eaten since Sunday still.  Only about 5 total hours of sleep.

The next day, Wednesday, I'm off work, and I'm having trouble getting off the couch.  I start playing "Titanium" and I can't stop crying.  My oldest, who pretty much knows exactly what is going on at this point, walks by and leans down for a hug.  "You'll be alright, Mom.  You'll be alright."  Kisses my cheek and goes back to his room.   

My friend texts me, she says, "Where the hell are you, get over here."  I almost don't go.  I feel so weird... no sleep, no food, my heart rate is insane.  But I go.  We spend the afternoon talking about it, she's shocked it's only been a week for them, she also assures me that she doesn't think they slept together either.   I needed that time with her, I felt better.  She told me to go home and sleep and eat.  
I wanted to, but didn't.  He comes home from work.  He goes downstairs into his office.  He doesn't say anything to me really.  

I go downstairs to him.  This night is a blur now.  Very foggy, and I don't know much of what happened.  But this is the day, the night, the moment, that I boarded the train to Crazy Town.  It's 9 months later, and I'm pretty sure I'm not getting out.  I want off this train ride so bad.  I want my life back.

Discovery Day 9-20-2015

For me, I feel like if I look over my shoulder, I see the past 9 months through a thick fog.  You may wonder why I would want to go back.  I feel like I need to.  I feel like I need to, so that when I turn back around and look forward, that I'm seeing a little more clear, and hope I'm not peering through fog.

This will be honest.  This will contain cussing, sex, anger, pain.  Just a forewarning.   I guess this will be long, boring, and read like a story.  I have to get it out. 

Before I begin the insanity, let me just give a quick background.  I've been with this man since I was 19 years old.  25 years together, 20 of them married.

This man was my everything.  My constant, my partner, an amazing father and he was my husband.

Now, I'm about to find out he's a little bit more.  He's a liar, a cheater, a bastard, betrayer, sneaky, cowardly chicken-shit asshole.  He's someone I no longer know.

He went on a camping trip with our sons.  It was the weekend of Sept. 18.  He got home on Sunday, the 20^th.  One of the first things I do when he gets back is ask for pictures.  He usually does not have a signal where he is when camping, so I wait patiently to see their adventures when he gets back.   There was a new kid on the trip this time, and since it was a pretty high adventure trip, I thought it would be awesome if that boys Mom could see pictures of her son climbing.

He had unpacked, I made lunch, he had a beer, his iPad, feet up, comfy pants on, football game on the TV.  He is sitting next to me.  I asked, “Hey, any pictures from the trip?  I know (new kids mom) would love to see her son climbing.”  He acted strange… mumbled a little something incoherent, then said, “Not that many this time.”  I just looked at him, and said, “Oh.  Well let me see what you have?”   I’m telling you, I could tell by the energy in the air, something was off.  He seemed nervous.  I was actually confused… and yet…. I knew.  Somewhere in me, I knew.  He picked up his phone, moved further away from me, and scrolled through the handful of shots as fast as he could.  I shook my head, confused, said, “What the hell?  I can’t see, slow down.  Gimmee your phone?”  He literally jumped up, grabbed his iPad, his phone, and said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

I knew.  I knew then.  I didn’t say anything.   He was in the bathroom for quite some time.  My heart was pounding in my chest.

He comes out, the game is heading into the second quarter.  He sits down.  I’m just sitting there next to him, acting like the game is the only thing on my mind.   I let about 10 minutes pass, and then said, “Can I see the pictures?”  He pulls up his phone, unlocks it, opens the photo album to the first picture, and hands me the phone to see the rest.   I smiled… looked through, commented on a few of them, and handed his phone back.

The boys stumbled into the kitchen to eat.  The oldest watched a few minutes of the game.  Small talk about the trip, the football game.  He mumbles something and he goes off to his room.  It’s half time now.   I picked up the remote, turned off the TV.   He says, “Hey!  Turn that back on!”  I looked at him.  I can still see his face.  I can still see the look in his eyes.  My heart was pounding so hard, I could hear it in my head, the room felt like it was dropping out from under my feet.  “Who is she?”  I said.

This man.  This man… the father of our three kids.  Our provider.  Our backbone, our strength, the center of my world… slumps down into the cushions of the couch, puts his fucking leg up on his knee, so that his face is hidden behind it… and says in a small tiny, unrecognizable voice, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I cannot tell you exactly what was said and what happened in the hours after that.  I remember that at one point, because the kids came into the living room, we started texting each other, that he literally texted me, “I want to be friends.”  But still denying there was someone else.  I remember him telling me that it was over between us for a long time, but still denying there was anyone else.  I was so confused.  How is he sitting here telling me its over?  Isn’t it over when you both know?  

I remember looking into the kitchen, and seeing a cast iron pan he had JUST bought me.  He had just taken me out, days before this, bought me antiques, took me to lunch, brought me home, made love to me.  He had just taken me to the movies, and it was a movie made from a book that we both loved, and both read several times.  We had been having an amazing connection for weeks leading up this night.  We had been making love, holding hands… smiling.  It was good.

I remember walking into the kitchen and picking up the pan.  I stood there holding it… it was an amazing gift, he knew how much I wanted the pan… this gorgeous 100 year old cast iron pan that seemed to fit right into our 200 year old farm house.  I looked at him, and stood there holding the pan.  He looked scared.  His eyes were big… I think he thought I was going to hit him with the pan.

I opened the back door and sent that pan flying into the field. 

I told him to get his shit and leave.  He swore again, “There is no one else, you’re crazy.”  But then went right back into what a horrible wife I was, and how it had been over between us for a long time. It was hours.  Hours of going back and forth with questions, denials, lies.

I remember climbing into the shower, I wanted to wash off the pain and confusion.   He was refusing to leave, so I decided I would.   It was closing in on midnight by this time. 

I remember getting into the truck and driving down the driveway.  I didn’t know where I was going.  I got to the end of the driveway, and I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t breathe…and I was going to be sick.  I opened the door, fell to my knees  and threw up.  I cried, I could hear this sad, unrecognizable wailing coming from me...I felt like I was crying from the bottom of my soul.  I climbed back into the truck, and after a minute or two, turned it around and headed back to the house.  He was in the driveway.  I stopped and picked him up.  He asked me if I was OK.  I cried.   He pulled me across the seats and into his arms, he whispered “You’re the only one I want.  I want you.”   I asked again, “Who is she?”  He swore again and again, “No one.”

I pulled up and parked, and sat there.  We went in.  More questions, more denying.  More crying.  I then remembered the pan… I didn’t want it to get ruined, the grass was wet.  I flew out of the house into the field to get it.  I found it, the moon was bright.  I remember falling to my knees, hugging that stupid pan, crying.  I heard him coming up behind me, I felt him picking me up, I felt him pulling me towards the house.  He got me inside, took me up to our room, undressed me and put me to bed like a child.  Was I in shock?  I couldn't seem to move.  Was I holding on to a small sliver of hope that he was being truthful when he said there was no one?  After all.. this entire evening is going on a feeling I had.  My soul knew though.  I knew.

He undressed, climbed in next to me, wrapped himself around me, and made love to me.  It was sweet, kind, slow, loving.  He buried his face in my neck.  He just kept telling me, “I want you.”  He fell asleep holding me tight.

He fell asleep easy.  I did not.  My stomach was wrecked.  It was in knots, my heart beat wouldn’t slow down.  I slid out of bed around 4am, picked up my iPad, went down to the couch.  I looked up his facebook page, I wanted to see what girl on there was liking pictures.  I looked up his Instagram.  I was looking for a pattern.  By 5 am, I had it narrowed down to two girls.  I wondered if I could look up our phone bill on the iPad, I didn’t want to turn my computer on, I didn’t want to wake him.  I couldn’t tip him off that I was searching for answers.  Turns out, I could.  There it was.  Two phone numbers repeating, and long conversations on both.  The times matched when he was out of the house, eating lunch… so on.  One was a cell phone number that had no search results.  The other was some business in the next town over.  As far as I knew, he was not getting any work done that would require that business.  I just knew.  But I didn't say anything as he came downstairs and got ready for work. 

I made coffee.  Sat on the deck, watched the sun come up.  He made coffee, checked on me, hugged me, told me he loved me.  He held on tight.  I cried.  He told me to have a good day.  He told me he loved me again.   The kids left for school.  They were looking at us strange.  They knew something was up, but had no idea what.

Finally, he left.  That's what I was waiting for.   I went to his night stand, grabbed his old iPhone, that he still used once in a while.  I knew, he may not have known at the time, but I knew that his iPad, his iPhone and his old iPhone all linked up together.

Within seconds, I had her name.  Funny, it was actually one of the two I had narrowed it down to.  I had actually wondered about this girl for a while.  Back in January, her husband died, and my husband went to the funeral.  He knew them.  She sent him a message not long after the funeral that I found sort of interesting, at the time, to be sending my husband so soon after hers had passed.  Back then, I checked out her facebook page, and found her annoying.  She posed with her dogs a lot, she showed her boobs, she was dripping in victim, narcissism and “poor me”.  She a shit ton of pictures of herself looking to the side.  (Nothing annoys me more.. bitch, don't act like someone else is taking the pictures)  It's the most annoying selfie, besides ducklips and dirty bathroom mirror pictures, that anyone can take of themselves.  But that's just my opinion.  Anyway, I digress.

  

It was her.  I could see the messages they sent to each other during the camping trip.  She sent him pictures, he sent her pictures.  She talked about letting her kids out… (her fucking dogs, who are not kids, she does not have children)  I was actually seeing red.  

I sent her a message on facebook:

I took this picture and sent it to him.  I doubt by this time he was even a half mile down the road from when he left for work.  

He replied, "Oh my god."  and then called me. He wanted to know how I found out.  I'm actually smiling a little at this point, because damn, I really did find out quick, and I am already on her ass. 

He and I hung up, and I texted her to the number I found on our phone bill:

(Yeah.  I have her in my phone as “the Whore” so what)

What else could she be to me?

So, she didn’t have anything to say to defend herself after I let her know I saw the messages and pictures between them over the weekend.

He and I talked all through the day.  He swore nothing happened between them.  He swore that it was over, and that he wouldn’t talk to her again.  He called her that day, and I could see it was a 15 minute call on the phone bill.   He told me she cried, yelled at him for lying to her, and that it was over.

I asked him, “What did you lie to her about?”  He said, “I told her our marriage was over”

I said, "Don't you think you should have told ME that before you went to another woman?"  He didn't answer.

He came home from work that day, hugged me, told me he was sorry.  He wrapped himself around me that night, and we made love again.  It was a crazy feeling, raw, passionate... desperation.  I was clinging hard, I couldn't lose him.  But he is the one that has initiated the sex over the past night and day.  I'm numb and so confused. How can I want him to touch me?  I'm internally battling the shit out of myself over this, but seem to have no control.

DDay...  It's the most clear day of the past 9 months.. and yet it's still foggy.  


If you would like to share your DDay, please feel free to do so.  Write and release, write and release. :)