Yesterday was a day off school. I have about a dozen things that I'd like to do around my house. Yet, even without my husband here, I find myself feeling lethargic, depressed and like all I want to do is crawl under the covers and sleep. So, I went to thrift stores. The boys were on a trip to the big city to an arcade where the games are a NICKEL! A friend and I shopped. Had some food. Avoided the reality that has become my constant in life. The uncomfortable, horrible, amazingly, incredibly hard reality. He is still here. And that seems hard enough. But add to that the fact that I started this process and the stress that keeps building. When I got home last night, he personally delivered me a piece of mail...identical to a piece he had. He stood a foot away from me...literally...and asked if he should open it. He asked me what it was. It was from the court. A declaration of our case. He said he thought I hadn't filed. I reminded him that I had told him the day that I filed. I said that I hadn't had him served. I said that the paper was probably about the court date. "The court date?? There's a COURT date?!" He waited for me to open mine. I did so....as nonchalantly as I could muster. I looked it over and said, "look kinda the same as all of those other papers I gave you. Then I sat it down on the living room end table and backed up. He opened his. Started looking. Finally, he walked away. He went over it forever in the other room. Went to the car to get something else while looking it over. Sharpened a pencil. Went and got a file folder from the filing cabinet. I know he was hurt. But he was also angry. He thought that I had "fallen in line", I guess.
But while I have continued to pursue this a bit at a time, as well as I can do, it's SO hard that it threatens to undo me. It threatens to cause me to implode. I am so.....hurting. So.....scared. So......tired of having to stand up and having him tell me how I can't. And doing it anyway and having to come home and face him day after day after day. His still being here while I'm going through this is proving to be more challenging than I ever imagined.
And I can't just keep leaning on everyone. Spewing my fear and drama. I hate that lifestyle. I thought that I missed having a nuclear family when I was a child. But the words for how bereft I feel now don't even exist. No built in "buddies"...."safe zone". None that I am supposed to have the right to simply expect. To just know are mine and that no matter how much or how hard I lean, they are ok with it. The missing is like a physical, daily ache. What he has taken from me is more than he even acknowledges. He came in with a failsafe.....a place to run......a group that always picks him. And always has. And it gives him a sense of "rightness". A sens of strength. A sense of comfort. I can tell. Because no matter what I've ever said or felt, he had this group...this family....that would side with him, have his back. But me? I'm reduced to cowering on the couch. Holding my computer. Half sitting. Certainly not pouring out my feelings, just surfing the web, doing nothing. That's what I did while he stayed up forever. Finally, I was so overwrought that I turned out the light and half sat, half laid on the couch, glasses on, phone by me...charging...head nearly covered, but looking the right way so that I wouldn't be caught off guard if he came. It was horrible. Again.
Troubled and hurting. I wanted to go somewhere...but couldn't even begin to think of where I could be. It was an awful feeling. Again. Played like a refrain in my current situation. Wanting to walk out the door to safety. But not knowing where that was. And that gives him power. And I hate that. So I stayed there. Trying not to sleep in my exhausted state. Dozing off finally as I shook from the inside out. In my jeans. And sweater. Ready to flee. But honestly.....where would I go? He knows I'll be back.....I don't have anywhere to stay except for in my car. Sometimes I think of leaving the state. I just want to get somewhere I feel.....protected. Like he won't show up. The living room isn't working. I want a locked door. On a house. With others who will also awake if something happens.
And now begins the weekend. And I can stay home and hide in plain sight or go away in the car and sit in a parking lot for hours. I can hide at a bookstore. I can wander the Target. I can see friends and act like it is for them...good and fun, but just normal....when, for me, it feels like someone who has been wandering the desert and is getting the first drink of water in days. Seriously, when I walk in my friend's house and feel the sense of things being ok coming over me....knowing that she won't let anyone mess with me there....it's nearly more than my heart can handle. Weird? It's because I know that I have to bolster myself up. I have to get ready. Because I have a short time to soak it up.....and then I have to be able to walk out that door and face the world again. Alone. And nobody in the house knows. And I have to be normal. And sometimes, walking to my car is the longest journey. And the thing is.....it's not her job. She has her own life, her own good stuff, her own hard stuff. She's a friend. And there need to be boundaries.
It's the wee hours of the morning. My faithful dog is standing here beside me. His nose resting lightly on my shaking arm as the tears stream down my face in a house dark except for the screen of my computer. He is troubled. He is a good dog. He knows that while it's not too abnormal for me to awaken and be on the computer, tonight is abnormal because of the heightened stress. He senses it. Wish he were a people.
The quavering, in the center of my body along with the stiffening, of my limbs...chilled from the inside out. I don't even know how to describe it to anyone. And it's not because I think that he's going to beat me. It's so subtle. So intensely painful without ever striking me. And no matter what I want, even if he says he gets it, nothing ever changes or turns around in my favor. And he seems so nice. And so kind. And so good. And I know that nobody gets where I'm living. Where my basic needs are not heard. Where I can cry myself to sleep and always have at different times...and that is fine. As long as it doesn't take away from him. From what he wants. It's so hard now because I stand, protecting who I am and what I want and don't back away. Oh, I back off some...but I don't leave my post in guarding this woman that i am coming to remember how important she is. It's my job. As surely as I would protect any of my friends or even my children, I owe it to her. But, tonight, I almost gave up. Left my post. Left her to die. Because it's just too hard.
I dozed off. Awakened. Writing. Teeth clenched. Body freezing. Arms and legs held in. I am a mess. I wish that I could walk out right now. But where would I go in these wee hours? I know. It's pathetic. So I lie, waiting for the light to come. Waiting to hide through another weekend day. Hoping against hope that somehow I'll figure out a way to take a nap in a place where I don't feel so vulnerable. Those parking lots are a little bit awkward. I mean, it's not that big of a city. People know my cars. At parks, they look at you like you're homeless. It's neverending. And I am weary. I need to be tucked in. Left to sleep. To really rest. I need to be hugged and comforted.
There's no more to really write, but I hesitate. Not wanting to leave this place of connection. To turn off this light. To be alone again. But, the morning approaches. It has been a long time. I will get up...yet exhausted. Having to face his presence. Not able to go be in my kitchen. Cooking helps me. But that's where he camps out.
He won't go. Because we don't have the money he says. And how that's my fault too. And how I don't understand. I get it. Now, I need an adult who can find a solution. The bile rises in my throat as I think of having that battle again today. Why can't he actually see how distressed I am and meet my need? Go. Give me what I have outwardly asked for. Explained. Told him that I NEED? Because it never gets to be about me. And I am wrong because he is doing right to "fight" for his marriage. And I don't know what to say. I've said all of the words. I've done what everyone says I need to do to stand up. But he never lets my words past the filter that talks in his head about how wrong I am and how right he is. How he is being righteous and good to stay and do what he's doing. That's all he sees. I wish that I had a daddy that would "have a talk" with him. Or big brothers. I wish that I had anyone in the world that was mine. That would actually be "mine" and it would be my right to talk to them and let it all out. I have the counselor at the safe shelter. After a lifetime of thinking how I have created and been gifted a life...I have a safe shelter. Wow. Because when it all comes down to it in life, the thing that matters to everyone is family. And this one right here is what I've got.
Hard to breathe. Through the tears. And the stress. The tight throat. I hate having him do that thing right before I'm getting ready to sleep.....and he always does.
I want to get up right now and walk out the door. I'm............traumatized. Not just sad. Not just weary....traumatized. It's awful.
Ok. Gotta get off sometime.
grace.
But while I have continued to pursue this a bit at a time, as well as I can do, it's SO hard that it threatens to undo me. It threatens to cause me to implode. I am so.....hurting. So.....scared. So......tired of having to stand up and having him tell me how I can't. And doing it anyway and having to come home and face him day after day after day. His still being here while I'm going through this is proving to be more challenging than I ever imagined.
And I can't just keep leaning on everyone. Spewing my fear and drama. I hate that lifestyle. I thought that I missed having a nuclear family when I was a child. But the words for how bereft I feel now don't even exist. No built in "buddies"...."safe zone". None that I am supposed to have the right to simply expect. To just know are mine and that no matter how much or how hard I lean, they are ok with it. The missing is like a physical, daily ache. What he has taken from me is more than he even acknowledges. He came in with a failsafe.....a place to run......a group that always picks him. And always has. And it gives him a sense of "rightness". A sens of strength. A sense of comfort. I can tell. Because no matter what I've ever said or felt, he had this group...this family....that would side with him, have his back. But me? I'm reduced to cowering on the couch. Holding my computer. Half sitting. Certainly not pouring out my feelings, just surfing the web, doing nothing. That's what I did while he stayed up forever. Finally, I was so overwrought that I turned out the light and half sat, half laid on the couch, glasses on, phone by me...charging...head nearly covered, but looking the right way so that I wouldn't be caught off guard if he came. It was horrible. Again.
Troubled and hurting. I wanted to go somewhere...but couldn't even begin to think of where I could be. It was an awful feeling. Again. Played like a refrain in my current situation. Wanting to walk out the door to safety. But not knowing where that was. And that gives him power. And I hate that. So I stayed there. Trying not to sleep in my exhausted state. Dozing off finally as I shook from the inside out. In my jeans. And sweater. Ready to flee. But honestly.....where would I go? He knows I'll be back.....I don't have anywhere to stay except for in my car. Sometimes I think of leaving the state. I just want to get somewhere I feel.....protected. Like he won't show up. The living room isn't working. I want a locked door. On a house. With others who will also awake if something happens.
And now begins the weekend. And I can stay home and hide in plain sight or go away in the car and sit in a parking lot for hours. I can hide at a bookstore. I can wander the Target. I can see friends and act like it is for them...good and fun, but just normal....when, for me, it feels like someone who has been wandering the desert and is getting the first drink of water in days. Seriously, when I walk in my friend's house and feel the sense of things being ok coming over me....knowing that she won't let anyone mess with me there....it's nearly more than my heart can handle. Weird? It's because I know that I have to bolster myself up. I have to get ready. Because I have a short time to soak it up.....and then I have to be able to walk out that door and face the world again. Alone. And nobody in the house knows. And I have to be normal. And sometimes, walking to my car is the longest journey. And the thing is.....it's not her job. She has her own life, her own good stuff, her own hard stuff. She's a friend. And there need to be boundaries.
It's the wee hours of the morning. My faithful dog is standing here beside me. His nose resting lightly on my shaking arm as the tears stream down my face in a house dark except for the screen of my computer. He is troubled. He is a good dog. He knows that while it's not too abnormal for me to awaken and be on the computer, tonight is abnormal because of the heightened stress. He senses it. Wish he were a people.
The quavering, in the center of my body along with the stiffening, of my limbs...chilled from the inside out. I don't even know how to describe it to anyone. And it's not because I think that he's going to beat me. It's so subtle. So intensely painful without ever striking me. And no matter what I want, even if he says he gets it, nothing ever changes or turns around in my favor. And he seems so nice. And so kind. And so good. And I know that nobody gets where I'm living. Where my basic needs are not heard. Where I can cry myself to sleep and always have at different times...and that is fine. As long as it doesn't take away from him. From what he wants. It's so hard now because I stand, protecting who I am and what I want and don't back away. Oh, I back off some...but I don't leave my post in guarding this woman that i am coming to remember how important she is. It's my job. As surely as I would protect any of my friends or even my children, I owe it to her. But, tonight, I almost gave up. Left my post. Left her to die. Because it's just too hard.
I dozed off. Awakened. Writing. Teeth clenched. Body freezing. Arms and legs held in. I am a mess. I wish that I could walk out right now. But where would I go in these wee hours? I know. It's pathetic. So I lie, waiting for the light to come. Waiting to hide through another weekend day. Hoping against hope that somehow I'll figure out a way to take a nap in a place where I don't feel so vulnerable. Those parking lots are a little bit awkward. I mean, it's not that big of a city. People know my cars. At parks, they look at you like you're homeless. It's neverending. And I am weary. I need to be tucked in. Left to sleep. To really rest. I need to be hugged and comforted.
There's no more to really write, but I hesitate. Not wanting to leave this place of connection. To turn off this light. To be alone again. But, the morning approaches. It has been a long time. I will get up...yet exhausted. Having to face his presence. Not able to go be in my kitchen. Cooking helps me. But that's where he camps out.
He won't go. Because we don't have the money he says. And how that's my fault too. And how I don't understand. I get it. Now, I need an adult who can find a solution. The bile rises in my throat as I think of having that battle again today. Why can't he actually see how distressed I am and meet my need? Go. Give me what I have outwardly asked for. Explained. Told him that I NEED? Because it never gets to be about me. And I am wrong because he is doing right to "fight" for his marriage. And I don't know what to say. I've said all of the words. I've done what everyone says I need to do to stand up. But he never lets my words past the filter that talks in his head about how wrong I am and how right he is. How he is being righteous and good to stay and do what he's doing. That's all he sees. I wish that I had a daddy that would "have a talk" with him. Or big brothers. I wish that I had anyone in the world that was mine. That would actually be "mine" and it would be my right to talk to them and let it all out. I have the counselor at the safe shelter. After a lifetime of thinking how I have created and been gifted a life...I have a safe shelter. Wow. Because when it all comes down to it in life, the thing that matters to everyone is family. And this one right here is what I've got.
Hard to breathe. Through the tears. And the stress. The tight throat. I hate having him do that thing right before I'm getting ready to sleep.....and he always does.
I want to get up right now and walk out the door. I'm............traumatized. Not just sad. Not just weary....traumatized. It's awful.
Ok. Gotta get off sometime.
grace.
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