Shame On Me

images

“Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, shame on me.”

Shame on me. Shame, shame, shame.

We are just about ready to close on our new house. We are packing boxes for the move. B is acting like the man I used to know…loving, taking my hand, looking into my eyes, telling me he loves me numerous times a day. I feel like a school girl again. Life is good. Until Tuesday.

At 7 am B walks downstairs and tells me he has not been feeling good since Friday. He needs to go to the doctor. Oh, and he feels guilty that I went for HIV test after finding out about his three year affair with our tour guide in Vietnam and he will get tested just in case.  Oh and he has something on his dick.

He returns home.

“So did the doctor look at your dick?”

“NO, I didn’t show it to him, He just ordered panels.”

“Okay, that makes no sense. Why would you go and worry you have something but not show it to him?”

Let me look. I see nothing. My antenna are now a mile high in the sky. Well, actually they were when he told me he was going to the doctor in the weird way he did so. That is just not like him.

On Wednesday morning he has had night sweats for three days and is up at 2 am. He is frantic. He tells me he is feeling really ill and has been sick for days and lost 6 pounds yesterday. He needs to go to the ER now. The man is out of his mind kind of frantic. Crazy nuts kind of frantic. Weird. As he is about to leave he grabs my hand and says:

“I think I caught something. While you took our son to a specialist on Friday (he fractured a bone Thursday) I went to a massage parlor and had unprotected sex. I swear I have never done  anything like that before. That is why I have been avoiding you sexually. I think I caught something and don’t want to give it to you.” (He is still waiting for those Brownie points!)

“Wow,” I say. “If you wanted a divorce all you had to do was ask.”

And off he goes.

That morning I hired an attorney. I am filing for divorce. I also asked the court to step in and oversee a large sum of money that is coming our way the last day of the month. I have to protect our family and make sure that he won’t get the money and skip town to Vietnam with all of it, leaving me unable to care for our kids. Do I think he would do that? NO. Am I sure? NO. I don’t know anything anymore. I can’t believe anything anymore. I have been living an illusion for these past many years. I also wonder if he is suffering from mental illness that runs in his family.

He, of course, is down on one knee begging for forgiveness. Trying to get me to move  with him while he “works on himself.” He is currently at a Catholic church praying for God to help him. He keeps sending me articles like “Five Reasons Christians Fail to Overcome Lust.” (Maybe the problem is you are not a Christian or you are trying to act like something you are not?)

Meanwhile, I flew to New York yesterday to clear my head and be with my son. I am trying to practice compassion for myself, love myself and just be kind to myself. I have had three years of chaos and I just want the freedom to grieve, take it easy and let someone take care of me for a change.

Our children who live at home are unaware of what is going on at this point. I am:

heartbroken

beyond sad

and wondering how I will ever be able to trust again.

I am trying not to be angry or bitter as It will only hurt me in the end. BUT…

my dreams have been thrown down the rabbit hole again but this time there is no soft landing. I am bruised and broken but somehow I will survive.

 

 

I Wonder If…A 10-Minute Poem Challange

At night I hear

Your ragged breath

And wonder if…

It was soft and peaceful

With her

I wonder if…

You touched her

In that soft and gentle way

That you used to stroke me

When we made love

I wonder if…

images-1

Her lips tasted sweeter

Than mine

Her moans were

More urgent

Than mine

And if…

She reached for you

With a desperate ferocity

That I once had for you

I wonder if…

Her “LOVE” for you

Was conditional

On ALL the money

That you sent to her

Or if it was true

That she loved

That middle-aged man

That I once thought

I would grow old with

But now am not so sure

I wonder if…

You should go

To her

With Our Children

Introduce them to their

“NEW” mommy

And see just what she is made of

See if she still dresses

As if on a red carpet

When the only thing admiring

Are teens with worn out

Attitudes

And autism controlling

Every aspect of her life

I wonder if…

She would still greet you

Half-dressed

A woman with no cares

Pleasing you sexually

As you lay back

Watching as she went down on you

Expecting nothing but your

Total devotion to her family

And your money in return

Or would she turn into me

Right before your eyes?

Old and overweight

Using a “STRONG” voice

And having expectations

Of things besides

A big dick

And gifts and your time for everyone

But her

I wonder if…

Your dream of the perfect

Submissive youthful woman

Would suddenly be

Popped like a giant balloon

Air bursting out

images-3

Like flab over her bikini

And if…

She would stay

Calm, peaceful and serene

Peppy and pleasing

On this merry-go-round

That we call our lives

images

 

 

Worse-Case Scenarios

In the past  two-weeks I have learned that our tour guide, my husband, and his sister all betrayed me; some in the most awful of ways. Could there be anything worse? Yes, there could be, as I have been so gently reminded from above.

As I have pondered things these past weeks I have catastrophized, neuroticised, fantasized, and hypothesized. I have cried a fifth of tears  imagesand singlehandedly kept the Kleenex company in business. download

Finally, I could do nothing else but pray. So I did. In between sobs, hiccups, and the sorrowful sniffing of snot back into my sinus cavities; I asked for some help. Now, I am not much of a religious person but I have had my share of miracles when I have asked. This time all it appeared was that I received was a big bunch of nothing.

No, “I’M THINKING ON IT” or “YOU’VE RUN OUT OF MIRACLES FOR THIS LIFE.”  The only thing I obtained was this fleeting phrase:

images-2

“Fuck,” I thought. “Where is the compassion, dude?”

“Come on, I know you’ve got better than that! Heck, you have parted seas and rained hot coals down on the wicked. The least you could do is a repeat performance.”

But IT COULD BE WORSE was all that was sent down from on high to me.

And then it occurred to me those worst-case scenarios might just be what was needed to lead me to find a slight bit of gratitude and happiness in my off-the-rails-life. So I pondered a bit and these came to me:

  1. He could have knocked her up.
  2. He could have knocked her sister up.
  3. She could have lived down the street and I would have to see her smirking face everyday for the rest of my life.
  4. He could have sent her double the amount of money he did. I mean what he sent could have been a four-yeardegree at a prestigious college instead of the equivalent of several semesters worth of education that he sent.
  5. His sister could be my sister.
  6. I could have gone to Singapore only to have walked in on them. Now that would have been awkward.
  7. His sister could have been his lover instead of his ally in deceiving me
  8. I could have sent her Victoria’s Secret which she would have worn for my husband instead of the money I sent to her and her family.
  9. She could have splashed the internet full of naked pictures of her and my husband together in Singapore instead of them just making out at the butterfly farm.
  10. I could have picked up some disease from my cheating husband.
  11. My husband could have become a polygamist.
  12. He could have fucked our tour guide in Chile and that would have been bad because his name was Hector.

 

There. Indeed, it could have been worse. Way worse.

So for now, I am counting my blessings as I head into the third week of The Day My Life Went Straight To Hell a/k/a No More Tour Guides For Me.

 

One Man’s Obsessions Are Another Man’s Quirks

For the past six months Andre has decided that he will only wear the color blue in a particular hue. Heaven forbid, the shade may not be a Navy blue, dark blue-gray or even Robin’s egg blue. No, Andre’s blue has to be bright, brilliant, and leap tall buildings in a single bound. So today while I was waiting to pay for Andre’s all things blue, the clerk chuckled: “You’ve certainly got a lot of blue there!”

“It’s for my son,” I said with a sigh. “I wish I could get him into something else.”

“Is blue the only color that your son will wear?” asked a 50-ish man dressed from head to toe in black waiting for the clerk to locate something for him.

images-2

“Well blue is his favorite and, yes, it is the only color he will wear. Why do you ask?”

“Sounds to me as if he has OCD,” said the man with a gentle smile.

“Do you know someone with OCD?” I inquire.

“I have it,” the man in black says with a grin. “If you notice I am dressed in all black from my head to my toes. Once in a while I will throw in some gray but for the most part black is what you would see me in every day of my life. In fact, people keep trying to get me to wear color ALL THE TIME.  Friends and relatives keep giving me shirts that are bright red or green but in all honesty they go to the nearest thrift store without ever being worn.”

“Why is that? Why does color bother you so?”

“It isn’t the color per se, it is that I know that in order to keep my anxiety down, black is what I need to wear. If I wore blue I would obsess that I was wearing blue all day long. I might feel itchy because I was so uncomfortable. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on much of anything except the fact that I was wearing a blue shirt. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I think I am beginning to.”

“Think about it this way. Let’s pretend that you see a gorgeous pair of shoes that you have always wanted. An outrageously expensive pair of Jimmy Choo’s. The only catch is that in order to have them you have to wear those Jimmy Choo’s 8 hours a day… and they are two sizes too small. How would that work for you? Sure for the first five minutes you might be happy with them but as your toes began to rub together and cramp pretty soon you wouldn’t be thinking about how glamorous the shoes were instead you would begin to spend your time obsessing about how much your feet hurt. The next morning the thought of putting on those shoes would probably be almost unbearable and the closer the time came to put them on the more your anxiety would rise just thinking about having to put them on. So the question is, why would you start your day full of anxiety when there is no need to do so? Instead, you just go find a pair of comfortable shoes and suddenly both your physical and emotional selves are soothed. That is how it works for me. It is silly for me to try to wear something that is going to totally mess up my day and make it impossible to get anything done due to my obsessing about it.  Who cares if I wear black everyday and why should it matter to anyone else if I do so anyway?”

“Thank you,” I tell him. “You have given me some valuable insight into my son and what you have said makes total sense. You have scratched out another line on THE LIST OF THINGS I HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT IN LIFE and for that I will always be grateful.”

At that moment the clerk called the man over. He had been on the phone searching for a particular pair of black shoes for the man and had found them.

“How many pairs do you want?”

“Five”

As I turned and walked away it was then that I noticed…the man wore black sandals out of which popped his painted black toe nails.

“Why black,” I wondered. “Why not brown, or yellow or green? And as I walked back to the car I began obsessing about…why, blue not black or, why, yellow and not green? And that’s when it hit me….none of it mattered…. and neither did Andre’s blue shirts. All that mattered was the I continue to try to seek and relate to Andre in ways that acknowledged the uniqueness of who he is and that I continue to honor those things that made him feel comfortable in his own skin. For in the end the why’s really just don’t matter.

Last night I walked into Andre’s room and headed to his closet.

“What are you doing mom?”

“I getting rid all of your shirts that are not blue. No sense in filling you closet with them is there? We both know you won’t wear them anyway, right?”

“Yep”

“Okay, well if you ever decide you want to wear another color let me know, okay?”

“Sure mom. And thanks for doing this. I feel like you really heard me and even better you showed me that you did. Who cares if I don’t wear red, yellow or green. Who cares?”

Indeed.

 

 

Deepest Darkest Secrets

images

We all have them. We guard them, we make light of them, analyze them and minimize them. They are our deepest darkest secrets.

I’ve always been pretty much of an open book. A what you see is what you get kind of girl. No pretenses. No airs. I often spoke without thinking in the name of being honest and open.  Unfortunately, it took me a while to learn that everyone didn’t have to know my business and that being honest doesn’t matter to those who do not know you intimately.

images-1

When I met B, within three dates I told him my deepest darkest secret. In looking back I am not sure if it was because I felt I had to be “honest” in all aspects of my life or if I felt he was safe enough to share the burden, maybe even lighten the load. Whatever the reason, I never heard about it again until this weekend when he told me he felt that he needed to discuss it with our new therapist.

My first thought was anger….how dare he!!!!

My second thought was that he was trying to obtain some sort of psychological advantage with the therapist.

My third thought was that maybe, just maybe, he had to work this out for himself. That my deepest secret had effected him too. Exposed rawness in places that a boy off the farm was unfamiliar with and he hadn’t known how to deal with it 30 years ago and was angry at himself now because he had not handled it in a way that was helpful to him.

Secrets are a funny thing. They eat at you. They can paralyze you.  Or they can be used to motivate and do good in this world. But whenever you have one; you become vulnerable if you let it be known.  You give someone power over you and I can honestly say I always felt save with B knowing it. Until now.

But the fact is also that I no longer care. My secret is no longer relevant to me or this life I lead. I have overcome it and so much more. I have used it to do good things and I gave up its power over me so long ago. So if B has to discuss it, discuss it I will. For I am no longer that young girl without a voice and I can roar now if I have to.

 

 

 

The Call

images-7

About six weeks ago I received “THE CALL.” It was a call that immediately increased my distrust of B and our life together. It was a call that put some ice into my marriage.  It was a call that increased my anxiety and set me down a path of self-doubt. It is a call that I was still ruminating about all these weeks later but have recently decided to drop, like a stone in water, and I don’t let those ripples effect me as much these days.

THE CALL came from my ex-brother-in-law who was divorced from B’s sister (M) twenty years ago. M is who my husband shares all his confidences/doubts about our marriage with. She has been divorced three times and in multiple relationships all of which she has left while in an affair. Yes, that is who B is turning to for advice. This man and M share a child and the last time I talked with him was one his daughter showed up on our doorstep higher than a kite on meth. So needless to say, I was quite surprised to hear from him.

Now to tell you the truth I am not sure if he had been drinking but I suspect he had been. That is his MO but on this particular night I couldn’t say. He called to tell me that he heard that B and I were breaking up and that we shouldn’t do it. That we had something special. That we needed to stay together for our children and ourselves. That we should not give up.

Of course my first thought was is this something he just learned and I am unaware of or is this from sometime back, say, January when B came home form China and said he wanted to separate? Just another confusing thing for me to try to figure out and digest. Another thing which makes me unsure of this relationship. Another thing that made me feel distrustful and angry.

My second thought was why is his sister, whom I don’t talk to since I saved her daughter from her meth addition, going around blabbing our business?

A few days later after discussing this with B, was, have you talked to your sister about keeping our business confidential? He said NO.

Now six weeks later I find out from M’s daughter that she had been asked to come out here  had I decided to leave B back in February when I hired a lawyer.

On the one hand I think well that’s B for you. Planning ahead, Getting his ducks in a row. On the other hand I just keep feeling like little bombs keep blowing up around me:

  1. B coming home in January stating he wanted to separate.
  2. The whole hiding his phone from me incident
  3. The phone call from the ex BIL
  4. And ….

And so I went back to feeling vulnerable, confused and angry. But happily I will say this…I am not longer anxiety ridden. I have finally made it to an attitude of WHATEVER HAPPENS HAPPENS and with it a calming sense of peace prevails, that, while occasionally punctuated by his crap, remains something that I hold on to and fills my soul with sanity.

It is a good place to be and I am thankful for all the hard work I have done to get me to this place after the past two years. It hasn’t been easy but I know that whatever happens I am strong, determined, confident and I can handle whatever is thrown at me. And that, my friends, a pretty great place to be!

 

 

 

Cheater…Cheater…P**** Eater

Cheating-copie

Recently a blogger I follow asked if publishing a blog about the state of his marriage without his wife knowing was cheating. I replied:

I think that it is perfectly okay to do something for ourselves and if blogging makes you feel better and you enjoy it, then by all means do it. That said, you probably are cheating on your wife IF you are investing more energy on your blog then in fixing your relationship. Or IF you are developing secret “relationships” that might interfere with getting closer to your wife because you are expending a sort of intimate energy on an “on-line” person. If however, you feel you are learning better ways of relating to your wife and family by the comments you are receiving then more power to you. We all have ways of gaining knowledge and if this improves your outlook, happiness, etc. then you are only improving what you will take home to your honey.

And I stand by my response because it doesn’t involve sexual acts or emotional intimacy with another person besides his wife. But what about cheating on a broader level? At what point is the line crossed between “behaving badly” and cheating?

An old boyfriend of mine used to say, “Getting head isn’t cheating” and that is precisely why he became an OLD boyfriend of mine.

But if getting head isn’t cheating, what is?

Well, in my book, sexual cheating occurs not because of any specific sexual act but when a partner keeps secrets of a sexual nature from their partner. Viewing porn, having a fling, having an “intense” emotional relationship, or visiting a strip bar is fine and dandy as long as your partner knows about it and has no problem with that particular behavior or set of behaviors. This means both partners must act with integrity and make their significant others feelings their number one priority. There can be no lying, no keeping secrets from one another and no saying “yes” when what you really want to do is say no. This is because the only true path to genuine intimacy in a relationship is when total transparency and honesty prevails. For it isn’t the sex act itself that causes a marriage to implode, rather it is the secrets and lies that betray relational trust that is what eventually kills the bond between the cheater and his/her mate.

So “cheat” away…but only if you tell your spouse first and they agree to the fling. Otherwise, get a divorce and then go live out your wildest fantasies where the only thing that can be hurt is your wallet and your own pride.