Hope

This weekend was a weekend of healing, joy, and comfortability.

My husband and I went away for the weekend to our favorite city, Chicago. The little one stayed with grandma.

It was fantastic. We laughed so much. We held each other. We connected. We escaped.

All is not forgotten, and all is not completely healed. But we're on our way. And it feels good.

For a while I doubted we'd ever get back to where we were. I had almost given up. I was resigned to starting a new life without him. But this weekend showed me hope. And a little bit of hope can go a long way.

Timeliness

I have a pet peeve. It's tardiness. I'm not talking 5 minutes late every now and then. I'm talking continually late for almost everything you have planned, ever. That bugs me. No, it more than bugs me. It pisses me right the hell off.

There was an outing planned for this past weekend. Friends were supposed to gather to celebrate two birthdays, one of them being my husband's. Because some of these friends are habitually late, it was decided that it would be best that we (my husband, my 15 month old son, and I) go in early and put our names in at the restaurant. We arrived just a little before 5 and put our names in. Our table would be ready at 6. That's when everyone was supposed to arrive. EVERYONE had agreed to this.

But of course, it did not happen. Why? Because of vanity. Because someone wasn't "ready." It's always like this. ALWAYS. Why can't she start getting ready earlier? Why can't she think of someone OTHER THAN HERSELF? For once? This wasn't about her. This was about her boyfriend and her friend. But no. No thought was put into that.

We (my little family) were at the mall attached to this restaurant for an hour and forty minutes before the missing party showed up. Try finding things to keep a 15 month old busy in a fashion mall that has breakables everywhere and no play area. Our table had been ready at 6, when we told everyone to meet. Our whole party was not there, so the table was given away. At 6:45, there was still no table. So we left. My husband did not get dinner with his friends. My husband did not get to share time with his friends. On HIS birthday party.

And this is the worst part: Did I get an apology from the latecomers? Absolutely not. I got an apoloy (I should say apologies, because there were many) from the party that arrived fifteen minutes early. Yes, early. They apologized profusely, even though it wasn't their fault. I received an apology from the other birthday boy, even though he WOULD have been on time had the tardy party (yes, I rhymed) actually gotten ready on time. He apologized and "took full responsibility," though the responsibility was not his to take. But did I get even a tiny "I'm sorry" from her? No. And I won't. Ever. Because she doesn't think she did anything wrong. I mean, what's wrong with showing up for dinner forty minutes late? As long as it's for beauty, it's worth it, right? She's the only one that matters, right? Forget about the 15 month old she "loves." He's an inconvenience at that time, and her outfit, makeup, and hair are much more important than his happiness.

And yet I'll remain friends with her. Why? Because I'm a glutton for punishment. Because she's the best friend of my best friend. Because I'm an idiot.

And yet again, you read about me getting shit upon, and me doing nothing about it.

Punished

I have done some stupid things over the past four months. Actually, not stupid things. One stupid thing, over and over again. I lied to my husband. The sad thing is, I lied about unimportant things. Things I could have and should have shared with him. But I was afraid to. And it's gotten me into a heap of trouble and sadness.

My husband is disgusted with me. Not 100% of the time. Not even 50% of the time. But that 25% is a big percent to me. To look into his eyes and see the contempt that I see breaks my heart into thousands of pieces.

And I know I deserve this. I know that it is my turn to be punished. It is my turn to feel like pond scum that someone just can't shake from their shoe. But that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

I'm done lying. I have been for weeks. But it doesn't take back what I have done. And he cannot forget that. He cannot forgive that. He will say that he does. He'll even read this blog, shake his head, and come home to tell me that I am forgiven. But then he is the liar. Because I know better.

We have wonderful days together. Yesterday was filled with shopping, laughter, fun chasing our son around. Everything was fantastic, including our night together after our son was asleep. That's usually where the fights start, but not last night. Last night was perfect.

But then this morning came, and he had time to himself. That's dangerous time. It's time for him to think of all the horrible, retched things his wife has done to him, including something that happened close to 2 1/2 years ago. Contempt then slyly sneaks back into his brain and his heart.

He's not completely innocent. He has done things wrong as well. But because that only happened twice (one more severe than the other, I admit), he is forgiven after a day, and all is forgotten. We must not forget which one of us has sinned MORE or sinned WORSE. His was not as bad (some would disagree), and his was not recurring, so no contempt for him. No being torn into pieces for him. Just for me.

I understand that it will take time for things to heal. But how long? It's been weeks, so I assume months. How many months? 3? 6? 9? Will it be years before I will no longer see that look in his eyes?

"Forgiven, but never forgotten." I always thought that spouses were exempt from that rule. I always thought "for better or for worse" really meant the worst. I always thought that a spouse would stand by the other no matter what, especially if they could see the other was trying with all their might to make it better.

I was wrong.

I suppose I deserve this punishment. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. It doesn't mean I have to be strong the entire time. It doesn't mean I can't feel just as shattered and scarred as he does.

#1

Why is it that I put my friends first, yet I'm never #1 in their book?

Why am I told things are not done a certain way, and then my friends turn around and do the very thing they admonished me for?

I thought friendship was a two way street. Why does it feel like I'm always on a one way, and it's uphill the entire time?

I am tired of trying so hard just to be let down.

I am tired of being a friend only when it's convenient or when the other person "gets something out of it."

I am tired of always bending to others when they rarely bend for me.

I am tired of being an afterthought.

I am tired.

Memories

Old memories can sometimes create new ones. Which are better? Is it like the Girl Scout song I learned ages ago? "Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other's gold."

Who knows which is better? And who cares? As long as you have cherished memories, it's a good life.

This past holiday I was reminded of a past life. A life I had long given up, and almost forgotten. But I was reminded of this life, and all the feelings I had then came rushing back to me. It was wonderful. What a pleasant surprise. It's nice to look back at where you started and realize you have changed so much and come so far, yet deep down, you're still the same person with the same feelings. The same love. The same dreams. It's almost simplistic, in a very beautiful way.

I'm going to stop typing before the cheese factor on this blog gets any worse.

Love life. It's a wonderful thing. Crap, there it went. Cheesier. Eh, you'll get over it.

Frustration

Sometimes I get so frustrated. And usually when this happens, it's not over big deals. It's not life or death situations. But they still frustrate me. And when I am frustrated and I can't make it better, the frustration just builds and builds in me, and eventually, it explodes.

It hasn't exploded yet. I think it's fizzled for now. But someday, it'll erupt.

I consider myself a very intuitive person. I can usually read people's emotions or thoughts fairly easily. I can at least tell when someone is bothered, upset, pissed, happy, or scared. And I pride myself on reading these emotions in the people I am very close to.

Yet somehow, I am always "misreading" things in my husband. Every single time. Okay, not every single time. I'm a bit of an exaggerater. My friends would call this the Drama Queen version of myself. But almost every time I read a "bothered" or "upset" signal, I am told I am wrong. Isn't that bad? Shouldn't I be able to read my husband?????

I recently had some training at work. It was mostly worthless, save a few fine moments. But I learned that communication has three different parts. The smallest part is the context. The actual words we are saying. That only makes up 7-10% of our communication. I cannot remember the middle part. But then the largest part is body language. Body language makes up 55-60% of what we're saying. So when I'm "misreading" this 60% of what my husband is saying 95% of the time, what is a woman to do?

Am I not reading things right? Or is he refusing to acknowledge issues? Either way, it's driving me absolutely insane. I either bring up the fact that he is bothered and I am shot down with an "I'm fine." Or I ignore it completely, scared that I'm ignoring an issue that needs to be brought to the forefront.

Either way, I lose. God, this bites.