So, Yeah...This Post Will Probably Suck

This post is probably gonna suck because I honestly don't have very much to say right now.

I mean there are plenty of words to be said, but this is probably not exactly the right venue to air all of my dirty laundry and guilt and blame and since at some point in my life I may want to get laid again (you know, by the Hubs or any other man that I may find interesting at some point in my future), I am going to keep my mouth shut about a whole lot of the things that have been rumbling around in my mind the last few days.

Which leaves me with a whole lot of nothing much else.

I have been trying to figure out who I become in this new normal. This After.

I was 17 years old when he and I met (for those of you keeping track, that make me 35. Or, if you are my daughter, "REALLY, REALLY old") so excuse me for wondering where exactly this all leaves me. I mean, I didn't even know who I was when we met (who really does at 17?) and now here I am wondering if I should go back to my maiden name (probably not, by the way, because as unsure of who I am right now, I know that I am definitely NOT that girl) or if I just make up a WHOLE new name because maybe I have been Heather for long enough and I could give myself a super cool name and maybe even get a nickname in the process because the only nickname I have ever had was Heifer and I am not super keen on that one although there are still people that call me that shit.

And then there is the whole quagmire of who is going to pay for this to all be really over, because I think it should happen pretty quick just so that there can be clear boundaries and I don't get all weak and nostalgic and stupid and let him come back home so that he can turn around and do the same things over and over again because this is what he does and I don't deserve that shit anymore because I am an adult and a F**ing grown-up and a momma. I don't want the Supergirl to ever have to go through this again either because this is the second time in her 4 year life where this has happened and I am ALWAYS the one that has to clean up the f**ing mess. So who should pay, the one that asked him to leave or the one that caused the mess in the first place? (and, if you are still keeping track of things like that, no, he does not have a job) I guess that means that I should have to pay...

Finally, in completely random news, I think I can count the amount of time that I have actually slept in the last few days on my hands, I am existing solely on caffeine and nicotine (DO NOT JUDGE ME RIGHT NOW), and accidentally ripped my entire middle finger nail off of my hand trying to pick up a chair that Supergirl had tipped over. I also secured some vacation time, because I need to get out of this blooming town and not see his face everyday.

Hopefully, once I have effectively put about 800 miles between us, I can get some rest...

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Grin and Bear It

Life is too short to sit around crying all the time. Or being a victim. So, instead, we women, we grin and we bear it.

It looks almost painful. 

I don't allow myself to grieve things when they are happening. I don't allow myself to process grief pretty much as a rule, so don't be surprised if I am functioning like nothing has happened.

I will be at church. I will be teaching the toddler class. I will be at my job. I will be out grocery shopping.

I will be living life.

Not because I really want to (truth be told, even though I am awake constantly these days, and rarely ever sleep, the idea of just laying under warm blankets on the sofa without having to do anything for anyone sounds pretty friggin' AMAZING right now), but because I am a parent. I am not a quitter and the last person on Earth that I am going to quit on right now is Supergirl.

It occurred to me today that I have not posted much about Supergirl's place in this new normal. She is not okay with any of this. She is EXTREMELY clingy and territorial. The slightest infractions (even unintentional ones) are met with near-tantrum like conditions. (Case in point: The Scare Bear came over on Saturday night, but a had a very bad headache and wanted to lay her head on my lap and get some rest. Supergirl got super-pissed and started screaming at both of us that I was HER momma and that no one is EVER allowed to snuggle with HER momma, but her.)

And I thought I was walking on eggshells in the Before.

I have been planning fun things for she and I to do. We went to a birthday party and she drove a bumper car. We had a girls spa night. We ate cereal for breakfast and didn't care who knew about it.

And then, this very morning, I went into my bathroom to brush my teeth while she got dressed. She fell apart, screaming, crying. I raced across the house to my girl expecting broken bones, blood, an injury.

"I thought you had left me." She sniffled as I held her close.

I expected to find broken bones, blood, an injury. I found a broken heart instead.

Just My Opinion

I am not going to say that this is all about another woman. I could say that, and try to place blame on homewreckers and white trash and whatever.

But I am not going to say that because it wouldn't all be true.

There are two people responsible for what is going on here. Two people in this marriage that is going downhill faster than a Mack Truck on ice without brakes.

I am one of them, the Hubs is the other.

And whatever he did, or didn't do, with any other women is all about him. He is the one that made a commitment, that said the vows, that swore before me and God and a clerk of the court that we would never be in this place.

I am not going to tell myself that I drove him to it, because looking over the last almost 7 years, I can't find any evidence that anything that I have done would have caused this big of a hole in our continuum. I am not going to drive myself crazy with the "if's" and "could'ves", because quite honestly, I refuse to accept the blame for this.

Which is good, because he is willing to accept all of it.

What I am going to say to any of you weak, unhappy spouses out there, you men that may think a hint of flirtation from a co-worker means that you are guaranteed to be happier with that young thing instead of the wife that you have at home - cheat up.

If you are going to ruin your relationship with a woman that has done your laundry, cooked your dinner, worked two jobs to support you while you were unemployed, and birthed your babies, please for the love of ALL that is holy - cheat up.

Because you are going to wreck her self-esteem, you are gonna make her think that she is not worthy of love and respect and security and honor, there is no stopping that.

But when she Googles that person that's been texting you or writing on your Facebook wall and sees that she is dog ass ugly and fat and that there seems to be no redeeming qualities about her at all (including the fact that she is also currently married), well, that may just cause the woman that you promised forever to to think that she is even more of a failure than she already is, that may cause her to feel like she really doesn't deserve any of the thousands of things that God promises women who are virtuous and true and forgiving.

It may just cause her to hate you and there is no coming back from hate when it burns like this.

So for God's sake, find a cute college co-ed that could model in Sports Illustrated or Cosmo, find someone that your wife would understand you wanting to be with.

You know, that or don't friggin' cheat on your wife.

Just my two cents.