This Christmas Eve night we drove past a parking lot on our way to see Christmas lights with the kids.
It was a parking lot where, just three years prior this very month, I had hastily transferred my children, under cover of darkness, to a waiting vehicle to ferry them two hours away to my inlaws. Removing all loved ones from the Fourth Circle of Hell.
I then drove in the opposite direction for my own two hours to a waiting airplane. I flew cross-country to my husband to attempt to save my marriage, as I witnessed his affair unfold via email & Blackberry. And had no damned idea what the hell I was doing, what I would say, how I could single-handedly stop time.
So, a mere four nights ago, I once again looked out into that parking lot as it passed by on my right, and felt such compassion for the poor girl who was in a blind panic and was attempting to regain any semblance of control of her life.
I just wanted to pull into the past and climb out of my car and hug her. Tell her she couldn't get control of this. Tell her what not to do in the next three years. Tell her how to handle what was coming.
I cannot begin to explain how overcome I was in that moment; looking into the darkness and having a truly tender love for my three-year-ago self ... and the world she was about to walk through.
I've still got a boatload of Draft contents to purge, but it's snowing in Stepford and I have some time on my hands today. I've been spending the last several hours marinating on the state of my life, my hopes, my fears, and my insecurities. And I have a good portion of each. Especially today, and I'm working through the Why in the background as I write here.
A friend of mine told me yesterday: "you should consider writing a pocket guide on the stages of an affair ... seriously, your verbage is supreme" which was soothing to my ego, especially during a weird night.
She's early on in the aftermath of her husband's affair. And being tempted by the attention of a male friend at present. And who am I to give any advice? I have failed miserably at this whole deal. Sh!t, ya'll, why do we still believe in Happy Ever After and continue keep a light on for someone, hoping they will be the one? The one who buys in. Who convinces you to buy in - again. Who loves you like crazy. Who makes it worth the wait. Who you are willing to be broken over.
If you live long enough, there's always wreckage. The degree varies, but the longer I live...
It's a testament to the human condition that we will optimistically try try again, either with 'the one who brung us', or - almost more risky at times - someone new, unknown, un-road-tested. Will your separate baggage make a matched set?
How good are the odds? (and how odd are the goods?) I'm in a bad mood today, so I'm bending more pessimistic on this one, if ya hadn't noticed.
Just how self-aware/self-actualized are you willing to become on your journey? There's no forward movement in this life or any other, if you don't do the work. And just when I pat myself on the back, some well-placed bullsh!t puts me in my place and reminds me of my shortcomings.
Oh, good lord, people. Pull on the bridle, I've gone down some random path. Sorry.
ANYWAY.
In a bit, let's back up to around mid-June of this year, when things took a slow yet sharp turn for me.
Going to go play in the snow with kids & try to shake this black cloud of ominous doom. Hang tight.
