Panic

hard to breathe.  can barely walk forward.  get in the church.  realize that it's going to be even harder.  something about getting that letter this week.  something about knowing that he tells a different story.  not my story.  that i am invisible.  that the "how are yous" are way too hard for me.  that i want to say how relieved i am.  but that's not ok.
and there i sat in the service.  soaking in the music.  loving so much.  and having a regret that he has taken so much more from me than he has ever given.  and now he has taken away the one place that all of my life was home.  my church home.  my life was difficult.  but my heart was safe at church.  now...not so much.  it's too much to ask of me to go on my own.  when my kids are there, it's different.  not so...naked.  so exposed. i just needed to leave.  my heart was pounding.  i was cold.  i was hot.  i was in a panic.  i just couldn't do it.  knew i couldn't stay on my own.
you know, family provides a safe shelter.  friends can too.  but i'm learning that he has given a story or account of his own to them.  and unless i want to simply say that he's an ass then i can't refute it.  i have to let it go.  but it means walking alone for the most part.  it means that they look but don't ask.  it means that they are praying for me from his perspective....that i'll get back on track.
i cannot believe how much better i feel with him gone.  and i guess i thought that with him away this week, it would be better.  but somehow it hit me.  he makes it his place.  he tells my friends....people who i knew and was friends with....his story.  i have a hard time now.  because i just don't have fight in me anymore.  not interested.  i just wish that there was somewhere where i could get hugged.  where i could just rant.  where i could cry until i'm done.
so. i ran home.  ran to my covers.  this computer.  and here i am.  writing.  crying.  bawling.  makes my eyes burn.  lucky i can type without seeing. :)
but i cry out.  it's not fair.  he's not fair.  he simply makes it look like he is so wounded.  so wronged.  mean woman that filed papers on him and what could he do?  and look how he just had to give up his kids because it's best for them.  and he has to work so much that he doesn't have time.  and he's so sorry.
and i have to look into faces of people who have heard his story.  and not tell mine.  and know that they are bothered.  that they think i'm doing wrong.
i just wish that i was seen.  too many coping skills make me look alright.  even when i'm really hurting. don't even have to try to hide it.  just do.  of course, at church, i worked at holding those tears in, because with them was the sobbing and the shaking.  the meltdown.  and that's ok.  need them now and then.  sorrow.  for what might have been.  for what i dreamed of.  and sorrow for how wrong i was.  how horribly he damaged me.  i don't have to live there...but sometimes, i have to fight again the panic that shakes me.  but i still walked into the church.  and though i was nearly running by the time i left....i made it out.  i didn't pass out or make a huge scene.  that's good.  well, at least it's something.
i can't do it on my own.  i feel like a target.  vulnerable.
i don't want to hide.  but i do want to feel safe.  protected.
maybe i'll go to the picnic.  we'll see.  small talk isn't easy.
blessings.