The weather has cooled a bit here and the blue sky is covered in clouds. Unfortunately the clouds will not bring the much needed rain to naturally water our parched plants. We haven’t had a cloudy day in weeks. It’s okay, but rain would be excellent.
I have started my cherry blossom painting with my new oils while watching the men’s semifinal matches at Wimbledon. Oil paint on brush to canvas feels so good to me, so natural, so right. I can’t wait until the painting really comes together. Oils take longer because they dry so slowly, but are so worth it.
Even with being in a currently very positive place, trauma visited me yesterday afternoon. I spent a short bit of time feeling less than. I felt like if I had been good enough, my husband would not have strayed, addiction or not. I know this is a very negative path to go down and I quickly turned myself around. I despise the fact that women are treated as objects and body parts are judged by society, especially female body parts. I hate that so many betrayed feel like physical appearance played a large role in their betrayal stories. Most of the time I do not believe that at all. Being broken on the inside plays a large role in betrayal. My dip into the low self esteem pool happened right before Blue Eyes got home from work. I shared it with him with tears in my eyes and pain in my heart and an ache in my throat. He reassured me that nothing he did was because of anything I am, and deep down I know this, but I still get down sometimes.
I have been extra tense because we are in the final stages of construction financing for our beach house and they are making us jump through about a million hoops, and our mortgage banker is an idiot. He is a conventionally handsome 50-ish man surrounded by a harem of women at his office who dote on him hand and foot. Sure, most of it is their job, but I hate walking into offices that are banally generic and where the private offices around the perimeters (with the windows and the views) are filled with arrogant, self absorbed men and the cubicles all throughout the middle are filled with women struggling to get by and feeling it necessary to kiss up to (or literally kiss) these guys. I am tired of being manipulated, in general, in my life.
I went to bed thinking about budgets and money and large house payments and decided to read my book to calm me down. Blue Eyes was hinting at sex, but I wasn’t in the mood. I felt used and I once again questioned Blue Eyes and his sanity and just exactly where his mind was when he decided to fuck and or fuck with other women in places where we, me and his boys, lived or worked. Why couldn’t he keep it separate. Why did it seem so personal. Why couldn’t he keep his dirty “little” secret away from our houses and our business. I feel violated. He, of course, said he didn’t know, which is the best I can hope for I guess because there is no good answer to my questions. I rolled over to my side of the bed and opened my book to read. Within three seconds flat, Blue Eyes was asleep and snoring. How nice to be able to block it all out and fall blissfully asleep, just like that. He only snores when he is sick, or bone tired, so I know the man is exhausted. It took me two hours to get to sleep and then he was up at 5:45am getting ready for his meeting. I was not able to get back to sleep after he came back into our room three times because he forgot this or that. I am surviving on three hours sleep. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in days. I should probably just focus on this one goal for now: to get a full night’s sleep.