My Side of the Story

            This will not be a popular post among several people I know.  Because of that, I’m not going to share the link to it anywhere.  If you suspect you are one who won’t enjoy the contents, I suggest you stop reading now.

            Today I heard this song.

Wow did it speak to me.  Especially the part that says, “You tried to make me think that the blame was all on me with the pain you put me through, and now I know that it’s not me it’s YOU!”

I was used.  I was ignored.  I was completely and utterly abandoned.  I watched as the man I loved, the man I ADORED, cheated on me again and again.  I listened as he SCREAMED at me that what he had done wasn’t cheating.  I stared, not even able to comprehend what was happening, as he walked out when I literally needed him most. 

And to make it all worse, he tried to blame ME.  After the first time, and before I found out about the second, any time I would approach him and tell him I felt disconnected, he went out of his way to make me believe I was crazy.  WHO DOES THAT???

I kept silent for him.  I kept my pain hidden, because I was worried what my or his family would think of him.  Especially his… I love/d them all so much, and I didn’t want them to think less of the man they had watched grow up.

And now I know for a fact that at least one of them blames me.  Me.  The woman who stood by his side, who defended him, who begged him to change, to go to counseling – with our without me – or at least talk to our Pastor… Who forgave him again and again and again when I caught him cheating… Me, who prayed for months and months, begging God to change my husband’s heart.  I, who agreed to give him another “second chance” every single time he was unfaithful, get to take the blame.

I’ve wanted to write this since it happened.  I haven’t because of that last little bit of loyalty that was left, I guess.  Because it’s not my place to tell his friend/family what really happened. 

Well, I’m not telling them.  I’m not approaching any of them.  I’m not sharing this link anywhere, not hinting that I’ve written it, nothing.  So if they read this, that’s because they came to me, that they saw the title of this post, and they still read it.  I deserve to be able to speak the truth about the HELL that was the last two years of my life.

            I DESERVE to be able to vent about how he was searching for something “on the side” while I was in labor with our first son.

            I DESERVE to talk about how he promised me again and again that he was done, it was over, that he only wanted me… only to betray me once again.

            I DESERVE to be able to say “I’m a SURVIVOR of the debilitating depression I fell into as direct result of his actions.”

            …And I am not responsible for protecting him anymore.

            I no longer love him – I fell out of love a few months, even, before we split up – and I’m so happy now.  And believe it or not, I do still want to maintain some sort of friendship with him.

            But I have not forgotten. 

            I guess I haven’t completely forgiven, either.

Considering Mortality

            Today I found myself contemplating mortality.  Not instant mortality, though, but rather long and drawn out, like through a grave disease or terminal cancer.  Specifically the kind that are painful in the end.  Although it’s a grim topic to imagine, I have done so from time to time (I wonder a lot about a lot of things). 

Having had Hyperemesis Gravidarum three times, I know what chronic pain and illness feels like (though I’m grateful mine had an end date).  Constantly nauseated with little to no reprieve; persistent pain in your stomach, throat, even mouth… There were times I would pray for the unthinkable, just because I was so desperate for it to stop.  Considering this, I always imagined that, were I to be diagnosed with something both terminal and increasingly more painful/miserable, I would eventually decide to end my life on my terms, once I couldn’t bear it anymore.

Don’t get me wrong, I would predicted I would fight.  I’d fight to beat the odds.  I’d fight to be the 3%, or the 1%, or the first.  But that kind of pain and sickness, I figured, I could probably only bear so long.   

It’s a grim truth, but that’s where I have been with it since I first had HG.

This morning, however, I realized I’ve had a change of mind – or rather, of heart.

Although I still support doctor-assisted suicide for those with terminal illnesses who choose to end their life on their terms, I no longer think that’s the route I would choose.

While thinking about it this morning, my thoughts went straight to R and the kids, and how desperate I am to be in their lives (they went to the kids before, but the thought process then was “I’d rather their last memories of Mommy weren’t of her dying in a hospital”).  The thought of leaving them shattered my heart.  I realized I couldn’t leave them.  I’d have to hope.  No matter how painful that hope might be, I’d want to hang onto that.

I realize we never truly know what we’re going to do until we get there, but I can’t see myself willingly leave them… even to escape the pain.  I think the pain of saying goodbye would be greater.

Forever and Always

This is a poem I wrote about three weeks after first talking to R (shortly after things started to become more romantic than platonic).  I found it today and wanted to share.

I feel this more today than I did even then.  I pray this never ends <3

~~~

Three weeks ago this Thursday

I knew I was alone

For months I had been facing storms
I'd weathered on my own

But then the sun saw Friday,

You answered my reply

And soon I felt a deep connect

Although I knew not why

A friendship started growing

And quickly it was more

Although I tried, I knew that I

Could never close that door

But then, why would I want to?

This rush, this joy I feel…

Although it’s happening so fast

It’s never felt so real

So please, take my tomorrows,

Todays, and yesterdays,

If you’ll be mine, I will be yours,

Forever and always

Nightmares, nightmares, go away...

            I’ve always had strange dreams, and I’m usually quite fond of them (the book I wrote a few years back started out as a dream that I tweaked because I’m not overly fond of aliens, haha).  Lately, though, many of my dreams have been rather unenjoyable.  Last night was just a downright nightmare.

            I won’t go into the details, but basically… R and I were not together.  We hadn’t broken up, we just never got together.  He existed, I knew he existed, I even knew that I loved him, but because of the circumstances in my dream I knew we couldn’t be together. It upset me so badly that I started crying, which woke him and he in turn woke me (for which I am very grateful).

            I’ve had several nightmares like this of late.  Since we got together, really.  The circumstances of each are different, but the idea is the same: I can’t be with the man I love, and I’m devastated about it. 

            At first they had me worried (we’re in a brand new relationship and I’m dreaming that we’re not together??), but thinking about them more and more… I think I understand.

            I am so in love.  So head-over-heels, crazy, in awe and adoration for this man.  He means more to me than anyone ever has, and that margin is not small.  No other romantic relationship has ever come close to meaning this much to me.

            And the thought of losing that terrifies me.  It has brought me to tears while I’m awake.  So of course my subconscious would be concerned with it!

            I have day and nightmares of something happening to my children, but I know those things aren’t likely to happen.  The thought is incredibly disturbing, though, so my mind plays it out sometimes (which is incredibly annoying, but I’ve yet to find a cure, haha).  It makes sense that it would do the same with R.

            I don’t know what I would do if I lost him.  My heart would be shattered.  I’ve suffered heartbreak before but that… that would kill me.  The part of me that makes me an actual person, anyway. 

            So, as frustrating as these nightmares are, I guess I’ll just have to focus on all the good while I’m awake, until my brain catches up and realizes that he’s not going anywhere. <3

Confessions and Encouragements

I want to share something… Something I wanted to share 10 months ago, but didn’t because I was afraid it would affect how people looked at me, and I wasn’t ready to reveal my situation.

I’m ready now.

Until about 4 ½ months ago I was suffering from severe depression, one that lasted almost a year.   Eventually I started to have self-harm thoughts, for the first time in years.  

This is something I’ve done in the past – something I’m not proud of, but it happened – as a way to feel more in control of my situation.  I knew how destructive it was, and I hated it and never wanted to do it again.  So, in an attempt to find some alternative, healthier way of dealing with it, I drew.  Sometimes I drew on paper, other times I drew on my arm, things like that. 

Drawing was a much better alternative to actually cutting myself, but it wasn’t enough.

I should have reached out.

In the moment, that’s hard to even consider.  I can’t say how it is for others, but for me… I was so worried I would be a burden.  I was worried that if anyone knew, they would judge me harshly.  I was scared of knowledge of my situation getting out – I wasn’t ready for that.  I was worried… about things I shouldn’t have worried about.

It took months, but I was finally willing to talk to someone.  And what I discovered shocked and warmed me in ways I hadn’t considered: all those important people that I was afraid to let down… they opened their arms in love and comfort.  They helped me through it.  Because of that support system, I finally found the courage to change my situation. 

I am so, so grateful to those who knew what I was going through, and lent me their love and support.  I owe them my life; it is largely because of them that I escaped depression. 

I know very few people read this, but to anyone who does, if you ever feel depressed, if you ever think that no one loves you, or find yourself contemplating any sort of self-harm… please, please reach out.  You are loved.  Someone cares, even if you think they wouldn’t.  If you can’t reach out to family, call a help hotline.  You are so valuable.   You are so important.  There is no shame in what you are going through.

Depression isn’t a joke, and it isn’t something you can turn off.  If you know someone who is suffering from depression, be patient with them.  Be kind.  Don’t tell them to “shake it off”, because they can’t.  Loving someone with depression is hard, but those who do it do so much good.  So from those who have suffered from depression to those who love us: Thank you.