Okay. Jump in headfirst, right?
For those of you who know me from OD, you are mostly aware of my former life. Jessie, the kids, happy-dappy life, American Dream and all that bullshit. Toss it out the window, and I'll tell you what it really was - and introduce the rest of you to what it is.
It wasn't always bad with Jess. We started off good, and had a lot of good years together. That's the truth, I was and think he was very satisfied with what we had. And he loved me, I loved him, for a long time, perhaps longer than we deserved to,
All good things must come to an end.
I think I may have started to see the tarnish when I realized how much I was glossing over in OD entries, Sure, I wrote about the good and the wonderful, but I was leaving out the uglier parts. By San Antonio, I was becoming a little resentful because he had a chance to transfer to St. Louis, just up the road from my hometown and family. But we went, and for a while, it was okay. I liked it well enough, things were happy on the surface, but far from perfect once the layers were peeled away.
During our time there, two very important things happened. One was meeting Amy and Marty, the other was becoming pregnant with J2, our youngest. Unfortunately the two collided, and Jess and Amy began an affair, while I was pregnant and beyond our son's birth. But what comes first, the chicken or the egg? I went through a nasty bout of PPD, and coupled with my suspicion-slash-knowledge, things spiraled and I began drinking. Heavily. I will never know if I began drinking because of his infidelity and my resulting unhappiness, or if he was cheating because I no longer interested him, whatever. Either way, those were the two key things leading to our downfall.
To just keep it short and sweet, I will just go on to say that after Amy there was Micaela, who he got pregnant and we paid for an abortion, to his current one, Laura. She, he was seeing, sleeping with, and introducing her to our kids and having her stay over for weekends before I even knew she existed on planet earth. And looking back, I know there were others before, and in between, those are just the only three I have actual verifiable proof of and could legally subpoena for testimony.
And am I bitter? Sure. I spent 15 years raising our kids, moving with him, supporting his decisions, being this great wife and mom, to end up with no education (no money, no time, think of the daycare expenses and what would you ever use it for, anyway?) and trying to scrape by on less than half what equals the poverty level. He is making 115K a year, and I am applying for Medicaid, food stamps, HUD housing and legal aid. Bitter? Bet your sweet ass I am. I feel like I was stomped on like a bug, and tossed into the toilet to be flushed after he took a shit on me.
I am doing my absolute best to do the right things at the right times for the right reasons with the right attitude. But it's hard, let me tell you, it is fucking HARD. I can't let this define me, but damned if I don't feel like a worthless piece of trash most of the time. I am grateful for all I have but terrified I will lose it at any moment, and that has made me become a miserly penny-pincher. It has left me angry and broken hearted. Empty. Dead inside. If it weren't for anger and sadness I am not sure I would realize I was alive, because those are the only emotions I really FEEL. I love, I sometimes laugh, but it feels hollow. Like my love really isn't worth anything, and my laughter isn't for me, it is to make others feel happiness. And I like to bring happiness to others, so that is bittersweet.
I miss me. I fucking miss everything about me. And I am scared beyond belief I will never find me again, and every day will consist of making others believe I'm okay and I am a million times stronger than I am. That just adds to the deadness. I'm faking my own life.
So there you have it. Oh, tons of tidbits I could toss in, but there's no point. This is about me, and how I feel, and how he makes me feel. It isn't about him. For once, my heart has turned so cold that I don't care, not even a tiny bit, about him.
Falling in love, being in love, was so much better than crashing out of it.
For old times sake, you nifty OD'ers who have kept me together with duct tape, this one's for you:
does the laurie
(may not have much, but he can't take that away from me)
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