And the rest of the weekend went like this

Journal Entry: Mother’s Day, May 11, 2014

After zero hours of sleep and with all the pain relievers worn off, what is left is a long ugly cut on my arm covered in dried blood and sixteen big black stitches, and a whole lot of pain. A forever reminder of my husband’s betrayal.

We had planned to drive out today to a nearby resort for brunch, and to purchase my mother a gift certificate at their spa for Mother’s Day. I really didn’t want to go, but my family coaxed me into it. Since dday I had been struggling with a type of paranoia regarding the stalker bitch. I have become somewhat agoraphobic. Every day I feel like crap and my eyes are swollen from crying. I don’t feel like socializing, and I don’t want to leave the house. I have this fear that she is there, wherever we are, following us, stalking us. All her phone calls have not helped my situation. I was beginning to settle a bit until the card yesterday, and the proof that she had been stalking me. Suddenly the extreme paranoia is back, worse than ever. I am now constantly checking the locks on the doors of our house, for fear that she will enter our home and murder us in our sleep. My eyes constantly dart around when we are in public. I have always had an aversion to people walking behind me, or sitting behind me in a restaurant. Now these situations are impossible to bear. The plans for this weekend are full of fun activities in public places, with lots of people, and socializing. It is Mother’s Day weekend. It is my nightmare.

Although it was kind of a dreary weather day, the drive to the resort was nice, and the food was amazing. I picked my seat in the restaurant carefully. I could see every person and every entrance point. I don’t care if people think I am crazy or paranoid. I want to see the bitch coming. I had an eggs benedict dish that was served on toasted brioche with sautéed kale along with the best ham, poached eggs and hollandaise I can remember. We also ordered the fresh baked biscuits with homemade preserves. Comfort food at its finest. If I couldn’t be happy and secure, at least I could be satiated with delicious high-fat delicacies.

Later that evening, we were scheduled to attend a basketball playoff game. I really did not want to go. I mean I REALLY DID NOT WANT TO GO. My husband and son were not willing to leave me home alone. I wasn’t confiding in them my increased paranoid thoughts and they were just not taking no for an answer. I went to the game at the large arena with thousands of people. Even though the evil, hoarding, alcoholic bitch has probably never been to a pro basketball game (she doesn’t actually sound like the sports type), I nearly went insane scouring the crowd. My hands were shaking, but I hid them in my pockets. I pretended to be having fun, but I was not. I couldn’t yell because I am still suffering from my latest spell with the upper respiratory infection and laryngitis. I couldn’t clap because of the pain in my arm, and I couldn’t focus on anything but searching the crowd for her. I know, I am a sorry excuse for a companion at this point. As we were leaving the arena I had a mini panic attack. People were coming at me from all angles. I couldn’t breath. I was shaking. Tears started streaming down my face.

By the time we got to the car, I was numb and so exhausted. I knew I had upset my son, but I honestly could not control it. I should not have gone out to such a crowded venue, it is just too much for me at this point. I need to acknowledge my own limitations and stand up for myself. On the way home I became angry and a lengthy conversation between me, my husband, and our 20-year-old son ensued. Even though I did not want our son to get caught up in my pain, he had been standing on the sidelines for months now, I also desperately needed his help in convincing my husband, his father, that the lying is no longer acceptable. During the drive home our son expressed his own anger at his father’s constant lying. It is not fun feeling like you have been lied to your whole life. We implored B to listen and comprehend the fact that he is hurting us. That we do not want to abandon him during this difficult time, but that we as human beings cannot continue to be subjected to this level of painful betrayal. I saw maybe a glimmer of understanding in B’s red and watery eyes…. But really just the slightest hint of acknowledgement. I know it has only been a few months since discovery, but honestly I am seriously concerned that I do not have the strength to endure this for much longer.

It was sheer exhaustion that led to a decent night’s sleep for me. I awoke on Mother’s day nearly refreshed, and then, we started everything all over again. Another sporting event, this time pro soccer. The weather was gorgeous, sunny and warm and the game is outside, and our seats are amazing and not all claustrophobic. I do not have to touch elbows with strangers. My paranoia was slightly more controlled, probably because I was in less pain and better rested.

Later that afternoon we met my family for a mother’s day/birthday celebration at a local restaurant. This was the first time I had been with my family in a social setting since dday. My family knows nothing of what has gone on for the past four months (four months EXACTLY today!). I wore a long-sleeved sweater so there would be no awkward explanations (lies) needed about my arm. I think I did an okay job pretending that things were fine. As it turned out, I was seated between my parents and across the table from my husband and my son. I think they were in shock that I was handling things as well as I was. They both stared at me most of the time and had these funny questioning smiles plastered on their faces… I felt like their eyes were constantly and silently asking me if I was okay. I am by far the most talkative person in my family (normally). My mind wandered a lot at dinner. I was pretending and as the afternoon wore on, I thought I was doing a pretty shitty job. Every time there was a lull in the conversation and people looked at me, I pulled out my phone and looked at my Facebook and Instragram for pictures to show everyone or topics to discuss. We did have our recent travel photos to share. I was on complete auto-pilot.

When we left the restaurant, my husband gave me lots of words of encouragement about what a great job I had done. He put his arm around me and kissed me and I cried all the way home. When did I become so pathetic and needy? Well, I can tell you, exactly four months ago today. That’s when!

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