Journey to a Foreign Land of … Positivity?

This was a good week by most accounts.

It’s no secret that I see the glass as half-empty, or leaking , or completely shattered at any given time. So, by not being in hysterics this week (really, I don’t think I cried at all in the last seven days!) is an odd feeling by Saturday morning. I kind of like it, in a way that you like another state when you go on vacation. It’s nice, but I don’t know if I’d like to live here… Did I just say that I don’t want to live in constant contentment? Perhaps I need a few more vacations here to decide.

Breathing has been free, my yoga regimen still going strong.  I have joined a gym, but have failed to venture out yet. The idea is still intimidating. All those people! Yikes.

I have been reading a variety of books – dare I say, “self-help?” – that span from the Bible, to Buddhist teachings, to accounts of other women who start off on rocky roads and make full transformations. Am I looking for answers? Yes. Have I found anything? Not even a little bit. That is not to say that there isn’t some great inspiration in these pages, I just haven’t felt that twinge of Eureka! yet.

Some headway has been made with the impending move, although I’m not over-the-moon about my choice. It will be a sacrifice. A back-step that will ultimately be a giant leap forward. I must keep that in mind. Lots of work ahead. Overtime, throw in a college course or two, maybe I’ll see my children before they graduate…college.

My up-and-coming divorce is FINALLY underway. It’s only been 20 months since I made the choice to leave. I hesitate to even give this joker a name. But that will be it. Joker works.  He has gone out of his way to make the path to divorce very difficult for me, for no apparent reason other than pure amusement on his part. But I’ve taken control of the situation, and I am happy to begin the process.

Even Heart had a pleasant week, which is saying something. Conversations have been fluid. Some very deep, others lighthearted. I have enjoyed some very wonderful (albeit stolen) moments with Mr X – or as I’ve come to think of him since my last post – Maestro. Am I crossing boundaries? Yes. I drew a line in the sand when all of this began to unravel and all I’ve done is erase it over and over again.

My justification is that they are my lines, and I will do with them what I please. Maestro draws his own, and follows the same mantra, it would seem. Either way, it has been a good week, even by Heart standards.

I had thought to add my usual negativity to this post by making account of all that failed to go smoothly this week, but I don’t think I will. For now, I will run against character and bask in the rays of light instead of wallowing in the darkness. It is foreign territory, so I am treading softly, and admiring every ripple in the sand.

Operation: Force Myself to Write is full steam ahead!

Limbo Feels Nice For This Time Of Year

I haven’t posted anything lately for a few reasons. Time, of course, being the most obvious and constant. But that’s not even a good reason. I write. Quite often. But then something keeps me from hitting Publish. Maybe I haven’t found the right words for an event. Maybe the situation I’m describing is still in flux. Maybe I have to pee and lose motivation. Whatever the case is, time has not been on my side for this blog. This morning, I sent yet another potential post to my computer journal that is aptly (although not creatively) labeled “Unpublished Blog Entries.”

For a little while over the last couple of weeks, I thought she may have discovered this blog. I had a bit of a peak in views, and it got me nervous. But if she knows, then she has stayed silent, because Mr X is still very much in my picture.

He is also still very much trying to keep his family together. Except when it comes to missing me. Then it’s a real struggle for him. It is no less for me, I can promise you. I find myself desperate for his embrace. And when he gives it, it is filled with passion. From simple arms entwined, passion erupts.

How can I want that to end? Because it doesn’t belong to me. Because I deserve more than this. Because because because…. It’s no use. If I ignore him, he seeks me out. And I am the weaker one. I am the one who has nothing to lose anymore. It shouldn’t be up to me to push him farther away. And truly, Heart is just not willing to let go.

I’m sure there was another reason why I haven’t been keeping up with this, but just typing about my Mr X struggles used up what was left of my brainpower. He lives inside every corner of my mind. I am always aware of his presence. But then he says things like “I can’t stand the thought of you being with another man,” (as if that is an option – I can’t stomach it either) or “I just couldn’t stop myself from wanting to hold you,” or “tell me about your day. I want to hear you speak,” and then his presence is not only known; now he’s plastered on all of the walls, making it impossible to focus on anything but him.

Yes, I realize that this makes me a fool. Yes, I understand that this is still wrong. And yes, I know that I’m being played – not as badly as she is being played – but he is the Maestro, after all. Why am I alright with this? Because for the limited time that we are able to spend with each other, he sees my soul. He makes me happy in a way that nobody else ever will.

Maybe it’s all a fantasy. Maybe if Heart ever got her way, things between Mr X and I would fall apart at the seams. Maybe we would end up hating each other. But maybe, it just needs to happen for me to realize any of that. And the reason I still allow all of this? Because even my logical mind is willing to give Heart her hope.

Lots of maybes these days. Always wondering, never really knowing. I am hoping that if I can at least publish this one, that I will have broken through the blog barrier once again.

 

Cupid’s an Asshole.

Oh please let this day end without me doing something that I will regret. Like eating a slice of cake then purging it out. Posting something that could potentially “out” Mr X and destroy lives on my social media. Breaking down into a collapsed heap of salty tears and broken dreams.

Okay, I mean besides those things. We’re not unringing any bells here.

I don’t know what has come over me lately. Desperation has taken a firm grasp of my thought processes. I have done everything that I “should” be doing in regards to Mr X, up to and including avoiding a conversation with him once this last week. Yes, once. Baby steps. And it didn’t matter. He tracked me down anyway to ask why. I can’t fucking win.

I told him that there were times that I wished he could hate me. “Good luck with that,” he told me. “You could sleep with my best friend and it wouldn’t change how I feel for you.” Great. Where does that leave me?

It leaves me waiting. Waiting for him to sort through his emotions and intentions. Waiting for some kind of reprieve from the constant wonder. Waiting to exorcise him from Heart, if she would just please stop for one moment.

I have allowed him to hold all of the cards, and it turns out he’s a shark. Even though my conscious mind knows that he is simply holding me at bay, I haven’t found the strength to exit left. I can only hope that he knows what he’s doing, because I sure as hell don’t.

Valentine’s Day is living up to its’ reputation. Torturous.

Feelings of Discontent.

I am unsettled lately. Looking for something that I can’t quite pinpoint. Approval. Acceptance. Answers.  Something that will allow me to rest easy. Something that will keep my thoughts in a straight line.

I have been unable to shake the anxiety that stems from anticipation. Constant anticipation. But nothing is happening. There is nothing on the horizon (at least that I am aware of) that should give me this feeling, but it remains just the same. There is no real reprieve. No doubt why my joints ache; they are locked in a perpetual state of flex. Apprehension is a killer. I don’t think I breathe at all until I realize that I’ve stopped.

Can I contribute all of this to mounting guilt? To anxiety over the impending household move? To feeling unsettled in my mundane job?

I just want to focus on the cause of this feeling, but I can’t seem to find it. The only real sleep I’ve been able to achieve has been at the mercy of a pill, and that is not the way I want to function. I desire to be rested. To be fulfilled in some way. Yoga is helping, but only in the moment. So far, I have not been able to apply the calming techniques to other aspects of life.

Maybe it can be attributed to the fact that Heart and I are still locked in this battle of wills. I’m losing. Or maybe not. It could be that all of the outlets I have been giving myself are killing her. Maybe it is Heart that is losing, and this feeling of depression is her last-ditch attempt at pulling me in. That thought is uplifting. I could be Heart-free by the end of this. No more silly nagging for things that don’t exist. No more leading by emotion. If I could just send her back to her burial ground without the risk of Mr X finding her again, that would be wonderful.

Shit.

So here I am, and by the end of this entry, I realize what it is that has me feeling this way. Although it is good to recognize, and gives me comfort to understand, I almost wish I didn’t know. Because no good can come of it. It’s not as though I can or will do anything about it.

How can one person make such an impact on another? Why did I ever allow my guard to lower so much that I can’t muster the strength to lift it back up? How can I stop myself from waiting for something that will only cause me more pain if I ever got Heart’s way?

I wish that there was a way to accurately portray why Mr X makes me feel the way that I do. I’ll try my best to explain it sometime. But not now. Now I need to kick myself for thinking that I had made any progress at all in my control over Heart.

This Date in Time

There are days that seem to make the pathway towards balance impossible to achieve. When those days are strung together, the entire journey seems futile.

It is so easy for me to settle into the darkness. Particularly when there is unfinished business locked away inside the recesses of the mind, just begging to see the light. Without attention, these thoughts can churn some pretty grotesque scenarios.

Today is an anniversary of sorts. I am hesitant to write about it even here for fear that she might stumble upon this someday and it would devastate her. Even more than it does me. For this event in particular, I still harbor so much guilt. Unfair, because I wasn’t aware of the significance of the date until afterwards, but guilt-ridden nonetheless. I realize how vague this seems, but I simply cannot bring myself to write it, even anonymously. It will have to be enough to acknowledge there there is something. And it still eats me alive.

Despite the troubles that this date brings to mind, on most days I am doing well to remain focused. My fitness quest is rapidly becoming an obsession; an outlet for pain and depression. The concept of controlling my body and its’ movements is enticing. How far can I push this limb? Flex this muscle? Oh, I can go farther than that! And I can. It is amazing what my body can do. This is quite a wonderful substitution for bulimia. Same control, with a significantly decreased chance of irreparable damage.

Conversations with Mr X this week have been deep. They have always been substantive, but perhaps I am more aware lately. I find myself conscious of my breathing and absorbing each word spoken. The intellectual connection is so strong, it pains me to think that it could ever end.

I’m all over the place. Although I am not moving, I am dizzy. There are too many thoughts traveling down too many avenues, and I am having trouble deciding which one to chase after. That has become a daily struggle; what emotion should I nurture today? Because my mood can change so rapidly, sometimes even once I choose, that emotion has morphed into another and run in the opposite direction.

It is exhausting.

I hope to contribute the overwhelming feelings of today simply because it is today.

This date in time.

Simply Put: Perspectives

It has been a wild month. And by wild, I mean in my head. The space odyssey that is occurring inside my mind is amazing. And the beauty of it all is that I am completely aware of every swirling thought. Every felt emotion is recognized. Every crazy idea is acknowledged. Every avenue of possibility is being taken into consideration. And I am present for it all.

If I survive this spiral of mental exorcism, I shall never doubt myself again. I will claim victory.

Things around me and inside of my life are still flowing in complete chaos.

Living situation. My landlord has been gracious enough to allow my family to occupy the home until the end of April, provided that the other family move out (they already have), and I continue to keep the house in show-ready condition. I will still pay rent, and I will lose my deposit, but my credit will remain in tact. It was the best possible outcome, but still riddled with holes to fill. We’ll be moving with 6 weeks left in the school year. I don’t know where I’ll find the money to put down on another home.  Will I find a place in the same school district? Will it allow my dog? All serious and consequential points to address. But I am at least blessed to have ample time to do so.

My internal battle with Heart sits at a stalemate. Mr X and I have had multiple (nearly daily) conversations over the last month. Each one short. Each one sweet. Each one profound. There is an overwhelming sense of the beginning that accompanies every moment. It seems a little strange that we would still be learning about one another at this stage of the game. I know that he is searching for something from me, but I can’t figure out what just yet. Hidden underneath every word is a conversation that he’s not ready to begin. But I know it’s there. I have been careful with my words. I told him that he was not alone in trying to do “the right thing.” That I was doing my best to resist the urge to fight, and to give him the chance to work on his marriage. He was silent for the kind of moment that feels like an eternity before responding, and even then it was only a small nod and a sad smile.

I am battling with myself more than anything. I am tired of the fight. Tired of always feeling defeated. Tired of trying to find the bright side of a tarnished coin. The brighter side of feces is still foul.

How can I erase Mr X from my mind when Heart is steadfast in keeping him? And why, oh God why, has this not become any easier to deal with? It has been 3 months since our physical love affair ended, and each day hits like the first. It’s the conversation I miss the most, and during those truly forbidden moments that Heart has seized since the “end,” each word spoken is seared into my mind, like graffiti that cannot be painted over. I know that our talks haven’t helped his conflict at all, but I can’t stop myself from listening to his thoughts, his opinions, his advice, his symphonic voice.

I am crying less, but carrying more weight. Part of this is due to my level of contentment with Mr X (yes, I know that my mood should not be based on another person. Fight me). But I have also taken up yoga and Pilates, and I think that my stress gets banished through breathing and stretching. It’s pretty wonderful. I have battled with my body for my entire life, but the last couple of years have been particularly difficult. From extreme, devastating weight loss when I left my husband, to binge and purge behavior when I couldn’t control anything else. I am naturally slender, but I was treading in dangerous water for a little while that could have easily killed me if I let it.

It was when I did some real damage to my back last Spring that I began to search for body outlets. I found a physical therapist who worked with me to fix the triggers and I became enchanted by the stretch. Something about the extended limbs and flexibility made me want my body to obey those commands. It demands focus, which is equally helpful, since my mind wanders so rapidly.

After my last blog post (low point for sure), I decided to actively engage myself in the regimen. I am still learning, but I  am already seeing results in body and mind. It is incredibly beneficial to have a healthy outlet.

Anyway, that’s my update. I haven’t been writing at all. Not even in my daily journal, which I still can’t bring myself to pick up. I know that the longer I wait, the more I will have to explain – even though they are my own thoughts, the book deserves the respect of knowing, right?

Hopefully now I can step out of my writing cocoon now that I’m breaking the seal. A month doesn’t seem very long, but it has felt like forever. Maybe my next post will have some kind of depth. But I wouldn’t hold my breath.

 

 

 

 

Woe is Me. A Shameless Bid for Attention.

Generally speaking, I’m a hermit. I do not need or crave human interaction on most days. I text back, but I rarely initiate. I make plans and break them 85% of the time. I am a terrible friend.

All that said, on days like today, I wish to God I was more assertive when it came to communication. Being lost inside my own head is dangerous. I am much too aware of the flames that billow right next to me, but numb to the point where it matters not if they swallow me whole.

What is it that I am putting out into the Universe that sends me the exact opposite of what I desire? I wish that I could just tell my friends:

“Hey, will you hang out with me? I need to have an hour or two with another adult before I jump off a bridge. I promise not to talk about all the things that suck in my life, I just want to laugh and forget it all for a while….”

Can I put that disclaimer out there? Because it’s days like this one that make me feel like everyone is sick of my shit. My endless drama has become too much for all of my friends to deal with (all in one day). What’s even more depressing is that only two of them know about the affair. And I only talk to one about it. I have that much more bullshit going on in my life.

I feel like I have the plague, and everyone found out about it at once. There was a meeting. I wasn’t invited. And I got voted off the island.

Yes, pity me. But that’s where I am today. It has been dreadfully quiet. But I can bitch about it here. So that’s something.

My current living situation is a disaster, and I realize now that I never followed up on my last roommate post. But it doesn’t matter now. Quick summary: I still have my dog, and that situation fizzled itself out. But the irresponsibility of my housemate finally caught up to her (and me), and she can no longer afford to pay rent. So she gave notice. Unfortunately, there aren’t too many people (like, zero so far) looking to move at the moment, and I can’t cover her share. So it looks like my little family and I are out on our asses again. In the middle of both winter and the school year. Fabulous. It doesn’t look as though my landlord will show any mercy at all, and so here I am. Looking for either another person to move in (and I need to know within this week) or for another place to live.

Perhaps it doesn’t seem like much. But I’m broke. I can’t afford to move. I left my husband 18 months ago, and have slowly (very slowly) but steadily been building my credit. This situation will leave all of that progress in ashes. My children have just started recovering from moving at the beginning of the school year. What will happen now mid-term?

There are other things, but nothing seems as detrimental at the moment. And for whatever reason, I feel like I should only be allowed to talk about one catastrophe at a time.

I am trying to tell myself that something good will come from this. But at the moment, I am too close to the fire to see past it. I’m mesmerized by the flames and I’m not even making an effort to find an extinguisher.

Numb. Lonely. Terrified. Depressed. I don’t think there is a proper adjective to describe how I’m feeling today. And all I want to do is talk to someone, but nobody is there. The good news is, these feelings don’t spring up often. The bad news (for me, at least), is that when they do, I can’t help but wonder if this is going to be the time that it breaks me.

If the inside could speak on days like this.

I’ll be fine by tomorrow. Does everyone have days like this?

New Year, Same Love

Eleven minutes into the New Year. He called. It took me completely off-guard (I hadn’t expected any contact until at least Monday), and I have been half hysterically laughing and half crying ever since the 8 minute, 31 second phone call ended.

It was Mr X that wished me my first Happy New Year,  his voice. The forbidden call. I am still reeling from it. His proclamation of a difficult journey on this vacation. His knowledge that he shouldn’t be calling, but his  admission that he could not stop himself. He needed to know how I have been faring.

It was so magical for me. For once, I didn’t mince words. I told him exactly how I have been feeling. And he was so receptive. I hesitate to use the word “impressed,” but that is the impression I received. He seemed fascinated by my demeanor. Shit, I was too. Who knew I could come off simultaneously as assertive and coquettish. Generally, I fall all over myself trying to find the right words to say. But tonight, language was on my side.

That’s all, really. There is really no change in circumstance, other than the confirmation that Mr X is still caught between his vows and his own heart (at least that is my interpretation). But it is certainly enough for me to begin this New Year with hope.

 

And the Heart Came Back. The Very Next Day.

No sooner than I hit “publish” on my last post, did Mr X show up at my door. To wish me a happy Christmas vacation. To reassure me that he cares very deeply for me, but is trying very hard to do “the right thing.” To warn me that she knows who I am, and to please be careful about what I post on social media. To steal a tight embrace and a candy cane from my tree. And to carelessly and foolishly return a barely beating, battered and bruised Heart back into my chest.

I tried to send it back with him. But his soft way and loving words left me holding Heart closer than I ever have before. Here I am, days later, nursing her back to health – and pushing my recovery back farther with each increasing beat.

There is nothing that Mr X has done that has guaranteed ANYTHING. Yet here I sit, reliving the moment of surprise over and over again. He still came to me. He didn’t have to. He could have let all of this boil over, then cool off. I know that I am being kept on his back-burner on purpose. Why don’t I mind? What on earth is wrong with me?

There has been no contact since that moment, and yet I know that there will be contact in the coming days. I have been mentally preparing myself for the eventual conversation that will occur. Heart could swing into a (temporary) complete recovery, or be thrust into a sudden paralysis. Either scenario will inflict damage, either immediately or over time, so I’m honestly not sure what to root for. I’m just so tired of thinking about it.

There has also been no sleep. I think about everything, all the time. At most, I am half-invested in a conversation. The other half is reliving a memory, or laying the framework for the next conversation, or wondering if she has posted anything new that could give me fresh insight. There is no escape from thought. But try to pin just one thought down and my mind jerks into defense mode; fragmenting itself and spiraling into so many different directions that I can’t make sense of anything. Just when I think I have a solution, I find myself trapped – inside myself – all over again.

I can’t seem to gather my own thoughts quickly enough to lay them into this blog. Everything that I say feels wrong. It’s as though I’m so distracted by the feeling of anticipation that there isn’t enough energy left to care about the words I write. So nothing makes sense.

And here Heart is, still barely beating, but conscious enough (delirious) to know that it was her Love that carried her back to me. And that is enough for the fool to stay smiling through the lacerations that Mr X himself inflicted. But does she remember that? Of course not.

I find myself once again shaking my head and wanting to apologize for the crazy that this post is offering, but I don’t think I will. The ship that held intellectual and poetic intent for this blog has sailed long ago. You enter my rabbit hole willingly at this point. And I’m sorry to say, we have only just brushed the surface of my crazy. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

 

 

 

Can We Put a Rush on That Bitch Slap?

And here I am. At the cusp of insanity. The threshold of obsession was crossed eons ago, it seems. My detective work has produced morsels of information that brings quite the cornucopia of emotions; From envy to sadness.  Self-loathing to blood-rage. I wish I could stop myself. I officially hate her. My hatred now stems from her ignorance. Her inability to tell time. To question logic. To have even the slightest modicum of intuition. She makes it difficult to feel sorrow.

She seems so sure of the truth. She has lapped up every word he has told her and regarded each syllable as truth. It is sadly hilarious. And I find myself now fully realizing the term “train wreck” for what it is. Such a disgusting mash-up but so mesmerizing that it is impossible to look away. The billows of smoke and the constant rumble of steel grinding.  What if I were to miss the final explosion? I cannot possibly stop now.

When did I cross the threshold of sorrow for her to unadulterated hatred? I imagine it was somewhere between her willingness to believe that the affair ended a year ago and the phone call that Mr. X made to me a week ago. Somewhere in that vicinity is where my sympathy for her landed between shit and syphilis. She is not very bright. It is embarrassing to know what I know and read about what she thinks she knows.

Although my stalker status isn’t winning myself any self-esteem points either. Yet I can’t look away. I need to know what kind of bullshit X is feeding her now.

Speaking of Mr. X, this wolf (who I cannot seem to stop Heart from loving – even from her rock), has been so careful in his methods of controlling my behavior. Just when I thought that I might out myself to her, Mr. X made another appearance to me. “Checking in.” Telling me how difficult this is for him. How he’s only trying to do the “right thing.” Really? Because it’s been a cake-walk for me. Ass.

You know who needs the bitch slap? Me.

*This post has been another product of sitting in the drafts folder nearing its’ expiration date, hence the rushed ending and probably choppy tone. Hitting send after downing my third glass of wine in a two hour span. Good times.