March...and he left us AGAIN

March 2016

It's been a while.   But I remember this month like it was yesterday.

The end of February brought the knowledge that he was still talking to her through December.  He admitted they talked, only talked, through the end of December.  He said she was very angry with him when he came back home after leaving us right before Christmas.

He swore on everything he could that they didn't have a physical relationship.  He swore that it ended on Jan. 1st, when he came home.

I believed him.

But we fought.  We fought a lot.  He kept doing things that were painful, he kept me at arms length... Except in the bedroom.  We were not lacking there, and connecting like we have never before.   This was hard on me.  I loved our physical connection, but I could also tell he was still wanting to end it.

March 8th... We got into a fight in the yard.   I was so angry.  I picked up a plastic bucket and threw it at his work truck.  I wasn't thinking... It broke his windshield.  March 9th... I had made an appt. with a lawyer.  At this point, I was done.  I had been asking him to go, and he refused.  Even though I feel us parting, and separating... He will just not go.   We have begun having nights with the kids.  Even though under the same roof, Thursday's were his, Tuesday's mine... It was sad.  

I wanted advice from a lawyer, how do I proceed with separating, and how do I get him out of our house?   

I was heartbroken the day I went to see the lawyer.  The building had been sold, and it was now a law firm, but 11 years earlier, it was a real estate office, and I sat in the same room with the lawyer discussing how to divorce my husband, that I sat in 11 years before signing the papers on our first house.  

Bought a house in that room, and looking at a divorce in the same room a decade later.   I could barely breathe.

March 11th.. He asked me to go to dinner.  I went.    Remarkably?  He was sweet.  He changed almost over night.  He gave me his jacket, he held a door open for me for the first time in 25 years.   He laughed.  He held my hand.  

What was going on?  In my head, I was convinced he was just scared... If we split?  His child support and alimony was going to be significant.  Was that why he was being nice?

I didn't know... And honestly, I didn't care.  I welcomed the night, the change, the kindness.  He even told me he loved me.  It didn't last.

2 days later, he moved out again.  He left.  Again.  He packed his stuff and walked out the door.  He said that it was just a separation, a break.  He said we needed it, the fighting at this point was as bad as it could get.  I actually welcomed his absence.  I felt like I could breathe.    But he came back home a week later.  I actually wasn't ready for him to come back this time.  I was able to breathe a little.

March 25th, his band plays.  I go.  I ask him on the way there how they talked.  I didn't understand, I saw nothing on the phone bills, and I saw nothing on his phone.  I wanted to understand what app he was using to talk to her.  He refused to tell me.  We got to the venue he was playing at, and by this time, we are fighting.  He threw his phone at me, we scuffled, and he told me walk the fuck home.  We were literally in another state, but I headed out.    I made it about 7 miles away, and he got me.  The next day... Oh the next day....

I had what can only be described as a break down.  I literally felt it, something in me broke, I felt like my mind split and went crooked... There is no other way to explain it.   I cried.  I cried like I've never cried before.  I couldn't control it, I couldn't control the thoughts, the anger, the pain.  It had been almost relentless since September.  I literally could not take it any longer.   

When I came back, again, that's the only way to describe it, I felt drained and lost.  I felt physically weak.  I felt scared for myself, and my kids.  I had been all out bawling for hours.  I even picked up some broken glass that was in our barn, I had visions of just dragging it across my wrists... I wanted out.  I did not know how to hold it together.

He took the glass from me. I had lost my mind.  

I went to my family's house for Easter.  He didn't go.

April 2nd rolls around.  We are calm.  We spend that Saturday sitting on the couch in the living room discussing how we can separate.  We talk about how the kids' schedule could dictate who gets them and when.  We want to be open, friendly... We don't want to play games with the kids.   On this day, too, a friend of ours messaged him and told him she was sorry that we had separated.  I had long changed my Facebook status to separated... Lol... You know it's official when you change your status.   

He was actually a little shocked about that.  He didn't know, and I could tell as the day progressed, and the conversation about how we could separate continued, that he and I both were coming to the conclusion that it was over. 

He still swore up and down though that it had nothing to do with her, and that he had not spoked a word to her since New Year's Day.

I believed him.

I'm so lost

He left Sunday, Dec. 20th.

I picked myself up out of the driveway, and told the kids to get ready to go out, we are going for lunch.

I stayed out with them as long as I could, to come home to the empty house was an excruciating thought.  But we did, eventually, and I survived it.  For them.

I went to bed, but did not sleep.  I curled around his pillow, breathing in his scent, trying to comprehend what had happened.

I sent him a text, "Doors are locked, kids are OK, wood stove stocked for the night."  He replied, "Thanks."

Monday, I had to work.  I don't remember much.  He came to pick up the boys for scouts.  I just hugged him and didn't say much to him.  Tuesday, our daughter had a instrumental concert.  He came, he sat with me and our son, and he gave me a twizzler.  He had his ring on.   Just a side note... I never saw him without his wedding band on.

Tuesday night, it was unusually warm.  Our region is crazy.  Below freezing one day, warm and barefoot the next.  After the concert, my daughter and I sat on our porch with a lighted frosty the snowman, and just made small talk and joked around.  I did everything I could to lighten the mood.

I also realized I had not shopped for the kids.  What a mess I am.

Wednesday, I went shopping.  I remember screaming in the truck till I was hoarse.  How can I do this?  How can I put this together for the kids?  How can I shop for the very first time for my children without my husband?    But I did.  I was so lost.  So fucking lost.

Thursday, Christmas eve.  I needed to clean.  I cleaned until my muscles hurt.  We had to turn on the air conditioner, it was muggy and warm.  What a strange Christmas eve... I wrapped the gifts, shopped for food.   He texted me, "I have to stop by and drop off something for the kids, and what time do you want me to come over tomorrow."  I told him not to come over that night, that he can come over Christmas.   I didn't want to see him.  I'm holding it together, and I don't want to lose it.

My daughter and I packed up the dog, he's big, and took him to the local dog-wash... a brilliant invention I must say, it sits next to the local car wash, and it's just so convenient!   When her and I returned, he was at the house.

I came in, looked at him like he was crazy, and yet was secretly happy to see him.  So happy to see him.

He spent some time with our daughter, and the boys.  I pulled him into our room to talk, and he laid on the bed with his arm over his eyes.  I asked him how he was.  Small talk.  At one point, he mumbled, "Is this where you rape me?"  I had no intention, but at that point, I did ask..."Are you two seeing each other?"  "No." he said.  "I haven't spoken to her or seen her since you found out."  I believed him.  We started flirting a little, and he was grinning and actually laughing a little.  He told me to text him later, to send him a picture.

He left, and I waited a bit.  Sent him a text, and then sent him a picture that I knew he would like.  We texted a while back and forth.  He told me he would be coming over very early, before the kids woke up for Christmas morning.  I knew what he meant.

And he did.  I heard him around 5am.. he came up the stairs as quiet as can be, and came into our room and locked the door behind him.

Christmas day was nice.  Weird, but nice.  We did presents, we were sort of normal.  But then he left again.  It rained that day.  I stood in the driveway, in the rain, watching him drive away.  He didn't want to stay for dinner.  I couldn't cook.  I stumbled into the house, fell on the couch.  I apologized to the kids, I was so sorry I couldn't seem to cook.  What a loser I am. They were OK, we ate light, and stuck to each others side.  

9pm rolls around, and I get a text from him.  It says, "I don't know how you can out do the picture you sent last night."  So, I did.  I out-did it.  But my heart was not in it, I was playing the game and trying to get him to come home.  We had an interesting texting, facetime, phone conversation for a few hours... it ended with him telling me to make sure my bedroom door was unlocked for the next morning.   He stopped by again, early.  5am.  Came in, locked the door behind him.

He spent the rest of the day at the house.  He worked on his work van, I cooked for him and brought it to him.  He enjoyed every bite, told me that I was an amazing cook, and that was the best lunch he had ever had.  He dropped little lines here and there, about the possibility of him coming home soon, he missed me, he missed the kids, he missed our animals.  I didn't push.  I just went on about my day.  Around 3, he left again.   We didn't text that night...not the way we had been.  We did talk a little, but not much.  Sunday found me looking at the Christmas tree and decorations around the house like they were my enemy.  They needed to go.

I started struggling to get the tree out of the house.  At the same time, I found myself bawling... I felt bad for the tree, I felt bad for our ruined holiday, I felt bad for my kids, I just felt bad.  While crying and dragging the tree out, he called.  He wanted to know if he could do laundry at the house.  I said, "Doesn't your place have a washer and dryer?"  "Yes" he said, "But I would like to eat lunch, watch the game while my clothes wash."  At this time, I was in the backyard, with a phone in one hand, a tree in the other, and trying to stop crying.  I can see the road from here, and I saw his van coming.  I said, "It doesn't matter what I say, I see you're almost here anyway."   He came in... I came in, crying.  He knows I cry over the tree every year, and he gathered me up in his arms, smiling a little at my ridiculousness, and hugged me tight.  Kissed me.  Told me it will be alright.

He washed his clothes.  I cooked lunch.  We watched the football game.  We made love all afternoon.    He left again around 7.  But everything was really starting to feel right.  Like we were going to be OK.

Monday, he was coming over after work to get the boys for scouts.  I made dinner, and texted him that I had dinner waiting if he wanted something before the meeting.  He said he did.  He came late though.  Freshly showered, looking amazing.  He ate real quick, gathered up the boys and left.  He was distant.  I didn't understand.  But I didn't say anything.  He came back after the meeting and asked if it was alright if he went up to see our daughter.  I waited in the living room, he brought her down with him.  He kept putting her around us, and would not be alone with me.  He refused to look at me in the eye.  I asked him what was going on, he said he didn't know what I was talking about.  I followed him out when he went to leave, and tried to engage him, he pushed me away, and drove away.

What is going on??  We had just had three amazing days, with some intensely wild intimacy, there was a good connection going on, and now he's back to keeping me at arms length, and pushing me away.   What the hell??

He left.  I sat in the living room lost.  Screw this... I picked up my keys and got in the truck.  I called him.  He wouldn't answer.  I texted him, he didn't respond.  It just said, delivered.  He wasn't reading them.  I called again.  Nothing.

I start losing it... I think he might be with her.  I go by her house.  Lights are all off, no one looks home.  I call him again.  Nothing.  I'm really losing it now... I feel used and stupid for the things I've done over the past three days, I feel lost and confused.  I don't even know where I am at this point, I've taken turns that have gotten me a little lost.  It's raining.  I'm calling, I'm texting, nothing.  I'm losing it.

I'm hyperventilating, I'm crying, I'm driving, I'm calling, I'm texting... none of this is smart.  But I think I can't do this, I can't do this pain.  Why is he doing this?  How much more can I take?  I drive past a tree... I think how easy it would be to accelerate into it.  Would I survive?  I don't want to.  I just don't want to.  I've failed at the marriage, I've failed my kids, I can't keep their family together, I don't know what the hell to do.  I can't take the pain one second longer.  The trees that are passing me start to look more inviting.

My kids, I think about them.  I can't do this.  As I start to get myself under control, I realize I could go by where he is staying.  I go... his van is there, it looks like he is there.  There are no other vehicles.  I'm just losing it.

I go home, and lay in bed.  I can't sleep.  I can't sleep at all.  I toss and turn all night, I'm so hurt, I'm destroyed, I'm pissed that I'm destroyed.  I'm pissed that I am hurt.  I'm pissed that I thought it would be easier to put my truck into a tree than to deal with what life is handing me.  I'm pissed.

I know what I'm going to do.  I have to take care of myself, and my kids.

They get up the next day, Tuesday, and I tell them they have 45 minutes to pack, we are leaving and going to go sit on a beach in Florida.

And that's what we do.

I need a break

I need a break.

I have this incredible urge to get those first weeks out, to get them out now.

I already feel a little bit better about DD.  It's writing and releasing.  Writing and releasing...

I took a break from it yesterday.  I wanted to spend some time with my daughter and a few friends.  The rest of the family has been on a camping trip for the last week.

One thing I'm beginning to learn, is that I don't have to feel and deal with everything RIGHT THIS MINUTE.  It's alright to push it to the side for a minute and just be me for a while.

I went to bed the night I started this blog exhausted.  That was Thursday night.  I told myself I would let it go on Friday, relax, enjoy the day.   I told myself it would be a good day, and I would not allow myself to think about him, the affair, the OW.  (I really want the initials to be, 'OW', and for it to stand for Other Whore)   Or how about TW.  The Whore.  So much better.

But no.  Can't happen.  Because every other day, something new comes out, and it sends me spiraling back into Crazy Town.  I swore yesterday that I was leaving him.  I swore up and down that it was over.  I was packing his shit, and he was out. I can't take one more fucking discovery.  But they just keep happening.

So, I'm taking a break today.  We talked and argued over what sent me spiraling backwards, and it's sort of fixed.  I think.   They come home today, so I'm going to put this on the back burner for today.   I hope.

I know the months coming up in the story are burning in me to get out.  I've learned all kinds of new terms and acronyms:

DDay - Discovery Day  (for me.. there was 3...I'll explain)
OW - Other Woman (Other Whore, or The Whore, as I like to call her)

Hysterical Bonding. (my new favorite term)

Hysterical Bonding.  Google it.

The first three days after DDay, I was very confused why I wanted him so bad.  How I could let him anywhere near me?  How I could want to go anywhere near him?

I was confused and battling with myself, but I could not seem to say no, or stop myself.  I could not get enough of him.  It was all I could think about.  When we weren't talking, fighting, discussing, crying, yelling.... we were fucking.

 It was only a few weeks ago when I started looking for help, that that term came into my life.  I actually feel a little relief that I am not the only one, and it's quite common after discovering your spouse has had an affair.

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.