Sitting here, for the third time in my life - well not third actually, as it has happened many times with each man, but for the third relationship in my life... fourth if you count a man who was my best friend too, that I loved, and lied about who he married even... feeling the pain of lies.
Why do men lie...
My husband of almost five years, who had an email account when we were married, was writing an ex love, and most likely other women,well into our relationship. I discovered by complete accident, and after much anger and 'ownership' of this account, he agreed to let it go, as well as the woman(en) he was writing...
Five years later... same scenario... discovered by accident as we were again making vacation plans... a confirmation on the phone to this address he swore was no more.
When I asked him to open it so we could deal with what we needed to deal with, meaning the truth... he refused.
I know that I don't need to see the account, nor any emails in it.
I know that just the fact that he lied, and that he will not open it in front of me, without a doubt proves he is being dishonest...
But still, I feel the need to know what I am dealing with, and am having a hard time making a decision to leave without that 'truth'...
But...Will I be able to trust him again...
No.
Is that enough reason to leave...
Yes.
So as I sit here alone, with so many thoughts consuming my mind and heart, scenarios galore breaking my life, in terms of marriage once again... love once again... I just feel nothing but heartbreak... nothing but heartbreak...
I can't even write anymore. So discouraged about everything, I can't even write my heart here.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Monday
After searching for documents today that would reveal my ancestry, tucked away carefully in my latest secret spot - I come up empty. I was entrusted with these papers and I am clueless to where they are. Spent my entire evening digging, searching... only to find envelopes entitled 'birth certificates' also empty, as well as empty plastic sleeves for shot records for my children now grown. I am so incredibly organized at work... always my strongest 'rating' in any job review, ever...but surprisingly, somehow...my organizational skills have gone amiss at home. I need these papers. Found out that my great, great grandmother's name was Annie Hall - so ironic that my favorite film from Woody was that, and it thrilled me to no end to discover that great name an actual relative. So my dad calls me this weekend to verify a date of birth for a great great grandfather, based on those papers he sent me, and I can't find them. Anywhere...
I think I need a new 'safe place' that is one single simple place. These brilliant ideas of mine to hide these treasures safely away is just not working. Leaving me frustrated, amazed, and in a way smiling at my total incompetence with anything entrusted to me... at home. Perhaps it is a part of this whole 'being lost' thing I am going through. Maybe when I get closer to finding me, I will find that birth certificate of mine, and those papers naming those that ultimately brought me here, and more...
Two things I did find...
One, the death certificate for my ex husband of over 20 years - the father of my children.. the death certificate that named so many toxic causes of his demise that I had to resort to dictionary.com to find out what these drugs inside him actually were... and it broke my heart to know that this family I made with him, is never more. Ever, ever, again. I truly think one has to experience the loss of a co-parent to understand the flood of emotions that surface each and every time those words of ' no 'do overs' come to mind... family, in terms of how it was made, is gone. Never to be retrieved, even in a distant holiday or wedding - gone. Does this affect me more than my children I wonder? They seem to be moving on in ways, but I still worry so very much about the 'Father of the Bride Wedding Dance' and the 'Walk down the Isle' that will never be experienced by the daughter he made, and left to only me. And his son, my son... who seems so lost too, and held captive in ways that make me wonder if he will be stuck in this 'never shown what to do or be as a man' phase forever...
Two... also found my marriage certificate for my 'new' husband of what will be five years in September of this year. This anniversary that neither of us have remembered even once, in the four previous years we've been married. Is it because we are seconds, and things like that are just not as sentimental, or is it because we got married too soon, on the wrong day - the 2nd, when both of us were born on the 8th of a month and should have stuck with that 8 to always know - or that we are in a, for lack of a better word, a rut... him low on hormones that make him not want to be held and loved, and me raging in hormones that make me only want to be held and loved... Regardless, we never remember, and I have decided tonight we'll just change the date to the 8th, so we do... as for the hormones. We need to meet in the middle with effort and love, or this journal will turn on me...and begin to sound like a marriage more empty than full, and I am just not willing to go there again. Just not willing. I love him and we just need to figure this thing out. Too late for 'do-overs' here too..
Well, it is late, and I am sounding a lot more blue than I really am. I am happy, just stressed at work, with huge changes coming - so many people leaving and me, soon to be alone in 3-person department servicing so many, doing the work of, well... 3. But I love my job and will stick this out. I can do this... After all... I am so very organized... so incredibly organized...at work.
Well there you go... A Seinfeld full circle. Time to close with that one...
I think I need a new 'safe place' that is one single simple place. These brilliant ideas of mine to hide these treasures safely away is just not working. Leaving me frustrated, amazed, and in a way smiling at my total incompetence with anything entrusted to me... at home. Perhaps it is a part of this whole 'being lost' thing I am going through. Maybe when I get closer to finding me, I will find that birth certificate of mine, and those papers naming those that ultimately brought me here, and more...
Two things I did find...
One, the death certificate for my ex husband of over 20 years - the father of my children.. the death certificate that named so many toxic causes of his demise that I had to resort to dictionary.com to find out what these drugs inside him actually were... and it broke my heart to know that this family I made with him, is never more. Ever, ever, again. I truly think one has to experience the loss of a co-parent to understand the flood of emotions that surface each and every time those words of ' no 'do overs' come to mind... family, in terms of how it was made, is gone. Never to be retrieved, even in a distant holiday or wedding - gone. Does this affect me more than my children I wonder? They seem to be moving on in ways, but I still worry so very much about the 'Father of the Bride Wedding Dance' and the 'Walk down the Isle' that will never be experienced by the daughter he made, and left to only me. And his son, my son... who seems so lost too, and held captive in ways that make me wonder if he will be stuck in this 'never shown what to do or be as a man' phase forever...
Two... also found my marriage certificate for my 'new' husband of what will be five years in September of this year. This anniversary that neither of us have remembered even once, in the four previous years we've been married. Is it because we are seconds, and things like that are just not as sentimental, or is it because we got married too soon, on the wrong day - the 2nd, when both of us were born on the 8th of a month and should have stuck with that 8 to always know - or that we are in a, for lack of a better word, a rut... him low on hormones that make him not want to be held and loved, and me raging in hormones that make me only want to be held and loved... Regardless, we never remember, and I have decided tonight we'll just change the date to the 8th, so we do... as for the hormones. We need to meet in the middle with effort and love, or this journal will turn on me...and begin to sound like a marriage more empty than full, and I am just not willing to go there again. Just not willing. I love him and we just need to figure this thing out. Too late for 'do-overs' here too..
Well, it is late, and I am sounding a lot more blue than I really am. I am happy, just stressed at work, with huge changes coming - so many people leaving and me, soon to be alone in 3-person department servicing so many, doing the work of, well... 3. But I love my job and will stick this out. I can do this... After all... I am so very organized... so incredibly organized...at work.
Well there you go... A Seinfeld full circle. Time to close with that one...
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Lost in the Forest - Begin the Path Home
Saturday afternoon - blessed to be living in some place other than the desert today- although I miss the smell of the creosote after a rain like nothing else. But Summer is here and I am thankful to be higher in the hills, where walks can be taken, friends can gather outdoors for beer and dogs, and simple things like mail gotten, are a joy, without that sun-beating heat I left behind in Tucson.
Starting a blog is so hard. Like a blank canvas, it sits bright, staring back at me for words of wonder, not tales of an ordinary day. But this can't be a job for me, and I must be able to write about ordinary things like a Saturday afternoon...an ordinary Saturday afternoon, without judgment or thoughts of 'not enough'... I have a friend who is an artist. She always starts on a black canvas - black, never white - says that way she has begun as soon as brushes are gathered - painter's block broken in a way I need this writer's block to set me free now.
Been too long, far too long since I wrote anything of any meaning, anything of me. I am hoping it is like the wind through the trees - that words will meander from me, to this place, without much contemplation, or self awareness.
So that is the beginning... as we leave to go visit friends, I managed five minutes for me.
Just five minutes... at least five minutes...
Starting a blog is so hard. Like a blank canvas, it sits bright, staring back at me for words of wonder, not tales of an ordinary day. But this can't be a job for me, and I must be able to write about ordinary things like a Saturday afternoon...an ordinary Saturday afternoon, without judgment or thoughts of 'not enough'... I have a friend who is an artist. She always starts on a black canvas - black, never white - says that way she has begun as soon as brushes are gathered - painter's block broken in a way I need this writer's block to set me free now.
Been too long, far too long since I wrote anything of any meaning, anything of me. I am hoping it is like the wind through the trees - that words will meander from me, to this place, without much contemplation, or self awareness.
So that is the beginning... as we leave to go visit friends, I managed five minutes for me.
Just five minutes... at least five minutes...
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