Archive for the ‘Life in general’ Category

I find myself sitting in muted silence.

No white noise, no static, no background music.

For someone who has always found comfort in words, the silence is sometimes deafening.

Have I disappeared from your life?

Most likely so, and I apologize.  I’m still here.  I still observe, listen, read.  But so often, I can’t find the words to join in the conversation.

It’s hard to explain the changes I’ve gone through.  Harder, still, to introduce people to the person I’ve become.  I’m still me, and yet I’m not.

For the most part, I’m somebody better than I was.

There’s this fluff that we carry around with us, over the top of who we are at our very core.  It shields us and gives us a buffer between our most bare, essential selves and the world around us.

I feel like I’ve lost mine.  Or, to be more precise, I’ve torn it off and set it ablaze.

I had a life that I loved, and it turned out that nothing about it was what I thought it was.  My carefully made plans, my hopes and dreams, all had to be released like balloons floating off into the distance.

It’s amazing to discover the person I’ve become, and to create a new life with new dreams, but I feel vulnerable.

I’m starting over as my truest, most authentic self.

And I have nothing to hide behind.

In five weeks, I’ll celebrate the passing of another year.

I’ll be thirty-four. 

This year, my birthday is also an anniversary of sorts, and it has me struggling.

In five weeks, Jeremy will be able to say he has been clean for a full year. 

In five weeks, it will have been a year since we separated.

A year. 

And I’m not over it, yet.  I’m nowhere near over it, and some naive part of me  thought that I would be. 

Nearly a year later, I’m only just starting to come to terms with everything that happened. 

Leading up to this point, my focus has been on trying to survive and rebuild and adjust.  I’ve been so intent on moving forward that I haven’t  allowed myself to look back.

People ask me all the time how I am, and I tell them, truthfully, that I am well.  I’m happy and I’m at peace.  I no longer live in fear and I have so much hope for the future. 

I feel strong and confident and alive.  I am more myself now than I have ever been in my life.

But I struggle, too.  Life is good in so many ways, but it is also hard.

I’m happy.  And I’m sad. 

On my birthday, I’ll celebrate.  And grieve. 

The passing of a year.

I’m happy.

Happier, actually, than I’ve been in a really long time.

There isn’t any one particular thing making me feel this way… I just do.  I’m at peace.  Life is busy and there are days when I’m on the go for 15 hours, straight, but there is a smile on my face and a lightness in my step from start to finish.

It’s an incredible feeling, especially when I think about what things were like only six short months ago.  It’s amazing how much my life has changed, and how much better I feel.

I know I’ve been neglecting this space and I apologize.  I fully intend to document Blythe’s story, but for the time being, I’m enjoying living this unexpectedly happy, peaceful life.

Alison and Blythe are continuing to thrive, and they’re developing an incredible bond with their dad.  He has come so far, and I’m proud of him for dedicating his time and effort to being the father our girls deserve. 

I know that his poor choices are responsible for so much of the hurt we’ve experienced, but I also know that the good choices he’s making now are a huge factor in our ability to live in peace.

Life is good.  I’ve been saying that for years, trying to convince myself that it’s true.

I’m so happy to finally believe.

Here it is, a whole new year. 

Time is marching on and life is moving forward at warp speed…

Last week, I began the training required to become a Clinical Research Coordinator (CRC).  It will take me awhile to learn the ropes and familiarize myself with FDA requirements and coding systems (not to mention pass the required exams), but I’m already incredibly excited. 

My long-term goal is to work on pediatric food allergy studies, but in the meantime I’ll be able to work in a lab right here in my little bitty town, which is amazing in and of itself.

Tomorrow, I start a new job at the gym where I’ve been a member for nearly a decade.  I’ll be working three evenings a week, and during that time my girls will have dinner, do homework, take baths, go to bed… and be completely taken care of, by someone other than me. 

I’m trying not to lose my shit, just thinking about it.  They’ll be fine.  Right??  Just nod and say, “Yes, Dre, they’ll be fine”.  Oh, good, thanks!

And because that is clearly not enough anxiety-inducing upheaval, the girls and I will be moving at the end of the month.

I’m very sad about leaving our home, but we’re not saying good-bye to it forever.  I just can’t keep up with everything by myself, and since I’m taking a step back from the businesses Jeremy and I run out of the house, it makes a lot more sense for him to live here, instead.  

I’m a little nervous.  More than a little, if I’m being completely honest.  As much as I’m overwhelmed by all of the responsibilities that go along with living and working here, it’s familiar.  I know what I’m doing, I’m comfortable, I’ve got a routine, and everything has its place, even if I’m overly stressed. 

Beyond the difficult emotions associated with our move, though, I’m really looking forward to the benefits.  Please, may there be many.   

Here’s to hoping the girls and I survive the coming weeks with minimal damage!

She chooses a quiet table in the corner and there we sit, chatting easily about the minutiae of our daily lives.

The evening wears on and I can tell she has something to say by the way she pushes the food around on her plate.  Her eyes trained on her fork, she quietly speaks.

“I didn’t think you were ever coming back.”

She raises her head, and her eyes meet mine.

I can only whisper my reply, “Neither did I.”

“I thought for sure he’d kill you somewhere out there and I’d see it on the news and we’d never find your body.  I was so scared.”

For a moment, I’m struck speechless by the pain in her eyes.  I am not the only one he’s hurt.

**********

He planned a trip to the coast for my birthday.  October 2nd and 3rd.  We’d gone to the same place on our first vacation together, exactly 12 years before.

I was afraid to go, but completely terrified of what he would do if I refused.  His behavior  had escalated to the point that I was secretly planning to leave, but I wasn’t ready yet.  I needed just a little bit more time.

I insisted upon driving the entire time, because I didn’t want to let him behind the wheel of the car.  We went to dinner to celebrate my birthday and he suggested that I have a glass of wine.  I realized my mistake as he asked for the keys, afterward.  Of course he should drive… I had been drinking.

Five miles in the dark, on treacherous, winding roads.  As the headlights swept around the curves, I caught foggy glimpses of the waves crashing far below us to the left; to the right, a solid wall of rock that seemed to stretch up into infinite darkness.

He was agitated.  Fidgeting.  There was something important he needed to say.  He was talking too fast, jumbling his words.  One hand on the wheel, leaning toward me, looking over at me instead of at the road ahead.  Speeding through one curve, slowing for another.  

Only five  miles.  Only five short miles. 

I sat completely still in the passenger seat, hands folded neatly in my lap, eyes straight ahead.  I spoke to him quietly, calmly.  Stalled him.  No matter what he did, regardless of what he said, I was determined to show no fear.

**********

My hands are shaking, but I finally speak.

“I was scared, too.  He said he was ready to give me ‘The Answer to Everything,’ and I just knew that the moment he told me, he would drive us right off the cliff, straight into the ocean.  I thought I was going to die… that he was going to kill me.  But then… he didn’t.”

We sit in silence for a moment.  I smile.  She smiles.  I reach for my drink.

I’m eating enchiladas at a quiet, corner table with my friend.

I am alive.  I am loved.

And the truth has set me free.

————–

Disclaimer:

Originally I decided I wouldn’t write specifics about my current situation in this space, in an effort to avoid airing my family’s “dirty laundry” to the masses.  Please understand that I don’t hate him, I don’t wish him any harm, and I’m not trying to make him look like a monster.  He is getting help for his behavior, and I hope he’s able to conquer those demons.

But this is my story.  My life.  This was my reality.  I won’t be silent.