She

She felt like a fool.  Her predetermination had not caused the effect she desired.  She watched the twinkle of the candle light through the holes of thread in her shower curtain.  The warm water was calming, but the disappointment clung to her like the mist that surrounded her. 

She had gone out of her way to buy the same shampoo that she had used in high school, remembering the sweet floral smell; she once believed to be seducing.  However, twelve years later, it only smelled cheap. She bought it, wanting the scent to take her back to her past when during the intimate time she showered she would day dream and hope to find love; to be loved.  Many a day her “quick” shower would turn into a magical daydream of chivalrous men wooing her, promising her eternal love and marital bliss; these dreams ended only when she was shocked to reality as the hot water ran cold from depletion.  After being married, she wasn’t hoping for such unrealistic fantasies; she was just hoping for a day dream where someone would finally love her the way she loved.

She was lonely, very lonely and ironically enough the two beautiful children she had, who climbed on her all day, only seemed to magnify the extreme void she felt in the evenings when she was finally alone with herself.  As she stood under the cascading water, closing her eyes to the flickering of the shadows she tried to slow her mind.  It was not fantastical pool boys or experimental youth that she thought about.  Instead, her mind kept coming back to the husband with whom she was separated.  Try as she might, it was still him who occupied her thoughts and heart despite the pain he has caused her.  Even though it had gotten to the point where she desired to send a hand to slap his face and although she screamed the hate she felt towards him, he still managed to remain entangled in her very being, and again she felt like a fool.  He had no remorse for all the pain he had caused her and even when she had given him chance after chance, he choose not to change the hurt he caused, which resulted in their inevitable separation.  So why, why was it she could not move on?  Why did every day have to hurt just as much as the day before?

Slowly she turned off the water and grabbed the soft baby yellow towel that wrapped around her wet nakedness.  Despite the failed desire of the shower, she was at least clean and anymore that in and of itself was something to be grateful for now that her role as mother expanded into other realms as she did her best to make up for the slack her husband caused. 

She pondered her predicament further as she turned on the lights and blew out the candles to dress in one of his old shirts that had become pajamas for her long ago.  Maybe she couldn’t let him go because despite what she told herself and others, she still believed with therapy he could become the person he once was: the man she had been proud to call her husband.  Yet, there was no desire or evidence of change, so why did she still hope for the proverbial “what if?” 

She watched her plump reflection in the mirror as she brushed the tangles out of her wet, shoulder-length hair.  As she watched herself she tried as always to quiet the negative thoughts that taunted her about her looks and failures, as if she had somehow pushed him away with all her horrendousness.

She took a deep breath, clearing her mind of such cancerous thoughts.  At least she can mark off this day as done.  One more day she survived.

every day

I know it has been a little while since I posted.  This whole getting on my feet thing is hard and a bigger daily fight that I had anticipated.  Since we have been here with my parents, Josh has put forth more effort than he has in the last two years combined. He has been attentive, calm, and the father to my kids that I have always wanted.  So it is hard to keep moving forward when I feel I am losing something in doing so.  However, the facts are still the same.  There is still smoking, drinking, porn and to be honest who knows what else.  There has still been no effort in getting a new therapist and when it comes down to it, despite the more enjoyable Josh to be around, everything is still the same.   I am trying to find my way in encouraging the positive I see from him, without confusing myself and my emotions with the care I obviously still have for him.  I do not doubt my decision to leave him, it is just a decision I have to make every day, over and over again.

Hardware

The last couple of days I have been struggling a lot with my decision to divorce Josh.  I feel that this is mostly due to the fact that now that I have had a little bit of rest and reprieve, I have strength left to fight, but that doesn’t necessarily mean this is something I should fight for as very little has changed.  It just hurts so much and is so hard to separate yourself from someone you still love very much, despite all the hurt they have caused. 

Nine years ago I had severe back surgery where four pounds of hardware were placed inside and alongside my spine to help support it, so that I could live life to the fullest, by the offered stability and motion it offered me while my body healed over time.  Now, nine years later, I still have all of that hardware although it has already done its function.  Technically it is no longer needed, but it will not be removed as the recovery from such an extraction is a long, hard process that would require recovery and physical therapy all over again.  Josh is the hardware.  For so long I relied on him to keep me up in life.  He supported me through collage and in my goals, but as I grew and progressed the needs he met, no longer applied.  Please don’t get me wrong, I am not trying to say Josh is dead weight and offers me nothing, but at this point he has decided that his job with me is done and there is an extraction in process.  It hurts so deeply and I fear the recovery.  How am I supposed to live without something that for so long seemed to be such a part of me?

I continue to pray and search for strength and guidance as to which way the Lord wants me to go, but sometimes I doubt my thoughts and fear I am making a mistake I cannot fix.  Why can’t this answer be easy?  Why can’t I hate him and move on, or why can’t I feel hope that somehow it will all turn around?  So I pray and read the scriptures and pray some more that my mind and heart will be softened to the prompting of the spirit and that I may feel peace in the answers and thoughts that come to my mind.

Life in a Box

Since I have been home, my parents have been very attentive and have expressed on several occasions that I have a right to let go and finally focus on me.  This is a hard concept for me, especially being a mom to two little ones.  Of course my parents aren’t implying I neglect my mother responsibilities, but they feel I am holding onto a lot of stress and emotions I do not need to be carrying around.  I am not saying I do not disagree, but I am having a hard time finding a way to put down all these stored up troubles, emotions, memories and disappointments.  Every day I way up pleading with and thanking the Lord.  I read my scriptures, I even read a conference talk a day, but still I have not found a release.  I have begun unpacking boxes and since I have two little children, I was not able to supervise the packers as closely as I wish I could have.  This means that more times than not, my husband’s items were packed along side of mine.  There is no harm in this, but it was a very interesting visual representation of my mind and body.  Here there is this heavy cluttered box and I now am tasked to go through piece by piece in order to find a home for each article.  There are things I have forgotten about and things I cherish greatly and every once in a while there is an item that belongs to Josh.  So I clean sort and store until finally I have emptied the box.  Why then is it not the same for my mind?  Shouldn’t I take the time to reflect once again on who I am, what my goals are so that I can clean and sort these emotions that are meant to fuel and refine me.  Then every so often when I come across a burden I took up upon myself when I was trying to help my husband, I can say wait; this is not mine, and move it out of my box (head).  As we all know, unpacking takes a while and I already know I will need help, but I have my task and it is time to get to work.

No More Words

It has been a rough night.  Over an hour to get the screaming infant comfortable enough to finally drift into her peaceful slumber and the same amount of time spent on the toddler whose entire world had changed.  With no schedule and no furniture of our own, his nighttime routine was more or less a screaming marathon as he tries to cope with the newness.  Sadly, knowing all of this did not make it any easier as I try and comfort both my babies as best I can.  Then again, how can I comfort my babies when I feel just as jostled as they do?  How can I comfort them when I stand in need of comfort myself?  Yet, I do what I can until finally they sleep, although restlessly.  My daughters snores in  her crib and on the other end of the hall lies my son who insisted on sleeping next to mom, so after many compromises he slumbers on his mattress right up next to my bed.  Unable to risk waking either of the grumpy monsters and worn to the bone myself I collapse in the hallway, in-between both rooms and sit.  The dark silence comforts me.  Trying to be as unaware of his presence as I can I try and ignore the fact that he sits down next to me.  I allow my thoughts to wonder, but they keep getting pulled back to his presence.  I wait for him to say something, but there are no words.  I am tired.  Tired of trying to understand.  Tired of trying to initiate.  Tired of the same old words.  So we sit, there in the dark hallway together.  I don’t know why he chooses to sit here with me, but I sit anyway and let go as much as I can of all the burdens that sink me throughout the day.  I wonder what he thinks about, but I don’t ask.  There is no point.  Eventually life no longer suspends itself and the aching pain in my back grieves me as does the parched throat and a to-do list a mile long.  We stand as if on cue and go our separate ways.

When I crossed into the boundaries of Colorado

When I crossed into the boundaries of Colorado, I was elated and excited to be returning to familiar ground, even though it was still a two hour drive until I was “home.”  I kept looking off into the distance waiting to see the mountain range that gave me so much comfort.  Then all of the sudden as I came up over a hill, there it was in its entire blue and white glistening splendor.  Relief and excitement coursed through my veins and then in a split second I was wrapped in peace.  The thought came to mind that this was the right decision.  This was home.  This was for me.  I wish there were words to describe the comfort that calmed my frazzled stressed heart and spoke peace and calm to my very being. 

I wish I still had that peace and excitement because the truth of it is this: I am scared to death.  I know for a fact my road is not an easy one and although I know it is the right path, that does not make it an easy path and I doubt my strength and insight.  I know all will be well through the Lord, but I do not look forward to the struggle. 

My parents have been nothing but supportive and loving and I thank God for eternal families and this blessed unit to be my shelter in this world.  I wish to be this same thing for my kids and doubt my ability now that my family unit is different as I am officially on my own and separated from my husband.  I am setting up a room for my kids and a room for me, and it is weird and to be honest, slightly uncomfortable having a space meant only for me.  I have been a part of my marriage for so long that it will be difficult learning who I am again as I no longer worry for, support, or strive to understand a spouse.  I have many fears, but also have the best support system I could possibly have, so despite my trials, I am deeply blessed.  I know you are all probably getting sick and tired of hearing about my divorce and the hurricane my life has become, but bear with me as I seek to find a voice to set me free from the emotions that flood me.

The Slap

Lately, all I can imagine is my hand slapping his face and I imagine it in vivid detail.  It plays like a scene in a movie, when the slow motion captures the hand thrusting the face to the side with force. I imagine the force and feel of the swing of my arm as it cuts through the air to connect with his skin.  I imagine the sting that would tingle through my fingers and palm, lighting it on fire with the contact.  I can hear the loud clap the skin on skin would thunder.  I see the rosy pink handprint outlined on his face and even in my imagination I can feel the corner of my mouth, lifting in a smile.  This all sounds terribly awful and violent, doesn’t it?  Then again, this is the man that used to touch and cherish me.  His kisses would burn through me and flame passion I had never known.  He taught me how to feel and I felt like I had never really smiled in life until I met him and now all of that is over.  I will never lie with him again.  Never kiss him again, and after the conversation we had tonight, I likely will never be held or hugged much by him either.  This man I committed my entire person to, is essentially leaving my life and I am somehow supposed to process this and move on.  How can I do that when my being, despite all the agony and hurt desires to be near him and to feel the caresses I know his hands hold.  Caresses I know I will never have because he doesn’t want to give them to me.  Fantasies about intimacy are now too farfetched, so instead I fantasize my skin meeting his, the only way that seems acceptable: the slap.

A psalm of my own

Let my heart be softened that I do not seek revenge or place vengeance on him that has hurt me.

Stay with me, my Lord, that I may be soft and humble, willing to hear and answer thy call.

Give me strength and lift me up beyond my trials that I may serve thee through my service to others.

Stay with me and my lonely heart that I may feel thy love.

A servant to you I wish to be; peace I seek.

Give me patience and love that I might know how to do the same for those around me.

Today, I Hate You

Today.  Today, I hate you.  Today the movers have come and they are literally separating our belongings and our lives and you, you don’t even seem to notice, or worse, care.  While I watch as they literally take my life away, I can’t help but blame you; hate you.  This, this is honestly what you want; what you choose?  How dare you?  How dare you make promises to me you suddenly decided you could not keep.  Especially since I have sacrificed myself to try and make all of this work.  How dare you make this move even more difficult for the children by walking away!  Today, I hate you because what I really want is to be held as we discuss dreams and hopes for our move and all the wonderful things to come, but instead, I am micromanaging the children and the movers so that I can at least survive when I wind on up on the doorstep of my parent’s house.  You do all this to me and taunt me, claiming you still love me and it makes me burn and hurt inside because this is not love.  Today I hate you for making me feel of this when all I have ever wanted from you was love and respect and you choose not to give me that even though I gave you all of mine.  Today I guess I finally see you for what you want to be and I hate you for that jaded image.  Today, today I hate you.

Proverbial Flower

Once I was a flower.

A beauty, seeking gaze.

Some stopped to admire,

Others never saw.

 

My thorns’ sharp tooth drew blood.

Protected I remained.

Admired, but

unmolested.

 

A man who admired-

coveting and in love;

aware and careful,

plucked me to have.

 

I glittered and shown always,

knowing he held me close.

In love, I too-

held near my life.

 

His nose brushed my petals,

I tingled with delight.

If this was love,

why had I fought?

 

He took me home with care

and placed me in the sun.

I danced and swayed,

bringing us delight.

 

The water, my life source

slowly faded away.

His life, a current.

Just, not as mine.

 

My petals grew heavy

and drooped with time in pain.

His eyes looked less.

Dancing no more.

 

I missed my life before.

Fading under his sight.

The end draws near,

but still I stand.

 

I sway, despite the pain,

bringing to light what’s lost.

He avoids me.

Yet, I excuse.

 

My petals curl and crust up;

my rubber stem gives way.

He sees my death,

calls it “a pity.”

 

When removed from the vase

he says he wishes I lived.

Yet he does not-

See, he killed me.

 

No longer a flower,

just love grinded to dust.

The End

Every time Josh and I have gotten to the point where divorce was suggested, I always felt like there was still hope left, that there was still something to be tried.  This time however, is different because this time, I feel relief.  All these months I have been waiting and waiting for Josh to make a choice and last night sort of clinched it all together.  He made his choice through the actions he repeatedly takes and it is very clear we are on two separate paths.  He has tried to change, but since his heart is not in it, his actions have fallen short.  Beyond this even, is his admittance that he does not know how to be honest with me.  Although there is love, there is nothing for it to stand on.  I called my dad in tears seeking his guidance on what I should do.  His answer was simple and exactly right: “you know what to do.  You have been doing all that you can.  Only you know what the Lord and you have decided what is best for you and the kids.” And in that instance I knew.  Josh and I talked and talked and both agreed that this wasn’t going to work the way it was.  Josh was unwilling to change and I too was unwilling to sacrifice parts of me that I feel are integral to my very being.  I suggested divorce, and Josh agreed.  Unlike all the other times where I hoped there would be change or that it was not really over left my mind and I felt an overwhelming sense of peace.  I have tried for a year and a half to hold together and mend a relationship that didn’t really exist in the first place.  I hate that divorce is the answer for us, but I know in my heart it is the right answer.  I am still very scared of being a single mom and I feel the need to mourn for all that is lost, but I will move on.  I gave everything I have had into this and I wish the same had been reciprocated, but because of all my effort I at least walk away knowing I tried EVERYTHING.  I truly hope he finds whatever it is he is looking for because obviously me and the kids were not the satisfaction he needed.  I am blessed to have my children and hope to make known to them just what a blessing they are.  I am sad and heavy with my loss, but at the same time I am determined and at peace.