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Hovering isn’t healing.  

.       My husband has been hovering and I can’t heal like this.  I’m sure this is why he’s doing it but I can’t forget what he’s done and there is no turning back.  We are getting a divorce.  Why can’t he leave me alone and live the single life he so desperately wants.  What does he think is going to happen.  I see through all the minipulations.  He can’t fool me anymore but I still need to not see his face, or talk to him.  I need us to exist seperatly but it hasn’t happened because it’s so hard to do that because of our children.  I don’t know how to make this work for me without taking anything else from our children.  I need help.  I need ideas.  

     We abruptly separated  2 days after Mother’s Day…separated since I took the keys. The keys that fell out his overserved pocket, the keys that I hid for two weeks, the keys to the door of his secret apartment.  

I knocked softly before moving my shaking hand forward to try the first, out of 3 keys in the lock, it didn’t fit.   My hand still shaking fumbling the 2nd key to the hole. Didn’t fit. With my other hand I held my arm, to steady the shaking, and pushed the 3rd and final key into the hole.  It fit.  It slid into the lock and I began to turn it while hearing the audible “click” as the door unlocked.  I bravely turn the knob, feeling the latch pull out of the latch plate to allow me in.  I took a deep breath and pushed forward. One step, then two and there she was, a strange woman sleeping in a chair, wrapped up in a blanket belonging to my daughter.  Below her sleeping body, by her feet, a baby blanket given to me at the baby shower for our daughter, 6 years before.  My rapid beating heart echoed in my ears, making  my skin hot and flushed,  suddenly slowed and steadied and starting beating evenly and strong, in control.   I stood squarely In front of this stranger, wrapped in a familiar blanket, and tapped her shoulder hard enough to startle her into a standing position.  The blanket rolled off of her like water and puddled onto the floor.  She couldn’t form words and looked discheveled.  I asked her if this was “husband’s” apartment.  She shuddered out, “yyyyyes”.  I said, “I am his wife, this is his secret apartment, who are YOU?” She said, “Slutia” (no that’s not her name but I don’t know if I should use it so it will be Slutia for now ;)).  Then she started pacing.  She grabbed her phone, and continued to pace and said, “I can’t breathe.  I need to get out of here.  I need some air”.  I stood solid and looked right in her eyes and said,

 “PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN, I’m not going to hurt you,  I need you to answer my questions?”

 “How do you know my husband?” 

“Uhh mutual friends.”

 “What friends?”  “What are their names”

“Timmy ”

“We don’t know anyone named Timmy.”

“How long have you been seeing him?”  

” Ummmm not long.  A few weeks. ”

 “Are you dating him or just f-in him?” 

 “Just f-ing him.” 

Her answers were all lies.  I honestly think now in hindsight she was living with him.

I told her to get out and if that was her duffle bag on the floor to take it because she wasn’t coming back in. 

 She said, “I don’t have a car.”  

I said, “You’re a big girl and you have a phone.” “I’m sure you can figure it out.” 

She grabbed her bag and walked out.  I locked the deadbolt behind her.  Then I started to collect evidence and fight the tears that were welling up in my eyes.  I braved my way into the bedroom where a few of our children’s toys were scattered around in the floor, a blowup mattress filled the walk in closet, our sons blanket laying on top of it.  The real bed was unmade.  Everything but the fitted sheet was shoved in a heap at the foot of the bed.  Missing pillow cases from our family home were on pillows on this bed and the floor.  On the floor near the toys were vibrators plugged in walls, lubrication tubes were scattered about, lids open.  There was a pair of kelly green women’s underwear draped opened to the  visible cotton crotch, soiled.  My husband’s boxers were discarded a step away.  I moved to the other side of the bed where the nightstand stood.  There was a miniature tripod carefully placed on top clasping a GoPro, aimed at the bed.  I quickly snapped into action.  I disconnected it from the tripod arms, found the camera on my phone and I started taking pictures of everything.  I opened every drawer, more sex toys, more lube, drug residue, a bowl, lighters, money and clothes.  The bathroom contained some normal items intermixed with more sex toys, and sex toy sanitizer.  I picked up a small ball that looked like it could be a secret camera and when I picked it up I accidentally pushed a button, it started vibrating and I slung it with disgust out of my hands.  I quickly washed my hands and headed towards the door.  I pass two handing picture frames with pictures of our children and my husband together purposely excluding me, like I didn’t exist.  I took them off the wall.   I then I walk to the chair where the indentation of the strange woman was still visible and I took a picture, I took pictures of the blankets that belonged to my children, the empty beer bottles, empty liquor bottles.   I open the kitchen cabinets and took pictures of the contents; a scale, a few glasses from our home, difibulator chest pads, coffee filters.  Click, click, click.  I opened the pantry, aluminum foil, black plastic beads, click.  I started walking towards the door.  I was getting nervous that he would be on the way here. The “girl” had surely told him I was there.  I stared to leave when I spotted a green folder on the floor.  I picked it up and it said “Slutia’s Shit”.  I thought, my shit now.  I headed toward the door, keys in hand, with the pictures, the GoPro and now this folder stacked in my arms, opened it and then the door to this apartment of betrayal, slammed behind me. 

     My thought quickly changed to panic.  I was shaking.  I had my husband backed into a corner now and he was going to be enraged.  I was terrified.  I had to get the kids and run.  I stop by our house to pick up their  pajamas, clothes for the next day, their lovies, blankets and pillows and quickly started to the childcare place where I left them 45 minutes ago to do this. I needed to quickly make a plan.  There was no time to “feel” anything.  I called my friend, who was staying at her boyfriends house, to ask if we could stay at her house.  She said she’d meet us there.  I took a deep breath, parked my car and walked into the door to pick up my children. They immediately ran and jumped into my arms.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted to break,  but I didn’t.  I faked a smile and swung them excitedly, like everything was great. At the same time my mind was devising a plan.  I didn’t want them to realize that our world was crashing down around us and that tonight, we weren’t going home…. 

    These are things I’ll never forget, I’ll never get over but I’ll will move on happily even with these emotional scars.  His hovering, the inching he is attempting to further squirm into my life, into the home we had a family in, is difficult to manage.  Every time he leaves, after  spending time with our children, the next visit he tries to push my boundaries a little more.  I hate having to stay angry to stand my ground and he knows it.  I’m not an angry, grudge holding kind of person so I know he tries to use it to benefit him.  It’s exhausting.  My question is how do I stand my ground and protect my bounderies without being so angry all of the time?   I hate being  angry but when I’m not he tries to disrespect me more.  I don’t hate him.  I wish I did but hate isn’t a healthy emotion and I haven’t done anything wrong to feel so negatively.  He should feel bad emotions, not me and I don’t even want that for him either.  I wish him no harm.  

      I want to feel free to live my life with joy but I feel his manipulation creeping in, trying to control my healing.  Even though he’d deny it, he couldn’t bare watching me move on and possibly finding someone else to live the rest of my life with.  This is what I eventually want to do, but I know he’s holding me idling, not moving forward in my healing, by hovering.   It’s an endless battle with these personality disordered men.   He can sink my battle ship.  I’ll swim to shore and be fine as long as he doesn’t follow, but I know without looking that he’s swimming a distance behind me.  

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