alonewiththesethoughts

Me, unravelled and unpacked.

Tag: husband

It’s all broken and I don’t like mosaics

I guess I’m standing here looking at what’s left and wondering if it’s enough, wondering if I can still do this: On the one hand it’s broken, to a degree I’m broken, and I am struggling to trust him, struggling to love him. But on the other hand if I end this, I’m teaching the kids that forgiveness is not always possible, that God doesn’t give you the strength to get through anything, that God is not enough.

I’m scared of being alone – not on my own, but alone. But I want SO much more than I’ve got. I want to be wanted, to be cherished, I want to say he’s my best friend, that I love him with all my heart, that I trust him implicitly. And man how it stings when I hear other people saying those things to their partners. We’re right in the ten year anniversary zone at the moment with so many of our friends hitting that, and all I can think is that for us, 10 years marked the start of his affair. When we celebrate an anniversary what does it mean? Celebrating our vows seems laughable – the promise to be together forsaking all others as long as we both live is broken and I know in my head God can fix it, but my heart and my soul are objecting with everything they have.

I was discussing marriage with a friend recently and things weren’t ideal. There were many and frequent disappointments. I encouraged her and recommended they try to reconnect, but between us we struggled to find mutual interests for them to do. It’s just the same inside this house: We have no shared interests, no shared passions, just the kids as glue. His celebrations are not mine – his new camera causes me pain that he doesn’t share his money with the family, or invest in the future and can just shell out £500 without thinking that should be discussed. My celebrations are not his – my bonus is no cause for excitement for him, despite the fact that I offer to spend it all on a family holiday – he didn’t even register something exciting must have happened for me to pick up the phone to call him when he saw my missed call.

I asked for monetary transparency, no movement there.

I asked for open passwords, he acquiesced by telling me the apple id

I asked for romance, to no avail – except for a ring I showed him

I asked for all links to be broken and we still have pictures of his past on our computer

I asked for counselling together if things got tricky and he doesn’t think they are.

I am asking myself time and again what is different between before I knew he was having the affair and now in terms of his behaviour and time and again I draw a blank. I don’t know. He’s here more but we’re not close, maybe closer at times, but there is still a gulf of distance at times too, bigger than ever because there’s a blank in our timeline. The laughter is still absent. The romance and passion are still absent. He obviously doesn’t fancy me, and I’m tired of making the first move, to show him I listened to him when he said he wanted me to try more and be more proactive in bed.

I know I’m frosty now, that’s the anger coming through, anger about what happened and how he crossed a line which I can never undo. Anger that it was ok for him to try out a new life, but I am stuck in this one and that even if I end us, I’ll still be stuck, chained to work to look after the kids. Anger that he’s not trying to win me back, but is just here, unbothered, unaffected with no dates, no nights out, nothing new or exciting or showing he’s trying – like I’m just meant to be grateful for him being here.

Then I think of the kids – I want them to believe in marriage, so if I end ours what sort of an example is that? I want them to love their Dad, yet the only way to explain his leaving would be to say that he hurt me, he broke the rules of marriage and he loved someone else and broke my heart. I can see their faces in my mind and hear them saying they miss him. I can hear the questions, why can’t you forgive him Mummy? If you still love him why can’t you be together? How do you explain that the love has changed, shifted, that we’ll always be linked by them, like a brother and sister linked by blood, but that sort of love doesn’t make us friends, doesn’t mean we choose each others company, that it doesn’t like like each other?

Can I imagine loving someone else? No. Kissing someone else? No. Having sex with someone else? No. So is it just fear keeping me here? Or is it hope that things will turn a corner, that things will change, time will be a healer, I’ll forget and  he’ll want me to forgive? That the first steps will be taken to help the wound to heal? But for now, it’s festering, unsolved, questioning….I know Jesus would forgive him if he was in my shoe’s and that Jesus forgives me endlessly, so I should pass that on to him. I know should press in closer to Jesus to get more of his qualities to get me through this, but childishly, I don’t want the process, I want it fixed, so I pull away from Jesus when I need his guidance most….

Not Funny

There once was a wife saw a text

That got her so terribly vexed

She cried and she wailed

The husband – he paled

Who knows what that couple did next?

And counting…

18 has grown to 19 under my gaze, but never my blessing.

270 seconds in the ring?

Try 2 million seconds of knowing you’ve lost your husband’s heart. That he’d rather be elsewhere: That his time and mind IS elsewhere, even when it’s under your roof.

2 million seconds of faking a life, bruising as husbands and wives around compliment each other, hold each other, make memories and live.

2 million seconds of self doubt, physical insecurity – the most normal things rendered new and awkward. The calendar an instrument of pain.

2 million seconds of double think: Are you making effort or faking till you make it? Are you building bridges or going through the motions? Is this effort or trial?

2 million seconds of paranoia, panic, insecurity with no cushion, no safety blanket. No full stop on the past, barely even a semi colon.

2 million seconds of breath holding, water treading.

The future changeable in a minute.

But every minute telling an unchanging story.

The Switch

Twitter: Twatter

Skype: Shite

Drinks: Sex

Friendship: Mess

Truth: Lies

Trust: Tricks

Future: Past

Years: Months

Love: Lust

Integrity: Dust

The Prologue

I mention a friend has suggested a night out we might enjoy together.

You say you are already going : I feel excluded.

ask me, ask me…

I suggest a family camping trip for my birthday.

You say it’s too cold: I feel rejected.

suggest plan b…

In the void after the date, you drive straight home.

I feel you don’t want to spend time with me.

make plans for us…

I suggest a weekend away.

You say yeah and do nothing: I feel unwanted.

show me you care…

I want a kitten for unconditional love.

I want to feel your individual attention unconditionally.

see the need in me…

I explain that Twitter friends alienate me.

Nothing changes.

need me!