I wish that I could understand why some things just feel like a punch to the gut? They shouldn’t but they just do.
Keep filling myself with the bullshit notion that it’s a process. Each step gets easier and easier and there is a grief as I pass through them.
He was served his PFA yesterday and from a practicality standpoint, I feel a little safer. Emotionally I will be honest, I have mixed feelings. Those pesky emotions like to give you a reach around and not in a good way.
I am not going to pretend the sadness doesn’t exist and that these moves are not done with a heavy heart. They are. I still believe he could pull out of it, people do pull out of the drudges of addiction… Families do heal.
He didn’t want that and I don’t want to be one drug use away from dead, so those pesky emotions of caring and love need to be forgotten – even if forgetting is sad, scary and You.Just.Don’t.Want.To.
A stupid PFA will only give an illusion of being a little bit safer. The emotional benefit though holds a lot of weight as to why it’s imperative it stay in place.
The only time he ever wanted anything to do with me was if he could get something out of it, the past 15 months I’ve been a puppet for him so that he could skirt any consequences of this, pretend he was never married and live happy every after. Meanwhile I was ripped apart, my heart was broken and I have been forever changed by that day and this year.
He didn’t waste a second and got himself an online dating profile, how long has that been going on? I shouldn’t be the least bit surprised – I’ve been nothing but a pawn to him for a very long time, one word. Disney. Classy touch using a picture I took of him. Gross.
I could have cancer… oh, you tell me you love me. I see, I didn’t know love meant online dating, vacations with other woman, letting me know I’m a cunt, refusing therapy…. Oh, but I need to do what he wants or I get stonewalled. That isn’t love, that’s abuse.
Having a PFA will keep him from being able to continue the mindfucking he’s refined down to a science. I have to hold that thought and keep that in the front. I do know that it will be easier to reconcile the flip side of the PFA. The flip side is also one sided and really is my issue.
Of course, it’s my own self-created delusional issues – I own that. The grief is there will be no more phone calls where I hear his voice, no more I love you (ya, I know they were lies anyway…but still, it was nice to hear because it reminded me of what was or more sadly what was lost), no more texts.
That means, no more of me holding on (even when I knew it was bad, knew I didn’t want to hold on) to the thread of something changing for good. That’s my weakness and my soft spot, it’s the space I would let him in and he would ravage my sanity with manipulation and mindfucks – no lube.
It’s my scarlet letter that I am a child of an alcoholic. My calling card. The fucked up thing, that I know will be resolved without him being able to influence me… I’d still drop that PFA for therapy and clear, safe boundaries. Come sit beside me my bane of existence of which is codependent traits, we can have popcorn made the real way, hot pot and olive oil. Yum.
I can feel that, but the more space I have between me and him, the easier each tough hurdle becomes. I am not wanted by him, I am not a loss from substance abuse… yes, pretty normal addict behavior but it still does suck to be the least wanted person when he’s the love of your life.
Sucks to be me. Please pass the popcorn.
Who’s the idiot though, he has an online dating profile, which is just gross. Oh well. I’m still holding on to my wedding ring. It’s one of those lines that once I cross, it’s a done deal.
He has an attorney on record for the divorce and that was a hard thing to see, an emotionally brutal hit. It’s real. This is real. It’s really happeing. Go away pesky emotions.
He can’t pressure me anymore, he can’t use me to make it easy, he can’t manipulate me. I will ask the court to grant the order for 3 years. I cannot tell you how hard that is going to be on me. It will devastate me, this is my husband that I love. He is not the man I knew or married anymore though… and I’m not going to get the magic phone call that he will met me on things that I need to feel safe.
Why? Because he doesn’t give a shit about me. I’m his scapegoat, his victim and nothing more to him. He makes sure I have the seared into every fiber of my being.
Who will I be in three years? I’ve arrived at needing the wrap up and live past this cluster fuck of fun. I have to go back to Oct 19th and make my peace with it. Some of that will hurt him, but it so isn’t’ about him or hurting him. He will never understand that, he would have to have given a fuck and if you look at what he’s done and not done the past year…. I’m the tool bag!
It is my fault ultimately my marriage failed. I wasn’t strong enough or healthy enough and I caved from the pressures he and his lunatic mother put on me. I was lied to that day, used, and they played on my emotions and love. When I was reeling with the most profound loss of my life. I got to do that alone and also hold my shit together enough because life didn’t stop and I had children who I wouldn’t let pay any more of a price than they had to in this.
I agreed to a bail mod that I never should have. I didn’t push for stronger charges that I should have because I was afraid of his anger if I did. And, I shamefully I admit, I was afraid he would leave me and worse, hate me.
In some ways, I set the stage and I paid a price. My biggest regret was agreeing to the bail mod because that changed the course and that took me out of the equations. Apparently, that’s where I was always destined to end up any way.
The week was big, today will be big. He can’t persuade me to change course now, not any more. It’s time to do the things I should have done that day. I fear his anger about it… fuck that, fear last time didn’t do me any favors anyway and doing what he wanted was only about him and him getting a get out of jail free card. He paid no mind to any collateral damage in that.
The criminal charges will be dropped off and how poetic that it will be to the very same judge that married us. He’s a judge that we both hold dear and who has been fair, firm and always rooted for us. He had tears in his eyes when he married us.
I will be ashamed when I drop the papers off. There are stages to pass though and I will feel shame for somehow in all the fucked up it became, I failed my marriage. Seeing he has an attorney on record this morning was so very very hard. I still struggle wrapping my head around not being his wife. Sentiments and emotions – fuck off.
Even still, life keeps going as it should.
My oldest was accepted into the GAPP program at her school, I started a go fund me for the little brat. I’m doing something right in the parenting realm 😊
(www.gofundme.com/devstudyabroad Feel free to share or donate lol!)
I have a ring that meant something and now is supposed to mean nothing. It’s something I have held so close to my heart and I haven’t been ready to part with it. I still had hope.
What right to I have to hold the hope that a ring signifies when my baby girl has a chance to stand as the strong and beautiful woman she has become… I how can I selfishly hold on to a ring that in reality means nothing to him and only a shred of hope in me.
The ring – the piece of my heart that has no home anymore, the only person that ring means anything to is me. My child has a chance to be an exchange student.
It’s time to part with it. This one will be really hard and I will cry. My husband put that on my finger and now, it’s nothing but part of the past that will never right itself. Tucked away in a Fedex bag to be shipped off and sold. Cold and businesses like.
It will be a deposit in my bank, money from it I don’t want but money is money and that money and that piece of my heart will go straight to paying off her exchange trip.
Keep living, one moment at a time.