It's the End of the World as We Know It, and I Feel -
- well, contrary to what Michael Stipe would have me sing, I do not feel "fine" about the end of the world as we know it.
The Husband mentioned something the other day that kept prodding me into thought. Why, he asked, does it always take the End of the World for you to realize you need to change? Good question. Just one year ago this week he said in a long distance phone call, "I think we need to separate" and completely rocked my world and all I that knew to be solid. I realized then, at the End of the World, many of my faults in this marriage and my focus narrowed to my family; every other peripheral thing fell away. I flew across the country to fight for my husband, but I lost that battle.
Partly because I wasn't entirely forthcoming, and neither was The Husband. He was physically unfaithful two days after I left, but had been emotionally unfaithful long enough. I discovered this relationship pre-sex but didn't tell him, just tried to get him to fess up on his own. He denied anything else influencing his decision to end the marriage. We both lied. We both lost. Long story, that I still hope The Husband will tell you himself. But if not, we'll go there eventually. Yet. I still handled things poorly in many areas. Blah, blah. You've heard it all before from me, I know.
My world fell to bits. Then my husband decided suddenly to stay in the marriage and broke off the affair after being knee-deep for over a month while back at home. It happened so quickly I was astounded, and sadly, unconvinced that he was truly choosing me. I wondered, is he staying because I am the one with the income now? Is he here just for the children? I could not simply rest in the fact that, number one: he made a godly decision, and number 2: I was worthy of choosing.
The comparison/contrast to an invisible-to-me "perfect" woman, coupled with the all-too-many emails I had read between them (fcuking torture), on top of my basic "protect thyself" default mode from childhood...recipe for disaster. Could not see the Big Picture because I was so freaked out over the whole situation. So, I go behind my Protect Thyself wall, and lob grenades at The Husband. For, oh, about a year. Every argument, disagreement, tough discussion, I throw something mean at him and likely bring up the affair, or something he said to her, or something he said about me to her, or - you get the idea. Never letting him crawl out of his hole, and be safe with me, because I was always verbally kicking his a$$. A walk-by knifing, he once described these verbal daggers. I completely lost perspective on how to work through this together. I kept my lifelong position of me-versus-you, rather than being a partner to him. I wonder now if I was ever one. Grenade lobbing continues, and then, oh, hello - it's the End of the World again.
The Husband is physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted, and pretty much sick of being married to me. Again. And - again - I have a big fat revelation of my wrong-doing and want to change. See the pattern? We do, too. We're sick of it, too. I have no good end to this post, I just wanted to get these thoughts out of my head and :::splat::: them out here so they'll quit haunting me. Consider yourselves my receptacle today.
