memories

What Are You Waiting For?

Z. memories, new way of life, Uncategorized, what I wish I knew , , , ,

Take your records, take your freedom, Take your memories, I don’t need them…. Keith Urban

Packing up my things uncovered a lot of memories. We’ve been taking selfies for ten years. I have entire albums of our selfies, micro-documents of memories that we made. I found our box full of ticket stubs…arena football games, movies, ASU vs. anyone football, hotel matchbooks from anniversaries, Mr. & Mrs. place-cards from weddings we attended and pictures, lots of pictures.

I found emails you sent to me professing your love. Your love letters were digital, but it didn’t stop me from printing them out and keeping them. I reread them. Bad move. I took the mix CD you made me (think Ducky, Pretty in Pink) and played it one last time. Again, another bad move. I kept that CD in my car faithfully from May 2003 when you gave it to me until today. I reread the handwritten cover note one last time. You will never know how many times I listened to those songs and read that cover note. For the seven years you were struggling with the pain of the auto accident to the dependency on prescription pain pills to the stint in rehab to the struggles with your depression to the happy times that you were truly present with me…. Good and bad times, I would pull out that CD and find a familiar song to carry with me throughout the day. Tonight, I added my own note to the cover and tossed it and those old emails into a box of your things. I don’t need them anymore.

I watched Tommy Boy tonight and it took everything in me to not send you a text with quotes from the movie. I will always feel badly for the friends who watched movies with us. The way we would quote lines both actual and ones that we made up. The way we would ask questions knowing that the next line in the movie or in the song was the answer. We loved to laugh at ourselves.

No doubt you will give her a mix CD or a song to think of you, laugh at the same movies we laughed at, take silly photos and recite movie lines, listen to the one hit wonders of the 80’s. She will think you carefree and fun… I will know you recycled my life and gave it to her.

You alone must forever bear the consequences associated with your choices. I, too, will however bear the weight of that decision for the rest of my life. It’s been 25 days since D-Day. Do you think about me? Do you think about what we had? Do you think about what you lost? Or do you think about how good life is for you now with your new job. Do you relish your “role” as right-hand man? Do you think that you’ve gained some freedom? Do you still feel justified in your actions – telling people that we “mutually” grew apart? You should know that I am calling “bullshit” on that one from now until forever. You are the last person I need trying to protect my feelings by saying it was mutual – you didn’t want to say that you had an affair (are having an affair.) Let me be clear again, you wanted nothing to do with reconciling and were dismissive of me because I wanted to save our marriage.

As you pack up your things and move on with your new life, I don’t doubt that you will toss any memory of us into the trash. Why make it just metaphorically? Do it for real, throw it all away, no reason for sentimentality now. You should know that I’m still surprised that for someone who just 25 days ago was convinced he didn’t want anything to do with me or be married to me, that you are dragging your feet on severing the connections you have with me. You still have not signed the bank paperwork to split the account access and Verizon hasn’t separated our accounts yet (grrr) because you haven’t made one call to say that you are taking your own line.

What are you waiting for? Just do it. You are the one that wanted this.

No Doubt

Z. looking ahead, memories, new way of life, what I wish I knew , , , , , , , , ,

I’m trying to pack and I can’t. It’s not the physical task involved, it’s the emotional weight that putting things in boxes represents. Each time that moving boxes have been involved, there has been some life-changing event that we’ve always tackled together and now I’m left to pack up my own stuff and you will come later and pack up your own stuff. And maybe it’s that your stuff is the “big stuff” so no matter how much I accomplish, to anyone looking in from the outside it doesn’t look like much has changed.

My craft studio contains so much “stuff”…. Stuff that I did by myself. Each piece of paper, each inkpad, each stamp was selected by me. It was mine and I spent a lot of time in that studio. I always said that I was blessed to have a husband who let me have a space of my own. I bragged about your support of what I did and I was thankful that you never held it against me. I was grateful for the opportunity that my little crafts would bring and the cash that would come with those opportunities. Often, they paid for some extra groceries or even take-home when we’d do dinner and a movie from the comfort of our living room.

Your space consisted of the couch or the bed. No matter which, you always had your computer and were always playing online games. I didn’t fuss at it because like you let me have my space, I figured you needed yours… a way to just find time for your mind to unwind. Looking back, it was just a way for us to not talk — to have Netflix playing in the background, to share a common laugh or gasp at what was going on, but we forgot to talk to each other.

I remember saying to you as we were driving to the airport before you trip, and after a particularly tough weekend of talking through a lot of things, that I felt closer to you than I had in a long time and yet, I couldn’t just reach over and hold your hand. We dealt with a lot of feelings those first two days…D-weekend. It’s a shame we couldn’t deal with them earlier.

You sent me a text that said you were sorry that you couldn’t share your feelings in a way that I understood. So am I. You said that if I had only asked if something was going on, that you would have told me. I should not have had to ask. You said that you were sorry you let it get as far as it did. I agree. And yet again, I wonder, is it easier to say sorry now… now that you are sure this is over?

I paid my half of the lawyer’s fees; will you pay yours? You were so anxious for this to end and confident that it would just 19 days ago but you struggle to come up with the full half of your responsibility? You tell me you have just $8 in your wallet until payday and I want so badly to offer you some money so that you can get some new pants for work but I don’t. There are things I want to tell you but don’t. Things that I think you should know, things that would make your life a bit easier but I won’t.

You see, for so long, I was always taking care of the loose ends while you were making deals. And now, you say you go from couch to couch between two homes, one being hers and the other a woman who knew exactly what was going on and didn’t speak up. I know where each lives and it doesn’t make sense. You are always driving her car no matter where you say you slept. I think you are lying and even if you aren’t there isn’t much now that would convince me otherwise. I question your questions, I question your answers, and I question your motives.

Yesterday, I received a text from you asking me if I was going to “shaft” you with the rest of the bills (namely, because the house bills are all in your name). Where in the world did that come from? Again, my response to you is have I proven myself to be so unfaithful to you and my responsibilities to this marriage that you doubt I would continue? You have no sense of boundaries with the chatter that is going on around you. You doubt me, because you doubt yourself.

But you see, I don’t doubt you. I don’t doubt that you will find a way to figure it out. I don’t doubt that you will have your cake and eat it too, I don’t doubt that you will come out of this feeling as if you have been justified in all of your actions and I don’t doubt that you will wake up one day and realize that I’m gone.

Queue Stupid Boy by Keith Urban

Can you Repeat the Question?

Z. memories , , , , , , , , , ,

It’s hard to ask why, but even harder to ask what now? 

Seeing you at our meeting with the lawyer last week was different than I expected. I really thought that the site of you might make my heart fall or leap, I wasn’t sure which, but I certainly thought that I would feel something. But when I arrived, you barely looked up from your phone. We made small talk and chatted about your new job. You were cold… and I realize that while I am heartbroken, you may very well be the one with a broken heart.

And yes, to answer your question that day… I did feel better repeatedly saying to the lawyer that you had an affair, and by repeatedly, I mean repeatedly. I now realize that it wasn’t nice and I’m sorry. You should know that I truly don’t hate you but my heart hurts because you don’t seem to care.

I remember telling you on D-day that I wished you would just tell me you hated me because then there would at least be some emotion, not just the blank stare and clenched jaw. This is going to end; nobody wins. There is no race to the finish to get the gold medal. In about 45 days we will no longer be husband and wife. In 47 days we would have been celebrating our anniversary.

Eleven years ago, what drew me to you was the way you “played” life. You had friends with whom you had fun and you were your own person. You know that one of our biggest compliments we had of each other was that we had our own friends-we were our own person. We were not each other’s half—we were two wholes who came together. We each had our own source of fulfillment that complimented the other.

Your friends have now lost you as fast as I did, but they don’t get the courtesy of a goodbye or a why and it’s hard for me to know what to tell them. You understand that the facts remain, you had an affair, you didn’t want to reconcile and we are getting divorced. But I don’t want to be calloused in my responses, I can’t, that’s not me…anymore.

Maybe when I was still resentful towards you at the way that life was not getting any easier. You were taking trips out of state to see family and trips to chaperone youth events and fishing trips with your buddies. I would get up and go to work everyday to make sure things ran smoothly here. So it was very frustrating to hear you say that the final tipping point for not wanting to reconcile was that one of the littlest family members said they didn’t remember what I looked like. You took that as a sign of disinterest on my part. The part you easily forgot was that only one ticket was available and any extra funds were used to make sure you had travel and spending money.

Nevertheless, my heart found forgiveness for you and for that situation and I think that prepared me on some level for what was to come just a year later. I do forgive you, I forgive her, but forgiveness is for my benefit not yours. It is what is allowing me to carry on each day and go to work. It is what is allowing me to maintain a civil relationship with you and to look you in the eye and say very honestly that I do wish you well. It is only by the grace of God and the prayers of many friends and family that hold my heart right now that I can ask the question… why? And it is only that same grace and those same prayers that help me to understand that I will never get the answer that satisfies my soul but still begs the question. Now, all I can do is ask the question, “what now?” and step out in faith that I will get that answer.

What Rhymes with….

Z. memories, new way of life

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

I wrote your mom a letter. You said you didn’t mind if I told her goodbye. I feel badly about sending a letter but to talk to her would mean that I would have to answer questions that should be answered by you. Your sisters wanted to talk to me but I told them that couldn’t happen. If you are not completely honest with them about what happened then that’s between them and you. Your family will always be on your side and rightly so; and no matter what I would say, it would only be self-serving.

What would I say? I think it would depend on what they asked…but at the very least it would be the truth, not a half-truth. I’m not sure why you feel it is better to say that we mutually grew apart, let me be clear—there was no mutual. You made a decision for both of us. And now we have begun the divorce process. My friend, L said that it would be most intense because the date of the divorce would likely butt right up with the date of our anniversary. If I could get them to be the same date, I think it would be easier. At least then I would have a great answer to the question about the happiest and saddest days in my life.

I will be sad, I am sad. You were my love walking around outside my body, I’m just sorry that you didn’t realize that. I search my memories for times when you and I were happy and I find them. You told me that you didn’t want me to think that there were only bad times, that you had good times too. And I wonder why you didn’t draw on them to remind you of the love we shared. Was I that easy to dismiss? Was this marriage that disposable?

One day I hope (selfishly) that you will look back and realize that I was a good wife to you, that I was a good friend to you, that I was good, period. I am still not sure about keeping my name. I’ve had it for ten years. I like it, it feels familiar to me and that familiarity brings comfort. For you familiarity brought restlessness and you sought something new.

I can’t help but think of the wedding poem and realize that the something blue comes at the end for a reason. This blog title is meant to honor the last connection you had with your father but it also is the color of my broken heart. As for the rest of the poem… my old life will become new because another woman borrowed my husband.

It’s not as catchy but you get the point.