I spent the evening in the garage with my husband. He asked me to join him, and initially I said no. But, after about a half an hour I headed down to join him after he received a phone call that I had to take to him anyway. I have a chair there that I can sit in while I watch him work. Sometimes I bring my Kindle and read, chatting every once in a while, and sometimes we just spend the time talking. And, every once in a while he needs that extra set of hands. Tonight, I just talked to him, after he finished his call. I have been experiencing anxiety lately. At first I didn’t know this, but after googling some odd symptoms it immediately came up as anxiety. Okay, makes sense, I suppose. I guess I have been anxious about some things, but none of those things have anything to do with him per se. It’s mostly to do with me. But, I really can’t explain what I’m talking about. And, even if I could explain it, I doubt anyone would understand it, because I don’t think I understand what I feel.
I think that is the source of my stress. My inability to even explain myself. What does this have to do with an affair? Honestly, I can’t answer that. I don’t know even if it does have anything to do with the affair. But, I suppose that it probably does. It seems everything that ever happens has to do with the affair, even though I know that is not the truth. But, yet, I find myself struggling with feelings that I can’t even explain. Heck, I can’t even find the correct words to explain what I feel. The only reason this page isn’t blank is because writing something, anything, makes it seem like I’m dealing with whatever it is. Even though I’m not really “dealing” with my own feelings at all. I guess I choose to embrace them sometimes to alleviate the need to explain them away or to, you know, actually deal with them.
That leads to the issue of I don’t know how to deal with me. Sometimes I want to be alone in my thoughts and not share them anywhere, not even here, and not with him. But, he’s my go-to person. Only I am not there yet. I have no go-to person. And, I have been pretty lazy about dealing with how I feel about so many different things, affair included. I thought that writing in this blog was me dealing with me. But, I was only using this blog as an excuse to not deal with me. I haven’t dealt with me at all. I have dealt with him and I have dealt with us, but I have not dealt with me.
I think I have gotten lost somewhere in the shuffle of him, us, and the family. And I keep searching for me in familiar, yet odd places, because I have no idea where I am at the moment.