Today was a rough day and I'm not sure why. Why wasn't yesterday - the day after therapy day?Don't get me wrong, I cried yesterday too, but today? Today was particularly difficult. I cried at my desk. I cried and cried on the car ride home. And in the middle of dinner, watching tv with my mother, I began to cry again.
The therapy session. He wasn't there. I mean physically he was there, but his presence - his energy - the effort needed, wasn't. He felt distant. No longing on his part. But me? I was so excited to see him, terrified but nonetheless excited to see him. But I walked into the office and he seemed lifeless, no energy - a look of dread to endure another session after a long day of work and more work ahead of him.
And my heart sunk.
That would mean no chance of getting beyond just bills after the session today. No chance of me maybe convincing him to break bread together. Weird. Sad. Disappointing.
And of course I cried during the session. I hate it when I cry. I know he hates criers. I hate criers. But it keeps me from screaming at the top of my lungs. It keeps me from actually hurting myself. If he wanted to get revenge, have me feel his pain, well he's done it. I don't know if he has any idea of my broken heart.
He brought it up again - the fact that I told him that if he feels so unhappy then to get the f*ck out. And of course he reminds me there was no fighting on his part - that he was quiet. Like it's all of my fault - like I put him up to this. But I think his silence was really because he's been wanting to leave - was just waiting for the moment to find "the" reason. Get the f*ck out doesn't mean that divorce should be an option on the table. Get the f*ck out means - I'm angry, what the hell do I do? If I can't do anything, fix anything - you fix it the way you need to. At the end of the day, he left me. He left me. He left his wife. He left his family. He turned his back on his family. I can't get over it...
But I can't take it back. I've apologized, many times. And he's in no way going to forgive. So now I just fantasize about ways to die. About how I wish I could cut myself, be a cutter, but that of course is something I can't possibly do. Too hard. I did burn myself...just a little, very tiny little burns. That happened the night he actually packed his stuff. And then I did it one more time a few days later. And now? No burning. I don't even have the guts to do it larger and for a longer period of time. I feel so weak.
On Sunday, he asked to come by but that my mom and I should be gone. He's taking his bike and taking more clothes and whatever else. He's picked up the parts of his life that he likes and taking it elsewhere. And me? I'm in this big house looking around reminded of his presence. Where he is, is no remnant of me. Lucky him. So much choice and so much power. Psych says I have choices too. It doesn't feel like it.
I go to a baby shower tomorrow with mostly people I don't know. I guess that's good. And of course I'm happy for the mom to be, but clearly it's hard. I am not pregnant. And now for sure won't get pregnant. I imagined starting a family with him - regardless of how or what...and now? He just gave up. Doesn't even really want to try.
This hurts. It hurts like something I can't even describe. I never thought I'd go through this kind of angst. Almost like a teenager, but the feeling is deeper, cuts more to leave me hollow.
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