Brief yet everlasting.
And then all out.
Nothing left inside.
Everything remaining out.
Visually here but gone.
I see you.
Warmth still felt upon your skin.
I hold you.
Tell you I’ll never stop missing you, loving you, needing you.
Then you’re gone.
Then you’re gone.
4 years pass and you’re gone.
I am here.
He named her Snowy, is what I would’ve told you today if I could’ve called you. I knew you would chuckle at that. He always made you laugh. She did Tutu.
I’m a little lost. It isn’t anyone’s fault but my own. I’m avoiding everything. I’m avoiding because of fear but that’s just an excuse. It’s true but it’s still an excuse. An excuse I’ve become way too comfortable with and it’s doing nothing but stealing from me. It’s making me miss out on a new life that I should be further in creating. I’m not setting a good example for my children. I’m focusing on the wrong things. I’m drowning, my feet are stuck in cement, waves are crashing around me, and I’m staring at a mirage in the distance. I need to blink, or shake my head and refocus.
We all have had tragedies. I’m positive that no living person hasn’t had something difficult happen to them. Yes, I do understand that I had a lot of them piled on top of each other, in a short period of time, but that doesn’t make me different or more damaged. Does it make things harder? Maybe, but it doesn’t mean it has to be. I’ve never been weak but I’ve been acting weak for a few months now. I’ve been neglecting myself which I’ve learned doesn’t help me at all. I can’t be the best me without taking care of myself. In fact I begin to be a person who reacts and not a person who does. A person who reacts is insecure, nervous, defensive, and sometimes not nice. I’ve never been as aware of this as I am today. I’ve never been so disappointed in myself and I can’t sit here and marinate in this self pity. It isn’t who I am. I am not a person who makes her own life worse by doing nothing. I set goals and I go for it. I can’t hide and let life pass me by.
So today I’ll begin again and get back on track. No one is going to do it but me. I have to believe in myself. I will be kind and loving and not insulted, overly sensitive, and insecure. If I don’t believe in myself, who the hell will. I know who I am. I know what I’m capable of. I make mistakes and live outside of my moral code when I lose sight of that. I hurt myself and I hurt others when I do and I’m ashamed of not seeing it before now. I have to do better. I have to be better.
I pray a lot and honestly I still probably could pray some more. I pray for my children the most and our future together. I’ve prayed for them to be ok being from a divorced family more times than I can remember. I have prayed that they don’t remember things that have happened in front of them, to them, or even things that they heard so many, many times. Tonight I found out, for sure, my prayers are being heard. My daughter remembers a terrible incident as a good memory. She remembers her father and I fighting over her one night when I was scared he was going to take her. She was asleep and he kept going in her room and in her bed. I just figured out he was a sex addict. I didn’t know what this exactly meant and I didn’t trust him in our daughters bed with her. So he went in and I went behind him and took her out of the bed and to the guest room bed with me. Then he came and got her and then me. Finally we both just fell asleep with her in the guest room. There was a lot of arguing when this was going on. I have thought of this as a failing moment for me as a mother because I could have done that better. I could have been better but I wasn’t. I didn’t have to argue with him. I could have just been pleasant and just took her. Tonight she brought this memory up when I was tucking her in. She said, “I loved that night when you and daddy fought over me and then we all slept together in the guest bedroom.” “I really loved all that attention…it was fun, Mommy.” I was shocked. I thought we’d surely relive that memory in therapy during her teenage years. It is one of the memories I’m most disappointed in my actions. It’s one that I prayed about a lot and it appears my prayers were answered, just not in the way I prayed for. She didn’t forget the memory she just remembers it as something it wasn’t. From her perspective we both wanted to love her and we both were fighting for her happily. So strange how that turned out but I’m thankful for it not being a memory of what it really was.
Last night I went out with some good friends. It’s always so great to get to be myself again. To let go of the things that hold me back. We talked about my struggles for a while, and watching how angered they all get when talking about my exe’s treatment of me and then their eyes fill with tears when they talk about how I’m going to make it fine, makes me feel loved. They really care about me as I do them. They always remind me how strong I am. They follow up with calling my ex a douchebag and an asshole, and so on. You know, they say exactly what needs to be said 😉. They know me. We’re all like sisters. They also knew I couldnt spend the entire night talking about that shot so subjects have to change…thank goodness.
One of my friends brought up an interesting question, if you could be alone in a room with anyone you’ve ever dated who would it be and why? It cracked me up because she had obviously thought of this recently and wanted to share her picks. Her two last boyfriends before she met and married her husband. She included one of them just because she thought she should, a pity pick. It was the other guy she really wanted to be alone with one time, just to see what happened. just to hear what he had to say. This is all just pretend and fantasy. They live in different areas and both are happily married. Their relationship just ended bad and quickly and they never spoke again. There was never closure. I understand why she wanted this. We all want closure. Even if it’s with someone years ago. Even if lives moved on, families were made and life move on. Just because it’s easier to close a chapter once all the questions have been answered.
I couldn’t decide on a pick. As I just wrote that, I thought of who I’d want it to be. Last night, I had no one. I picked my last boyfriend before marriage but not because I didn’t have answers or I still want him. I mean he’a still quite handsome and still single but he’s a mess. BIG MESS! He doesnt live here anymore anyway. Still super cute and fun so maybe he could be a something (wink wink). Haha.
With this question I realized I needed to dig in deep and examine my patterns. I need to write down what I want from a man. How I need the next person to be. If I dont think about it then how will I ever know. I did this before meeting my husband. He hit all of them. It’s obviously not fool proof but I’m wiser now.
I’m going to dig in deep and try to get to the heart of why my relationships have started and why they all ended. There are only a few long ones. My husband of course the longest and the only one the ended badly. All of these memories have music attached to them and I’m going to try to find one of the ones that popped up when I thought of the last guy. I obviously need a soundtrack attached to my memories! haha!
Fighting depression is no joke. It is a fight that I struggle with. Not every day but a lot of the days. Today I can’t shake missing my family. The way it was supposed to be. The way that it was at times. It makes me sad that the good memories are fading.
Sometimes it’s like it’s swallowing me whole but I can’t explain that to anyone who hasn’t experienced it. Some people move on faster than others and I’m not one of those who can. Maybe if it had been just me I would’ve already moved on to someone else but with our kids in the mix, it makes it much harder for me. I know that this depression has a hold on me…I certainly don’t enjoy things like I use to or like I should. I tire of people painting these fairy tale pictures of how it’s going to be. They have no idea what all of this has done to me and they don’t get how my ex isn’t going to be better, change, or be reliable to help with our children. I will never be able to call him and ask him to pick up our kids because I’m stuck in traffic or when I start working I get stuck at work. He will never be that person. When the kids were in preschool and my dad was sick, I asked him about 3 times to pick up one of the kids because I was still at the hospital and every time I’d get a call from the school to ask if we had forgotten to pick them up and that they would be in the office waiting. I’d have to leave the hospital and rush to get them and when I called him to ask him why, he’d say I was being ridiculous that he was about to go get them. He wasn’t.
I just wish I was one of those people who breezed through life effortlessly. I think I deserved that. I know I’m a good person. I know I didn’t deserve this. I don’t know. I’m just bummed out sometimes about the way things have turned out. Then I get mad at myself for feeling that way and not being thankful for what I have. Many people have it much worse. It still doesn’t mean that it’s not hard. It doesn’t mean that I’m not constantly fighting and I’m not constantly scared. Maybe I’m not strong enough. Maybe I’m just meant to fail at everything. Maybe my purpose is for other people to feel good about their lives. Wow what a pity party. Usually when I dip down this low I bounce back quickly. Fingers crossed that happens ASAP.
I just remembered this song and how I wanted it to be on my birthing mix of music. For the hospital. It’s like I’ve be screaming at myself for years and I couldn’t even hear myself scream. Sad to think about. This is also when my ex wrote me a note and promise seconds before being let back in the operating room for my c-section. I didn’t need the birthing mix after all.
His note said, “Ebba (a nickname my family use to call me when I was little that he thought was cute) I promise I’m going to be the best husband and daddy ever. We are going to have the best little family and I just can’t believe we are about to have our first baby. You’ve done such a good job preparing for her. I know I’m going to cry like a baby. I love you so much.”
Too bad he only meant the things during the moments. When it got hard, he always ran until he started doing (or possibly finally getting caught for) all the terribly cruel and abusive things I’ve written about. Too bad the moments weren’t the life.
As I sit here writing this I overhear the conversations these ladies walking by were talking about. They’re complaining about heir husbands not doing his part of the dishes or complaining over who does more of the housework. I just wanted to scream, but does he love you? Eff the dishes and be happy you love each other. I promise you if your marriage ends you’ll wonder why you wasted your breath on such trivial things.