Sometimes I feel like I need to put out a disclaimer before I start typing. Although we are moving forward together, me with Blue eyes, and I am healing, and I keep writing because it helps me feel better in the moment, this ride is so tumultuous, some days I feel like I’m going to be sick. I have written before, and still hold by that truth, that I had never suffered not even one day of depression before discovery. I mean sure, I had moments of sadness, anger, frustration, despair, all natural emotions, but they were truly moments (not weeks, months, or even days) and they weren’t necessarily focused at Blue Eyes. I mean yeah, most of the frustration was, to be honest, because we are so very different in personality. I was frustrated by how disorganized he was, how much he worked, and how little time he carved out for me and the boys in the scheme of things, etc… etc… etc… all water under the bridge now. When he was with us, he was a pretty great husband and a fun and present Dad. I accepted him for who he was, and vice versa, warts and all.
After discovery, everything changed. I cannot really think of anything that didn’t change. Our lives will never be the same, never look the same. I cannot un-see what has been seen (mostly I conjure images in my imagination of his bad acts). I can’t un-hear what has been heard and I especially cannot un-do what has been done. My march forward bears all the painful truth that was hidden before discovery. I am truly grateful that my journey so far, all 1,254 days of it, has included much healing. I literally can go days now without thinking about the other woman, without thinking about the disgusting behavior of Blue Eyes’ secret life, and I do not, at this point, think of leaving him anymore. Unfortunately, with all that progress, the pain is still there, sometimes in the most subtle of ways, and I’m pretty sure it will never ever leave me.
It started last week. Blue Eyes was out of town for the day and I needed to take the dogs to doggie daycare. He had taken my car and left me with the dog car. The morning started out so ordinary. I hooked the dogs up to their leashes and we headed out to the old Volvo. This used to be my car. I sat in the driver seat and adjusted the mirrors and out of nowhere, I was struck by an image of the other woman driving my car to Seattle. Something I hadn’t really thought about for… years? Sitting there in my old car, with the dogs staring expectantly at me from the back seat, I felt physically ill. That nauseous feeling just swept right through me. I didn’t know what to do with it. I was aware of where this feeling could send me. Should I stay in the moment and feel those feelings again, possibly leading me to a crying jag or worse? Should I center myself with a little deep breathing and meditation. Should I get out of the car and go back inside the house and throw up? I felt like I needed to. And, truthfully, the dog car smells badly of dog. I’m rarely in this car anymore and I wonder how Blue Eyes can tolerate it. That makes me wonder why he doesn’t take the effort to clean it more often. Honestly, he still has the distinct talent of compartmentalizing so much, apparently even the smell of dirty dog. I opted to just sit in the moment. I opened the windows and there was a nice cool breeze. I took deep breaths of the fresh air and mindfully cleared all the thoughts from my head. I sat like that for close to 10 minutes, listening to the birds and the distant sounds of traffic. I did okay at getting out of the tough spot, and I made it back home having blocked out the destructive image, but that melancholy stayed with me.
While we were in Los Angeles, I had a few rough moments. At one point Blue Eyes actually said, out loud, “I’m tired of being reminded of my bad acts.” That made me feel totally alone. Of course he apologized, but the words were already out there. The rest of the time, I felt like something was missing. When Blue Eyes was with me, I could feel my energy seeping out of me. When he was off to meetings, things seemed less stressful, and my mood improved.
Yesterday we drove to the beach house to check on everything. We had a company deep clean the house (there was so much construction dust) and also do the windows, which were filthy from all the coastal storms the past few months.
Unfortunately, our time at the beach house was short as Blue Eyes needed to be back for more out of town meetings today, and I need to pack and prepare for Paris. As I got into the driver seat of my car outside the beach house last night, I noticed a longish blonde hair stuck in the headrest of my seat. I don’t have blonde hair. I don’t know anyone that would be in the car that would have long blonde hair, especially in the driver seat. It brought back memories of me and the boys visiting his work apartments in California all those years ago and noticing long hairs in the shower drains. He always had an excuse. The cleaning person he had hired (what cleaning person leaves hair in the drains???)… his roommate’s girlfriend probably used his shower? Of course they really belonged to the first other woman. She had been to both his apartments. He was so quick to offer an excuse, then. This time he just looked at me, as confused as I. He had the car cleaned after our Yosemite trip. He parked my car with the valet service at the airport a few days ago. He had no clue how the hair got there. Funny I hadn’t noticed it before. It was really stuck in there.
Even though I don’t believe the hair is from some new other woman, and frankly it makes me tired just thinking that, I still feel off. As I have said many times, menopause is kicking my ass. I am emotionally drained. I know I have some kind of minor depression. I don’t feel altogether sad, I feel tired. Tired of dealing with all of it.
So, I’m sorry because I’m not bringing a burst of light and joy into the world today. I’m sorry that writing out my problems helps me feel better because I know people who read might feel worse. I’m sorry that there isn’t some magic pill that makes all this go away. I’m sorry that I feel so dark on such a gloriously beautiful almost summer day. I think I’ll take a nap and hope to dream of Paris… four days and counting. Paris is going to be grand! ❤