infidelity

Closing the Door

Z. making my way, memories, new way of life, Stages of grief , ,

Yesterday’s a closing door, you don’t live there anymore.  Danny Gokey, Tell Your Heart To Beat Again

This song isn’t new but it is new to me and I wonder if I heard this song two years ago if I really would have heard it. Two years ago I remember comments that M made and his confusing actions. I remember asking the questions and questioning the behavior but it’s just a recollection of a conversation that occurred.  And I realized I don’t live “there” anymore but where exactly is “here.”

I used to read blogs and hear tales of infidelity – stories of how the betrayer was always so remourseful, so sorry, so willing to do whatever it took to make it right.  I wondered what it was that made M so determined that he didn’t want to save our marriage or why he apathetic to the whole situation. I remember telling M that I wished he hated me because then there would be some sort of emotion. But as I have said before M wanted nothing to do with me or in reconciling our marriage.

As selfish as it sounds – and I know it sounds selfish – I have to admit that there is a part of me that is glad that the door is closed and locked and the key doesn’t exist. I feel as if I got out, got lucky, got real closure…and I’m thankful. Thankful enough to say that statement out loud and to even write it. What I do need to remember is that in my storage unit is a tote full of ten years worth of photos, a china cabinet which was our first joint furniture purchase and a huge wall sized world map that for some reason was one of the first things I was glad to get back into my possession after M passed. Maybe I don’t have closure as much as I am benefitting from outta sight, outta mind. My “here” (aka today) might still be “there” (aka yesterday)…. I’m not sure.

But I could get caught up in a life that was shattered (mine) and/or a life that was lost (M) or I can let every heartbreak and every scar be a picture that reminds you Who has carried you this far ’cause love sees farther than you ever could, in this moment heaven’s working everything for your good.

Advertisement

GoBlueBlog – 2014 in Review

Z. looking ahead, making my way , , , , ,

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

August 2014 I started goblueblog hoping to just have an outlet in what I intended to be an open letter to M. A letter I was going to share with him the day our divorce was finalized. I never did share it with him and just 62 days after our divorce, sharing the blog link with M became a moot point.

Blogging has been an amazing experience and I recommend it (along with therapy!) to anyone looking to find their voice. You’re not as alone as you may think or feel and you never know the folks that will walk along this path with you…many never to be known.  WordPress provided me with my little blog’s year in review which I will share for a bit with you too. May 2015 yield God’s blessings upon all of us and all the love we can absorb from friends and family.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 4,000 times in 2014. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 3 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

When You Don’t Know What To Say

Z. Stages of grief, what I wish I knew , , , , ,

Since the day M took his own life, my world has once again become ground zero for the stages of grief.

I’m still in the angry stage–angry mostly that I’m asked to speak on behalf of M, or to know what exactly is going on. Truth is, I actually know a bit about what is going on because I still care. I care about M, I care about his family, I care about his friends. I care about my family, I care about my friends. I have some answers but like everyone else, I have a lot of questions that will never be answered. When I was with M, I knew his routine backwards and forwards. When he left, I lost all sense of that balance. So I do ask a lot of questions, some out loud, and most of them rhetorical — often just the impulse of a mind that is searching to put together pieces of a puzzle.

All I know (at this moment) is that 190 days ago M started making choices. Choices and decisions that would affect so many people in this small community that I’ve lost count. Choices and decisions that led to consequences for not only M but also her. I understand that her choices and decisions are solely hers, but the outcome affects me directly and has forever changed my life.  When it was just the infidelity and consequential divorce, there were no shortage of stories shared with me of common experiences, no shortage of people that were angry at M and angry at her, no shortage of people that would give me advice on how I needed to proceed during the divorce. However, add in suicide and the fact that all of this has happened in just 150 days, all of a sudden there aren’t so many shared stories, and not so much in the way of advice.

And this is why I say that when you don’t know what to say, it’s perfectly okay to say that. Please don’t try to find words to fill the silence. You should know that my mind takes care of that on its own. Squeeze my hand, hug me round the neck, tell me “yeah, this sucks,” or simply “I’m sorry, I don’t have any words.” Even a sad smiley emoticon can convey your heart.

But you should know that I like when you can relate. Your stories give me strength to move forward and follow your example.  When you can share a story that shows how you handled a hard time, that gives me hope. However, while not impossible, it’s highly probable that you don’t know how I feel, know what I’m going through, have been where I’m at, know just what I need to do, or can imagine what I’m experiencing. Most of the time, I’m not entirely sure myself.

My self talk is filled with doubts and shoulda/woulda/couldas. And yet, I know that there wasn’t anything I could do to change the course of events once M started down that path. I know that I’m not responsible for his actions. I know its not my fault. Remind me of these things–I need you to be positive and encouraging. I feel as if I am on the brink of my own sanity holding tightly to the edge as I watch my faith being challenged.

Yup, this does suck, no other way to say it… and I’m okay if you say it too.

Legally Divorced, Emotionally Widowed

Z. looking ahead, making my way, new way of life, Stages of grief , , , , ,

Legally divorced and emotionally widowed….there is no other way to say it.  It’s the only way to describe this chaotic, conflicting, non-sensical way I’m feeling.  I was barely getting used to not referring to M as my husband and now he’s gone.

Eight days ago, I was mentally & emotionally stable.  I was in a good place; happy with where I was at, the progress I was making, the fact that for once in a very long while, I was happy–maybe not all day every day, but every day, I was truly happy.

Because the divorce happened so quickly, its natural for people to think of M and then think of me. Now that he’s gone, I feel that people are looking to me to be the representation of him. I wonder if they think of me as shallow and hateful because I’m not visibly a puddle of tears wondering how I’m going to move forward.  What they don’t see is that behind closed doors or in the comfort of my closest friends, I am a mess–confused by the emotions that are within me.

I had been telling M goodbye for 4 months. I had been mourning the loss of my marriage for 4 months. I had realized that the person I loved stopped existing 5 1/2 months ago and I didn’t know this new person claiming to be M. I don’t know why he chose the path he did, why he started making the choices he did, I just know that four months ago, he told me about his affair and 9 days later he moved out.

And yet, here I am, once again, telling him goodbye. Here I am walking through the stages of grief once more. Here I am, replaying different scenarios over and over again in my mind. And mostly, here I am again … angry.

This time my anger is much different. I know that this time it’s a defensive anger – an anger that exists because even in death, I have heard more lies that M told. Really M?! Really?!  You had the nerve to tell co-workers that I wanted the divorce, that you still loved me and that I was the heartless one?! Again, I say Really?! I want to just plaster billboards all over town with the link to this blog. I’ve spent the past four months working out some hard emotions because you scoffed at the idea of reconciling or rebuilding our marriage.  I’m angry because it doesn’t matter now – I have no one with which to be angry, I have only the memory of you getting the last word.

As for “her”… I am conflicted because I want to say to her that she flatters herself if she thinks that what she did or said caused M to make the choice he did 7 days ago, but that’s not fair — I don’t know what she is feeling and its not my place to tell her how she should or shouldn’t feel.

Mostly I don’t want her to feel the pain or confusion as to why he did what he did. Three years ago when we lost a friend to suicide, M and I talked about his depression and the struggle he fights each day to stay this side of life. He talked about his past suicide attempt many, many years ago and how it had nothing to do with anyone else. It truly is that the person experiencing the anguish is at a point of seeing no other options.   I don’t know why, but I find that having that conversation in my heart brings me peace.

90 days ago, we were separating our stuff, making new lives for ourselves – now in a few days, his stuff will be distributed and donated and deemed worthy or unworthy of being retained by family members. Legally I have no say to anything regarding M or his property and yet I am probably the one that knew him best. Emotionally, I am having a hard time pulling my heart back into sync with my head and returning to my state of mind just eight days ago.

I feel like I’m more of a widow than a divorcee… 60 days to divorce and 62 days to a “forever-goodbye.”  Who the heck can even make sense of that?

Where Did You Go? pt. 2

Z. looking ahead, making my way, Stages of grief , , ,

My prior post can be interpreted a couple of different ways especially since the focus of my blog is my life and how it has evolved since D-Day.

Readers, sadly I share that I wrote that poem to M after learning that he took his own life in a very tragic and painful way.

I “lost” M 4 months ago….. I have been saying goodbye to him and I have been mourning the loss of a life that we shared. I have spent countless hours crying and trying to understand who this person was that existed since June — I don’t know him, I don’t know that man. What I do know is that M’s choices were M’s alone. I’m not ashamed to admit that it has taken many hours with a professional to come to that conclusion.

I am absolutely hurt that he is gone and I am crushed that he felt there were no other options. That he felt that he had no friends and that he was alone in this world. I (we) will never know where he was at with God when he chose this option. I witnessed him walking the aisle and being completely broken before the Lord and I take comfort in the thought that I believe he was saved. However, the enemy is going to take whatever stronghold it can and M let him take hold of his mind and as such his pride and then as such his judgment and ultimately his actions.

“My M” was my world for 11 years…. good bad ugly and beautiful. But I get to answer the same question each day that he did… Who am I going to live for today? And I choose Life. For better or worse in this rotten world that we live in, I choose Life and I TRUST that the only thing holding me now and keeping me from being crumpled up in a ball in the corner is the grace of my Heavenly Father who knows and understands the loss of his own Son.

M’s family and his friends can use our prayers and loving thoughts. They are left with many questions and are trying to fill in the gaps. But the answers that they are searching for are not going to be found.  It was not “one” thing that caused M to make this choice, there was no “nail in the coffin” sort of conversation. M was somewhere that very few people ever get to– utter despair and he went to a dark place.

Yes, the person I loved didn’t exist and that is no longer figuratively but literally. I weep now for the loss of a life, the loss of a friend.

Rest in Peace M, rest in peace (M. 1974-2014)

Recalculating

Z. looking ahead, making my way, new way of life , ,

Life’s like a road that you travel on; When there’s one day here and the next day gone. Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand; Sometimes you turn your back to the wind.
Tom Cochran, Life is a Highway

I haven’t posted in quite awhile because I am finding that my Mac is pretty much so outdated that adding a post is starting to become a bit of a challenge. A new laptop is just one more item that I recognize I need to add to my new life and I can’t help but recall that just two months before D-Day, my parents gave M a new ipad for his birthday and how I now know that FaceTime was just one of the ways he communicated with her thanks to that gift. He disgusts me.

Recently I had an opportunity to get “out of dodge.” I needed to go some place where no one knew me or my story and where I could just go and be without constantly wondering if that was his car or her car or if I would see them around town. My friend K made arrangements to get her parent’s timeshare and we were off to Myrtle Beach for the weekend. As I was planning to go, it occurred to me that I no longer had a GPS or luggage. M took all the luggage on his way out of the rental as well as the GPS. To be fair, he did ask me if he could take it and of course I said yes (smacking myself in the head now!)

Within two hours of arriving in South Carolina, we went to a local pawn shop and I sold my ring. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Make no mistake, sure I was sad and had moments of “wow, I can’t believe this is it” but for the most part, I really haven’t looked back. It probably also helps that I’m not going to be scoping out women’s hands looking to see if they are wearing that ring, nor am I wandering into a pawn shop here and seeing what my life is worth based on that ring.

As K and I drove around town and were talking, she filled me in on what the dating world is like these days. I’m not going to lie, I’m a bit scared. We had a great laugh over dinner as she shared with me some of the craziness that she is witness to when it comes to men and the way social media and texting play into it all now. It’s definitely going to be a challenge for me to get back out there and while I do miss the thought of someone to love, I’m definitely not ready to drink the Kool Aid just yet.

I shared with K some of my concerns about dating. I made the comment that I sure didn’t feel like I was a “catch” now… I’m 44, divorced, I have bad credit due to the chain of events that moved us from Arizona to Georgia 4 years ago, not to mention that I’m back living with my parents. But she said something to me that I have taken to heart over the days as I’ve let it sink in. She said “You are a catch. You know what you want and you know what you won’t settle for now.” She’s right– everyone has a story, and in mine I’m not going to relive my past mistakes. I’m working on becoming financially stable and right now that looks different for me than it might for someone else. I’m very aware of red flags and already more trusting of myself when I see them, even in people that I am just getting to know on a friendship level.

So, how’d I spend the money I got when I sold my ring? I bought a GPS. Sort of symbolic and ironic since I’m working on recalculating my own life, not only literally with a new budget and new adventures with old and new friends, but also emotionally and spiritually. I AM a catch and I work hard each day to remind myself of that–some days I’m not successful at it, but I keep trying.

For my friends reading this blog, should I start to get down about things and start to drift back into “romanticized”memories of my life with M, I’m counting on you to say to me “Recalculating” so that I know I’ve wandered into the past and its time to focus on the road to reality.

Bittersweet Slumber

Z. making my way, new way of life, Stages of grief , , ,

It’s an awful thing to just have your own thoughts with which to contend. 

It’s been 95 days since D-day. Some days it feels like forever, some days it feels as real as yesterday. Nights are still the hardest.  I have one job to do at night, sleep, and I can’t even accomplish that successfully. Since this happened, my sleep has consisted of maybe 4 hours of rest each night. During all of this, I have been amazed at how my body will still function, but I’m thankful every day that it does. My trainer would tell me that she wanted me to consistently eat at least eat more than 600 calories a day.  My “yoga teacher” would tell me that she wanted me to sleep more than just four “broken” hours each night. And with each comment they would make, I would simply reply, “I hear ya. I don’t disagree with what you are saying. I want that too.” 

Last Thursday, I started taking a new prescription allergy pill. And the sleep has come — quite unexpectedly. But it is a bittersweet slumber- I had embraced my new routine and grown to accept it. I would roll from one cool side of the bed to the other. I would re-awaken my computer and hear whatever I had set on Pandora for the night. I would check in on Facebook, and sometimes, I would write a blog post. But mostly, mostly I would I would find my friend that works overnights.

When you work overnights, life can be lonely. Similarly, when you can’t sleep, life can be lonely. This was the best of both worlds for both of us and I am forever grateful for my friend on the other end of the phone. However, this weekend, I awoke to a string of texts asking how I was, and then wondering where I was. The texts came not only from the friend I mention above, but from other friends with whom I chatted with regularly. Many of them in Arizona or California, so my midnight and 2 am wake-ups weren’t such a crazy time on the West Coast.

But with the stillness during the heart of the night I never had to feel alone. No matter when I sent out the “You there?” text, it was always received with “Yes!” and we would chat until my eyelids got heavy and I could fall asleep again, typically, only to awaken about an hour or so later to send out the next “Are you there” message.

Over the past couple of days, I’ve noticed that I only wake up once or twice now during the night. I’m dreaming, but they aren’t like before — I don’t wake up gasping for air, trying to catch my breath, and as an added side, my appetite has returned.

Had it not been for my overnight friends, I don’t know that I would have been able to have worked out and cried out and laughed out so many of my questions and anxieties of the past months.  Each of them has contributed so much into me and each has helped me keep my sanity whilst the rest of the world peacefully slept. The world was blissfully unaware that the tiny ray of light streaming from my bedroom window was illuminating a mind so manically awake that I thought I would go crazy.

Tonight, I see my yoga teacher. She will be thrilled to hear that I’ve been sleeping more these past few nights.  But neither my yoga teacher or my trainer will know how bittersweet their happiness for me actually is.

To my fellow bloggers

Z. making my way, new way of life , ,

…. I read your pain, I feel your pain, I live your pain. As we go through this journey-bound by the thread that knits us all together, know that while I don’t “know” you, I do care about you and am praying for our healing.

Please keep telling your story so that I can be encouraged by your strength, your wisdom and realize that I am normal when I want to curse, scream, curl up in a ball, fight, cry, laugh, and remember. You all are my hope, my inspiration, my sanity, and my connection to the realization that I am going to be OK.

And it may not be all day every day that I feel Ok, but hopefully one day, those good days will outnumber the rotten ones and I will remember who I used to be and because of all of this I am not different, but rather a better version of my former self.

Costume Parade

Z. making my way, new way of life , , , , ,

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas; but what happens around here sure does get around fast! unknown

One of the best things about living in a small community is the community events that bring everyone together. One of the worst things about living in a small community is when that community consists of my cheating ex and her.

Tonight, there was a free concert in the park along with a costume contest for the adults and a costume parade for the kids.  I love to attend these local events where I can park my lawn chair on the grass and listen to the music under the stars. All week, I felt comfortable and confident going except when it occurred to me that M & her might be there. What would I say? What would I do? Why wouldn’t they feel comfortable being out in public together now? — Now that the divorce is final and their actions can be “justified” (blech, my stomach lurches at the memory of their excuses.)

I contemplated not going. Although, this year my costume was perfect — I was going as the Jilted Wife. It didn’t require any special make-up or special effects, no fancy accessories… I looked just like the girl next door, the lady down the street, the woman shopping in the store–the “every woman” because it can happen to any of us and the more people that hear my story, the more they share a similar one and I see exactly how we are the “every woman.”

It occurred to me that even outside of October, the “masks,” much like the labels we all seem to known by were forced upon us. I am known as the WS* or a BS (Wounded Spouse/Betrayed Spouse);  M is the US (Unfaithful Spouse/*also WS for Wayward Spouse as noted in the comments below) or as I like to call him, an asshole; she is the AP/OW (Affair Partner/Other Woman) but please know I use the word “woman” loosely–hmm…. just like she was for my husband <sigh>.  Yes, they are the labels that we “assume” on D-Day (Discovery Day) but only we can decide if they define us.  I have decided that I don’t like my label as the Wounded Spouse… I much prefer fighter, survivor, stronger.

The music was great and the costumes hilarious and in the end, they didn’t come. But it took me some time to let myself relax and just enjoy the music. The truth is that I am going to run into them, its inevitable, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do or say, if anything.

I’d like to think that I will hold my head up high, not let them see me shed a tear, and confidently stand or simply exist showing them that they did not break me.