Journal Entry: April 27, 2014
“I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind” -Edgar Allen Poe
Every day I try and trudge through the monotony of my new existence. Every day I feel the same feelings of despair and loneliness. I am making some progress. Many times I am able to block out the destructive cycling of images, sometimes my distractions work. Many times they do not. I know he is an addict. I know he never loved her, that he does not love her now, that he didn’t love any of them. But, the pain I feel when I think about the time he invited his first acting out partner to his hotel room and then sent her home crying to her husband in the middle of the night, makes me crumble to the floor in a heap. The first time he and his second acting out partner undressed in his downtown office and had sex on the sofa, makes me want to throw up. The first time he drove to the third acting out partner’s house, went inside, took off his clothes with her, and then touched her body, I start to sweat and ache. The first time he let her touch him and the first time he had sexual intercourse with her, sometimes I can’t block them out, and the images may destroy me. The pain. I feel like my heart will rip in two.
I can understand the addiction, but at the same time not understand how he could have done it. I ache inside. I desperately need help. I know I can be understanding and supportive, but when I am weak, the images still bombard my thoughts. I can’t think of anything else. I feel like I am falling into another trap, only to be hurt again. I feel like his thoughts betray me. I know he rationalized to himself that he deserved his secret. Somehow I wasn’t attentive enough to his needs, so that even though deep down he knew it wasn’t right, he rationalized that it was okay for him to have his secrets as long as I didn’t find out and that is why she used it to blackmail him all those years. How could he wake up every morning and face himself in the mirror knowing who he really was and what he had done.
I know there are secrets he continues to keep. I can feel it in my bones. No matter how many times I beg him to just tell the truth, I know he is holding back. I just do not understand why. He used me as a scapegoat. He told her many lies about me, like I was not loving or nurturing, that I didn’t like to have sex with him, that I put a pillow between us and our marriage was a loveless one. I do not understand why he had to lie about me. Wasn’t it enough that he was lying to her about their relationship, telling her he found her beautiful and that she was the only one that could satisfy him, and that he loved her. Wasn’t that enough?
On days like today, I cannot find solace. I cannot manage to accomplish the simplest things like brushing my hair or opening the curtains. I cannot find the daylight through my darkness.