Change

My husband and I have been doing better. We both feel like some healing has begun. I feel this way sometimes, and at others, I feel like not much has occurred.

My husband still has nightmares about me and the other man being together. I know he has no control over this, but neither do I. He is not to be blamed for his bad dreams, but just because there is no blame doesn't mean there is no guilt.

I guess I just feel like until my husband sees me as his wife who made a mistake instead of the whore who made a betrayal, true healing will not happen.

Hope

Today was a gift from the heavens. Though I still felt the guilt in the pit of my stomach, it wasn't overwhelming. I didn't call myself a whore. And best of all, there were no fights.

Nothing spectacular happened today, but it was the best day since Mother's Day. Yes, it's true. I haven't had a 'good' day since May 6th. That's three weeks ago. Three weeks may not seem like a long time, but when they're all horrible days, trust me, three weeks feel like a lifetime.

Today we cleaned out part of the garage so that my husband could once again park in a garage. He hasn't been able to do that for two months now. Then we played with my son, gave him a bath, and put him down for a nap. (One that lasted for only 15 minutes....damn fighter jets). After that it was off to the mall. For those that know me, the mall is my heaven. The gates open up and I can hear angels singing. You're laughing, I know, but I am being dead-serious. Anywho, there was a KICK ASS sale at New York & Company (the ONLY store in the world that has any flavor and merit to it), and I found over $80 worth of clothing. Actually, it's probably more like $200, just a KICK ASS sale (as I stated before).

I'm rambling, I know. I think it's because I'm happy. I feel....normal. I feel like my hyper self got to be unleashed for a bit today, and I am eating every second of it up. It is 11:21PM, way past my bedtime, but I don't want to go to sleep and lose this great day.

We also found a gorgeously contemporary couch that we are seriously thinking about purchasing for our upstairs "adult game room." I am psyched. I thought it would take forever to find something we liked, but we walked into JCPenney, and there it was, just waiting for us.

My husband fixed a delicious (and healthy) meal for dinner, we took a long stroll around the neighborhood with our son in the wagon, and then we watched 40 Year-Old Virgin. Hilarious movie. (There was a time of connection after the walk and before the movie, but in an attempt to keep this blog PG, I'll skip the details).

Today gives me hope. Things aren't perfect. I'm not sure they ever will be. But I have hope for a normal life. I have hope that my husband can learn to forgive me and my retched sins. I have hope that I can fight for my family and win. I have hope, and I want to hold onto that.

I Want

I just want to feel semi-normal again. I just want to feel a little bit better about myself. Just a little bit. A tiny, teeny, little bit. Is that too much to ask?

Yes, I've made a mistake. Yes, it was a big mistake. But doesn't everyone make mistakes? Isn't that part of being human?

Why is it that everyday, I wake up, and I immediately feel like blowing my brains out. Now don't go calling 911 on me. I'm not that stupid, selfish, or cowardly. I know that I have a few people that love me, and one that desperately depends on me. I couldn't take my son's mother away. But that doesn't mean that the thought semi-appeals to me. I could end the suffering and no longer feel like a piece of dog shit stuck on someone's shoe.

It's not that people are intentionally making me feel this way. No one is calling me names. Except for myself, that is. But little things affect me. The fact that a specific date can send my husband into depression gets to me. The fact that I have to be completely honest and willing to be checked up on at all times gets to me, especially since my husband can hide things from me in order to protect me. Isn't that a bit hypocritical?

Look, I know I've done wrong, but there's nothing I can do about that. I can't go back and undo it. I can't make it all disappear. But does that mean I should have to live feeling like a whore? Like a betrayer? Like a worthless waste of human space? And if so, for how long? I really feel like much more of this will spin me into insanity, if I'm not already there.

I just want my life back. I just want to be me for a little bit. Just a small, tiny, teeny little while. Really, is that too much to ask?

Oh, and By the Way

I'm not a whore, just a slut. I didn't give my husband Herpes. That's a positive, right?

Get on the Rock and Hit It!!!!

I saw an amazing speaker today. His name is Ken Johnson, and he is the chaplain of the Colts. He has come to speak to the students at my correctional facility several times before, and I have enjoyed it every time. I leave feeling inspired, feeling that I am doing the right thing. I am striving for excellence, and I am forcing these young men to do the same thing. I am a dream maker.

I wrote the above yesterday after work. I stopped writing because my son thought it would be fun to sit ON TOP of me while I was trying to type. I meant to continue the blog later, but something changed my attitude. I guess I didn't feel so 'inspired' after therapy.

40 minutes of the 60 minutes at marital therapy was all about how unhealthy my job is for my marriage and my family and how I need to quit. Have you ever sat and listened to someone go on and on for 40 minutes about how horrible you are, and how this is your consequence for being a whore (no, the therapist didn't use that word...that one is mine), and how quitting would be a nice 'gift' to give to my husband to attempt to gain back his trust? It's retched. I don't recommend it to anyone who is weak of spirit.

Sometimes I wonder why I'm still alive. I guess because I'm too damn stubborn to not be.

So all that wonderful bullshit about being a dream maker? Gone. I won't be one for much longer. But what are my choices? I've got to put my family first. That's a given. And you know...my therapist is right. This IS my consequence for my actions. One of many, actually. Like I said in my last post, every choice has a consequence. Hell, even Ken Johnson said that yesterday. But just because I know this is my consequence doesn't mean it makes it any easier to swallow. It doesn't mean I have to enjoy the fact that I have to leave the program that I created with my own two hands behind.

My husband is afraid I will resent him after leaving work. Maybe I will. But not anywhere near the amount that I resent myself.

I feel like shit every minute of every day....and the worst part is....I know I deserve it.

I guess I should explain the title. Ken Johnson told a fable about two young men who were trying to break up a rock that was on their farmland. One worked for a year, hitting it and hitting it when a hammer. Finally, he gave up. The other young man walked up and hit it once, cracking a huge chunk off. The first young man was very angry that the second got all the glory after just one hit when he had been the one to do all the work. The moral? You never know when that next hit is when everything will work. You never know if you just try one more time, if that will be the time to succeed. If you quit--you will never find out. So Ken told us to "Get on the rock and hit it." After hearing this speech, I was fired up. I was ready to hit that rock. I was ready to work my ass off in many different aspects of life.

Now I just want to be the first young man and give up and walk away. Seems simpler. Seems less hurtful. Seems like just accepting the fact that life isn't what you thought it could be.....

Guilty and In a Hurry

Have you ever felt so guilty about something that you feel like you should just go up into the mountains somewhere and banish yourself from your friends and family? That you don't deserve any comforts in life, especially love and affection? That's how I feel. And feeling that way just makes me feel even more guilty.

I cheated on my husband. I know, give me a Scarlet A and let me sew it to my dress and walk the earth forever letting everyone know what a whore I am, right?

I cheated on my husband, and I hurt him forever. He will never forget this heinous betrayal, and I'm not sure he'll ever be able to forgive me, either. See, this was the 3rd time I have been close with this other man. The first time, it was an emotional affair that ended in nothing but a kiss. The second time I don't really count, but of course my husband sees it as an affair (and right he should). That time was more of a friendship affair. I was hurting, and I turned to him for comfort when I should have been turning to my husband. Nothing whatsoever happened. This time, I allowed the emotional relationship to rekindle, and it ended in us sleeping together.

My husband did not truly catch us. He saw one email, but I came forward immediately. He screamed and he cried and he said it was over, and he even threatened to take our little boy away from us. He was just reacting at that point. He was lashing out, trying to hurt me as much as I had hurt him. The sad thing is, that's not possible.

At times in the days afterwards, I regretted telling the truth. I wish I had lied so I didn't have to feel this burning hatred in my heart. I wouldn't have to see the daggers coming from my husband's eyes. I wouldn't want to die from humiliation and guilt. But I know that I did the right thing. I told the truth. I gave our family one last chance.

But it isn't easy. It isn't easy seeing the loathing in my husband's eyes at times. It isn't easy when he pulls his hand away from mine because he's once again thinking about the horrid act I committed. And it's definitely not easy when he says we can't got to a movie since the other man and I went to a movie. My life has completely flipped upside down, and I have to learn to deal with it. Now I have nowhere safe. At work, I have to see this man I had an affair with. I have to feel the shame that I have brought upon myself every time I walk past him. I have to lose a friend. I have to be at a place that is very scary and unsafe and have no one. My best friend no longer works there, and now I am left very alone. Then I come home, and I have to be reminded of the evilness that resides within me. I have to be reminded that my husband and I are not doing well, that we have years of healing ahead of us, that my dream of being a mother once again is put on hold indefinitely.

But through all this pain and guilt, I feel even more guilt pressing down upon me. How DARE I be upset that I have to endure this. How DARE I feel bad for myself. I am the one that cheated. I am the one that caused all this turmoil. I deserve to feel this pain, this guilt, this retched knot in my stomach at all times. I deserve the tremendous pain in my shoulder that I have been told in the past is a "stress knot." It's my fault, my burden to carry. And having no one to comfort me? Just one of the many consequences I must face. I teach my students daily that they have 'choices and consequences.' Why should I be any different? I made a choice. This is my consequence. The pathetic thing is that I saw it. I saw the end before it began, and I could have changed it. But I didn't. I just enjoyed the present ride I was one, not thinking about where it would lead to.

So here I am, guilty and in a hurry to not be. What a fucking bitch I can be.