My husband took me away this weekend. And this has me suspicious that he is also picking up pieces on his own path. At one point he and the OW had taken a day together and went to a resort type place about an hour away. My husband took me here on Sunday. We had discussed months and months ago that he had been there with her. We had sort of discussed going there, but tabled it. We weren’t ready. But, we found ourselves there. Neither of us mentioned the fact that he had been there with her. In a store, he was asking about where to have dinner and he said “we have never been here before”. His own struggle I guess. I wonder if tackling these things are as hard for him as they are me. I didn’t ask. Not yet. My husband likes to deal with his path on his own first and talk to me about it later. It took a long time to allow him to do that. But, I realized that I operate the same way. Self first, then us.
In all of the irony between the OW and me is that we practically share a birthday. (I swear if I didn’t know this was real I would not believe it). So, anyway, my birthday was a few days ago. Hers is today. I used to wonder if he thought about her on her birthday. But, honestly, two days apart, I think about her on her birthday…..of course he does too. We don’t discuss that. The very first year after everything happened I did ask him. His answer was “why would I?”. Of course back then honesty was not necessarily going on between us. Very little was going on between us. When I think about the growth we have experienced in the past few years, I am always taken aback. Where we were and where we are is worlds apart. Yet, Bobbie and I have birthdays days apart. We always will. I imagine she feels the same way. I can’t forget it, so I may as well embrace it…I hope she has a great birthday. I mean that.
I have been tackling at a slower pace lately the pieces that I need to address. Admittedly some of these pieces are so weathered that I don’t even recognize them as being part of me. I hold them up and I stare at them, these unrecognizable objects that are part me. I’m determined to hold these pieces and not put them down until I figure out what to do with them. I find some of them have sharp edges. Bleeding all over again when I cut myself seems like the opposite of healing sometimes, but I know this time I’m cleaning out the wound. I won’t be putting a temporary bandaid on anything.
I haven’t cried in a long time in an open way. I have cried inside many times. Sometimes I will be right next to him and the bleeding starts. Inside I’m coping with an entire meltdown that he doesn’t know about. I wonder if he goes through the same things. I wonder how many times we are side-by-side dealing with our own private pain inside. Probably too many times is the correct answer.
As I conquer each piece I am becoming aware of the final pieces left awaiting me. Maybe it’s why I am working so slowly. I still don’t know what to do about the pieces with her in them. And, honestly, there’s still a few pieces containing him left that I feel stressed about finalizing. But, mostly I stress about what to do about her. I no longer consider putting her in a box on a shelf a viable solution. It’s certainly the most tempting though.
I can see so clearly exactly where I want to be, but it’s so vague how I will ever get there. I have thought a million times that I just want to get lost, forget all of this, forget her, move on with my life. I have daily moments where I want to throw all of these broken pieces back out onto the path and stomp on them some more. I am stuck somewhere between wanting to live my life and wanting to run from it.
I have to keep moving forward though. I’m almost there.
Maybe I don’t want to get lost as much as I want to get found.