Me having a rough time of it usually precipitates a deep and open kind of communication that we had not really had before d-day. Until your world shatters into a million little pieces, there doesn’t seem to be a need to sit around and talk all day about promises, and behaviors, and other women, and business trips from seven years ago, etc…
Last night Blue Eyes and I stayed up too late talking about “the incident.” You know, the one from yesterday where I got upset because he was happy to see a text from a friend. It is time for me to stop wishing Blue Eyes will spontaneously morph into this perfect man who knows exactly what I am thinking and then responds in kind. Blue Eyes is never going to be able to read my mind. He’s never going to think like I do. He will never be like me. He never was like me. If he had been, he never would have done the things he did. As I said last night, there has never been a day in my life that I would do any of the things he did. I could not imagine sitting in bed with another man lying about Blue Eyes in order to keep a deep dark and disgusting secret. My mind immediately goes to a place where I ask myself, “is what I am doing going to hurt someone, especially someone I care deeply about, someone I have promised to honor and cherish for the rest of my life?” That is my litmus test. Am I hurting someone. I learned it at a very young age. I knew what it felt like to have someone do something that hurt. It didn’t feel good and I didn’t want to do that to anyone else.
But enough about me, because Blue Eyes never lived by that rule. His rule included blocking out other people’s feelings in order to feed the broken down child deep inside. Me talking about what I would have done or what I would do is never going to work. Instead, we talked about how I still desperately want him to go to that place and pull out those memories. I want him to talk about what he did in a way that brings it out of the deep recesses of his broken mind and into the bright light of day… a day that includes me and honesty and humility. I told him when I went to that day where I went home and retrieved his passport so he could spend a week with a whore in a Tokyo hotel room, I wanted him to acknowledge his own memory of that situation. I wanted him to tell me what he was thinking. I want to understand where his head was at… I know it wasn’t a good place, but I still want to visit that place.
I told him my instinct was it was their first out of town trip together. The day was sunny and mild, which it might have been in April 2008 (as opposed to January 2009, or February 2010–remember, their trips were few and far between). He was acting like a whack job. I believe he hadn’t honed his skills yet and that is why he forgot his passport in the first place. Lo and behold, he sat there last night and went to that place in his memory. He said he does remember heaving a huge sigh of relief when I showed up with the passport. He said he was afraid of what the OW’s response would have been if he had had to postpone the trip. At every turn she was threatening a phone call to me. It was already a tenuous situation with all the rules he had enacted for their time together and he wasn’t even sure how it would work, or if it would work. He also said he remembered being even more worried about missing his carefully planned business meetings. Flights to Japan are long and expensive. It is not polite to cancel meetings with executives of companies in foreign countries because you were ungrounded and careless and forgot your passport at home. There was a whole lot of stress piled on worry piled on anxiety.
His openness about that one incident led to further discussions of how he never ever wanted to hurt me. Big crocodile tears rolled down his cheeks as he talked about how much I mean to him. He still doesn’t understand how he did the things he did and I get that. It still flabbergasts me to think about, but I do get it.
Somehow hearing him talk about where he was at and me being able to match up the stories, as incongruous as they are, makes me feel better. It helps me put the missing pieces of the puzzle in their place. It helps me understand how his addiction worked. It helps me reconcile our differences.