Best laid plans, and all. For the fourth, we were set to drive up north for the big family picnic and barbecue, and we even drove almost half way there before I realized I had forgotten my medications, which include high blood pressure meds, and birth control pills. Two things I need to take on time. At that point our options were 1) turn around and make the trek back home, pick up the meds, then turn around again and, at 11:30pm get back in the car and drive the full three hours to the hotel we had booked near the event, or 2) drive home and start again early the next morning in order to make it to the picnic on time, then drive back home… more than six hours of driving in one day, after having driven nearly three hours the night before.

Even though I know my forgetting the pills was not intentional, I had honestly been dreading all day the drive and the event. First, that drive is and will most likely always be a trigger. Blue Eyes made that drive for business numerous times with the OW including the time he had me terrified something had happened to him after not contacting me for hours because he was with her and she was threatening him, plus the drive nearly two years ago when he broke things off with her ultimately prompting the phone call, d-day, my life being turned upside, yada yada. I want to be through with these triggers, I really really do, but no matter how consciously I tried to block them as we were driving along the freeway, the more I tried to push them to the back of my mind, away and to a safe place, the more I could feel my chest tightening as we drove. I also dreaded being around approximately 30 family members and once again pretending everything is normal. Things are not “normal” and although most of my family is completely unaware, they say things that trigger me and make me feel like I am living a lie and it is difficult to pretend. Our company employs two of my siblings, one that knows, and one that doesn’t. As I have mentioned before, the family knows Blue Eyes is struggling and has cut all contact with his abusive family and that he has been going to regular therapy, but they don’t know the real story. I know one day I will reach that point where it no longer tears me apart inside to feel like I am lying by omission to my family. There are many things they do not need to know, but I am not a hider or a secret keeper by nature, and that part is difficult for me. I am not afraid of their judgment, or pity. I know my family, and they know me. The person none of us really knew, was Blue Eyes. Blue Eyes has agreed that we can tell my family the truth if that would help my healing. But just when I think I want to shout my story from the rooftops, I remember how painful it is to do so, and I keep my mouth shut. What is the lesser of the two evils, divulging the secret, or keeping it… not sure there is an answer to that question because it is all evil.

We decided to take the less stressful option and stay home, but there seemed to be something off about the day. Maybe I was still questioning my lack of strength under the circumstances, I am often too hard on myself, expecting too much too soon, maybe it is hormones. Seriously, I am pretty sure I am in menopause, having gone five full months now without a cycle. I feel like I need to blame my recent relapse on something. Blue Eyes is doing fine. Still waiting to complete his fifth step with his sponsor and a friend, but it is scheduled and happening this week. Blue Eyes is loving and kind. He tries really diligently to keep all his boundaries in tact. But he does still struggle with being independent and focusing on healthy mindful behaviors to fill his time. I know he does not really know himself well. I know in the past that when he was ungrounded and he needed to reach inside himself for strength, his addiction won out and he acted out, instead of connecting with the mindful, spiritual, good, clean, honest, and moral soul deep inside. He let the dark side win. He is fighting for a chance to stay out in the light with me.

Not traveling up north left us with an entire day to relax and do whatever we wanted, which should have been nice, right? Our son even went off to a friend’s house for the holiday, so Blue Eyes and I had plenty of time to be playful (i.e., naked). The day, unfortunately, felt completely unbalanced to me. I don’t really even remember what started my downward slide, but I could feel it coming. I could feel myself reaching out to Blue Eyes for answers, for support in my time of pain knowing it was a fruitless endeavor. Sunday was the one year mark of mine and Blue Eyes trip to Camilla’s workplace. The Reconnaissance Mission, or our stakeout, if you will, of the hospital parking garage. My first real glimpse of the woman my husband was willing to throw me under the bus for. And, it was then, on that July evening, (with my broken partner of 30 years reclining by my side in a stocking cap and sunglasses on a dark, warm summer night) that I realized my husband would never risk anything for that woman, but he would risk everything for his addiction. There is some sick part of me that feels like if I could just talk to Camilla, convince her that I am not the person my husband described, that he only did that to protect his secret drug, that I never neglected anyone, that I literally poured everything I have into my marriage and my family, that I am the innocent victim in this, that I feel like I am lying naked on the floor, bleeding to death from the wounds inflicted on me by my husband, and no one is coming to my aid. I want her to understand ME, the real me, not the person Blue Eyes conjured up in his addictive state. But I know this will never happen and I know it is not Camilla that needs to be convinced. Camilla is not a stable person. But more than that, she means nothing to me. It is only because I am still broken that I would care what this stranger thinks about me. Not only that, I have learned from my dear blogger friends how dangerous it can be to reach out to a delusional woman and try to be reasonable.

After I spent a good two hours of our precious day together sobbing, Blue Eyes made us a delicious dinner and we ate out on the deck together. I was still not completely over my break down. We talked about a number of the ways in the past that Blue Eyes had deflected his own sense of shame, and guilt, and self absorption onto me. In the past, I did not take it seriously. He would make jokes at my expense. He would belittle me, always in a joking way, in front of my family. Not all the time, of course, just when he was feeling ungrounded or less than self assured and he built himself up that way. He learned that one up/one down behavior from his narcissistic mother. Well, it’s my fucking family and I know they know and love me for who I am and so I never thought it bothered me, but I do have the memory of an elephant, and maybe it did bother me but I was unwilling to consciously acknowledge it. Even at couple’s therapy Blue Eyes has said things I felt he was saying just to make himself feel better, or to deflect off of him and on to me. For example, at a session last month, he told Ms. Second Chance that sometimes he “worries” about me now because he returns home from work and I am still in my “pajamas” and I haven’t taken a shower and I am “hunched over my computer.” Well, I would imagine even my blog followers remember from past posts that I do not wear “pajamas.” I also do not take showers every day. My skin and my hair are excruciatingly dry. I am a clean person, but showers dry me out. It has nothing to do with being depressed. I have always been this way. Blue Eyes knows this, but society says we cannot wear pajamas all day (in this case I guess he is considering shorts and a t-shirt, or sweats and a t-shirt pajamas?) and we should all shower every day. Saying these things to a marriage counselor and implying they are signs of depression in your spouse, when you know the therapist already wants to somehow blame the spouse for the addict’s inability to focus on themselves and their own recovery, is pure and simple, manipulation. Do I know this? Can I recognize this as it is happening? Well, fuck yes. But here are my options. Wait until after the therapy appointment and discuss with Blue Eyes how I recognize he is deflecting and maybe he should discuss his behavior with his personal therapist (which I did). Or, I can bring it up during the therapy session and no matter how mature or together I am or I sound, I will be accused of being petty and not recognizing my own signs of depression, which has also happened. Many times the therapist has actually said, “you sound defensive, maybe we have hit a nerve here.” Yes, the nerve you have hit is my fucking bullshit meter going off the charts.

As we were eating dinner on Saturday, I explained to Blue Eyes how he must think now about everything he says and why he is saying it. No more careless words thrown out not because he doesn’t love me, or he thinks I deserve to be ridiculed, or gaslighted, or blamed, but because he, himself, the guy who is suffering from the “disease of me” as he so often likes to describe it, must be aware of how his words and actions hurt me. They really hurt me. Deflection and rationalization are no longer part of our marriage. I can’t and won’t have it. I have done nothing wrong and I won’t be deflected to. He cannot use me as his patsy or his scapegoat because it is too difficult to really connect with himself on an intimate level to determine exactly where his words and actions are coming from. I would rather wait 15 minutes for a responsible, mature, mindful, self aware answer than have him blurt out some inane, “I’m sorry,” or “that must make you feel so bad.” It all matters to me now. Everything I was able to brush aside before, because I knew he was insecure and lacked coping skills in certain circumstances but I also knew he wouldn’t hurt me, will no longer be ignored, or excused. His words and actions feel horrible now, because now, I know he is willing to hurt me in pursuit of his drug. He has some really bad habits and habits are a bitch to change and the only way to do it, is by replacing old bad habits with new good ones. I absofuckinglutely hate being a punching bag for his old bad habits.

I know there is really some other reason I want the other woman to know the truth. I actually really want her to just be gone forever, literally wiped off the face of the planet, but knowing that is not going to happen, maybe the other woman represents everyone, and telling her my truth represents justice. Maybe the fact that my partner, the person I love most in the world, would betray me so deeply has left a bigger hole than I can consciously absorb, and maybe somehow I still think his betrayal represents a weakness in me, because his hurtful and deflective words have left their mark, lingering there in the back of my mind. Deep inside I know I am still climbing my own mountain out of the darkness and there are days when I have literally run out of energy. Maybe the other woman represents all the ways in which my husband used me as the fall guy for his own brokenness, and thinking about the other woman is just deflection from my personal journey of healing, which feels like Mount fucking Everest right now.

There’s nothing where he used to lie
My inspiration has run dry
That’s what’s goin’ on
Nothing’s right I’m torn

I’m all out of faith
This is how I feel
I’m cold and I am shamed
Lying naked on the floor
Illusion never changed
Into something real
I’m wide awake and I can see
The perfect sky is torn

I’m all out of faith
This is how I feel
I’m cold and I am shamed
Bound and broken on the floor
You’re a little late
I’m already torn
Torn