Forward

Because if I look back, I am lost.

W has been gone all week for work.  This will be the norm for the next 6-9 months.  Again, I am ok with this.  Not just more so than before; I am truly just as comfortable with him gone as I am with him glued to the PS3 playing COD.

Before he left, we had a very insightful discussion regarding us.  At one point he high fived me.  And it was good.  It was the first serious conversation we have had in so long.

I am reminded of when we first met.  When it was fun to flirt a little but we spent more time as friends.   I have always heard that you should marry your best friend.  I wonder if this is really what they had in mind.

But to move forward, it is not wise to look back.  The silly, little girl notions of "happily ever after" are gone.  Reality is messy.  However, there is something very refreshing about where I find myself.  Great Expectations aside; I have the rest of my life to look forward to.

What Now?

I am unsure where to go with this blog.  I do not feel the same struggle I did a year ago.  I'm not the same person I was when I began this blog.  I do not know who I am a this point in my life, but I know I want to be better.  I am better and stronger than I was.  I understand that I am not responsible for my husband's condition nor can I change it.  Love does not conquer anything and God know's there is no such thing as Happily Ever After.

I know that my worth is not dependent on the whims of another.  I know that if I do not love myself, no one else can.

I know I want to continue to write but I know not what I should write about.  In a way, I am still lost.  Only now, I understand that I am lost and I can begin to find my way out.

I know I have said nothing with this post.  But from an Irish girl to anyone who still reads this............ Happy St. Patrick's Day.  Maybe next year, I will be in Ireland celebrating the proper Irish way.

In The Here And Now

I completed my treatments last June and was made to return to work 11 days later.  Was not happy about that; not sure my boss was happy about having back an emaciated, barely functioning version of the person I had been.  But I slowly improved, got stronger, gained back the weight (this part was unfortunate).
I was declared "in remission".

In Dec. I returned to have a series of labs to determine if I would have to repeat the treatments.  I mentally tried to prepare myself; finally deciding that worst case scenario, I got another 6 month vacation.  I was cured, with a less than 1% chance that it would ever come back.  Wonderful news!  Only then I realized I had to stay at work.

What else......

So my son-in-law completed his training for the Marine Corp and was stationed in Cali.  My daughter moved out there last Nov.  I miss her terribly.

My youngest is now a crazy teenager.  She started cutting, stopped cutting, got her hair cut and decided that gender means nothing (this is Teenagese for I have a girlfriend).  Of course we are very supportive of her, we did have to explain that because she could not pick a side, sleep overs were now out of the question.  These are definitely the fun years.  But in all reality, with what she has been through...........this is nothing.  She is still a straight A student and at least we don't have to worry about boys.

W is traveling a lot for work.  When he is home, we get along very well.  There is so much politeness that we are beginning to sound like Sesame Street characters.  Its nice but weird.  I have no real complaints about him.  We have even had sex a few times.....of course he was pretty trashed and probably thought I was someone else.......or just forgot he wasn't attracted to me but whatever.  He texts or calls me when he is out of town and if he doesn't, well, that's ok too. I think removing the expectations has also removed the jealousy.....or at least it removed mine.
I'm not saying that it wouldn't hurt if he came home and said he was leaving me.  But at least I know now that it would not kill me.  I am stronger than I was a year ago.  Stronger than I have been in a very, very long time.

I do not know what the future holds; not for me, not for us.  But for now, I will be grateful for all I have.

Great Expectations

I expected him to come home, that he would be the same person he was when he left

I expected us to be forever, till death do us part, and to be desired, loved 

I expected to grow old together 

I expected him to be faithful, to be the only woman in his life

To love him always, growing closer with every year

I expected......

I heard once that expectation is the cause disappointment

So I have stopped expecting.

In doing so, I have found myself more content.
Now, well.......... I just go with it.

We have a good friendship.  We still laugh, more than we did a year ago; more than most married couples.
We have an open marriage.  Sometimes he even wants to have sex with me.  But we never discuss anything outside of us.  There is no expectation of forever, faithfulness, loyalty, love, desire, anything.  And it has made things better.

Is it ideal?  What is ideal?  What is happiness?  What is love?  Subjective........they all are.

It is relative, perspective, opinion.  I am the only one who gets to decide.  Unconditional love is reserved for my girls.  Happiness is a state of mind.  It is one I try to visit often.  And everything I was brought up to believe in is bullshit.

My mom has been married 3 times and lives with a man who treats her like shit. She has told me this is what God wants for her.  Just another perspective.  I will not blame God for where I find myself.  It is my decision.  And today.....I am not unhappy about it.  It may change.  I may change.  I hope so........ because when I stop changing, I start imposing my own limits.  And I want a life with no limits.

I want to live my own life, not the one set by my upbringing or society or anyone.  It is one of the few things I can call mine.

Tomorrow I may feel differently, but like my life, my mind is also mine to change.

Part III - NM

As I stated earlier, I make no excuse and am not particularly proud of my actions last year, but judge me should you feel the need.

I worked with him for a short duration during my volunteer work in USMC Family Readiness. He was a First Sgt. At that time everything was extremely professional.  Sometime later he would friend request me on FB, though we never talked.  He held a government job, something I recalled during my treatments when I received a letter from my employer stating they were asking for employees for a "volunteer separation".

I've been laid off before and was currently on disability.  Taking no chances, I immediately started looking for a job.  As much sense as that makes, since one cannot get another job while on disability.  Again, I was under the influence of some amazing drugs.  So I sent a message to him asking if he could assist me in finding a good government job.  He called.  We talked.  We talked some more.  We started talking all the time.

He knew my situation.  I shared.  I over shared.  I do that.  I think at one point he probably stated that what we were doing was not OK.  I didn't care and it didn't take much for him to get over it.  

After my first trip to see NM, I came back home and told W what had happened.  I didn't throw it in his face.  I didn't say "see what you made me do" or "now we're even".  I felt badly for it.  My goal was not to hurt him.  It was to fill a need.  One he had failed to do in more than 8 years.  And that need wasn't just sex.  It was a desire to feel needed.  Wanted.  Desired.  

W was never angry.  He didn't even get upset.  Said he didn't feel he had the right to........though it felt more like I didn't matter enough to him to warrant being upset over. 

We planned to get a divorce.  Divided everything up.  I continued to see NM, making the 9 hour trip to spend time with him and search for a job.  I was still undergoing treatments so I was sick a lot.  He took care of me.  Doted on me.  Loved me.

But he wanted more and he wanted it sooner.  When I completed my treatments and began to rethink leaving my girls and my ailing grandmother, I began to see I couldn't do it.  As I withdrew from him, he became insecure and even jealous.  I started to see myself in him.  Started to see how I had treated W since his affair.  I hated that I could make anyone feel that badly, make them so insecure.  We talked a lot.  I tried to make him understand.  He would say he did.  But then he would return to the same way of thinking.

I saw him a few times after my grandmother passed away.  There is so much I could say, but the point is I hurt him.  I hurt him the way I had been hurt.  And I did it because I was selfish.  Because he gave me what W wouldn't and I took it without regard for how it might end.  Sure he knew my circumstances and he knew there was an element of risk.  But that does not negate the part I played.

I miss the way he made me feel.  Miss how we were together.  I think I loved him but not in the way I love W.  I never want to love someone the way I love him.  So utterly and completely one sided.

For now W and I have opted to not divorce.  Our friendship is stronger than ever and on occasion we make fun of one another for our affairs and the added drama we brought upon ourselves.  We never have serious conversations.  It is all kept light and uncomplicated.  Just the way he prefers it.  And I am beginning to understand why.

Part II - Death Comes To Us All

When my Grandfather died, I dreamed about him shortly afterwards.  As soon as I awoke, after I stopped crying, I wrote it down:

The Dream

The matted, rust-colored carpet gave its familiar bristly effect on my bare feet.  The 1970’s wood paneling was barely visible through the never-ending sea of framed photographs. Where generation upon generation of family feigned smiles for the posed, over-priced photos or the random snapshots which held the beauty of a smile much deeper than the lips; a smile that could be seen through the eyes.

The younger of the great-grandchildren played randomly on the family room floor.  I was always amazed that so many people could fit into such a small space.  My brother and sister-in-law sat next to each other on the floor, closely watching their three small children.  My youngest barking orders at her younger cousins as my older daughter teased my grandmother.  The smile I held went far beyond my lips and eyes; this smile originated in my heart and radiated through my skin.

I scanned the room, soaking in the love that is my family.  Sitting quietly in his old rocker was how I first noticed him.  It was a little unsettling at first.  His rocking chair for as long as I could recall had always been on the other side of the room; things in our grandparent’s house did not often move, including them.  They spent 47 years in that that house before they sold it because it was just too much for them to take care of any longer.

My grandfather was not a man who spoke often and smiled even less.   Not that he was an unhappy man, just always in thought.  When my eyes connected with his, his face lit up.  “You’re not supposed to be here.”  My tone was light and teasing, even as I leaned in to embrace him.    His arms, tired and worn from 85 years of shooting a .50 cal during WWII, working as sales man, embracing his wife, holding babies, and his many other hobbies; still felt strong and warm.

He pressed his lips and scruffy goatee to my cheek.  Closing my eyes I drank in his smell and the feeling of just having him near.  When I pulled back, he held tightly to my hands.  “I just wanted to say goodbye and remind you how much I love you.”

I realized that I could no longer tell if anyone else was in the room, the only sounds I heard were his words and the breaking of my heart.   The smile he held, as the tears spilled down my cheeks, was one I had not seen in many years.  It was free of all pain and made him look many years younger.  He was beautiful. 

His hands clasp mine tightly, as though he had no intention of letting go.  As his smile grew more and more bravura, he slowly brought my right hand to his lips and gently kissed the back of it.  As he did this, the room seemed to disappear in a flash of bright light.

I awoke to find the blinds in my bedroom had fallen short of the promise to block out the early morning rays.  I realized my hands were clenched into tight fists; my nails digging painfully into my soft palms.  And though my heart ached, there was a peace I had not felt in many weeks.

I replayed the conversation quietly in my head as I rolled to the side to let the tears fall to my pillow.  I sighed, “I love you too, Grandpa.”

After Grandma passed, I had dreamed of her too.  Only, I was shocked to see her.  I believe my response was, "Oh, HELL NO.  You do not get to come back."

I loved her.  I really did.  But in the end the pain of taking care of her, watching her forget who I was, where she was and even who she was............it was too much.

Her doctor told me that in the end she would be in very little pain.  

I received a call from her caregiver while I was at work.  It was a Wednesday.  She wanted me to know that she was in a lot of pain and it had been getting worse.  I went straight home.  Caretakers are not allowed to administer meds beyond what is shown on the bottle.  But the hospice pharmacy took so long to bring a more potent pain medication, I took it upon myself to give her more.  And gave her even more after the new stuff arrived.  

I sat on the be next to her and held her hand while she writhed in pain, often trying to climb out of bed and telling me how she had to "get out of here".  I held her hand and placed my forehead to hers.  I prayed, out loud for God to take her.  I tried to help her focus on counting (sounds crazy, but for short-term extreme pain, it really does work).  I cried.  I prayed silently.  I tried to talk to her.  I got her up.  Put her back in bed. Nothing worked.  The pain lasted more than 11 hours before she finally fell asleep.  She never woke up.

Right before she passed, she squeezed my hand............and then she was gone.  

Many people told me that she was lucky to have lived such a long life and she was elderly so it was not like it was a surprise.  What most people do not realize is that is one thing to lose someone.  It is entirely different to watch them die.

Death does not come quietly in the night.  It is not peaceful.  It is horrific.  And it steals away part of all those who witness it.  But I do not regret being there.  I would not have had it any other way.

I still have dreams about her.  Most all are that she is still alive and in a much more deteriorated state.  These are nightmares.  

Unfinished in Sept

I found this............ started on Sept 16th, my Grandmother's 87th birthday and two days before she died.



Sept 16, 2013
I have been thinking about my blog off and on since I completed my treatments.  But it was not until the other day when I received an email from a reader, that I had really considered writing again.  I didn't know I had any readers...........so thank you alwayshh6.  I so appreciated hearing that someone...anyone cared how things were going.

I had to go back and read the last few entries; I do not recall even writing them.  Good drugs, I guess.

I will start by saying that I am in remission.  I go back in Dec for more blood tests to see if I am cured.  It took about two months before I really began to feel like myself again.  I still get migraines but they are few and becoming further and further apart.  I try not to take anything if I can help it. 6 months of being constantly medicated and have no desire take anything ever again.  I am not allowed to drink and though I do, on occasion have a beer or glass of wine........I am very careful.  I do not want to have issues with my liver.  I know I shouldn't drink at all but sometimes I really need one.

My grandmother who has lived with us for the past 4 years, began a downward spiral sometime in the spring.  I failed to notice because of the treatments I was undergoing.  She has cirrhosis (old age, not alcohol induced) and Alzheimers or Dementia..........................

               

Nearly A Year Later.

I tried back in Sept to write, but then my Grandmother passed away and well..........I didn't really care much to share my feelings.  And W and I, well........it didn't really seem to matter.  I needed to grieve.

I have a lot to cover, so here it goes.

In April I began an affair.  It was with someone I had known for some time and for bad or worse, someone W also new.  A Marine.  My counselor told me not to make any decisions while undergoing my treatments.  The mix of psychotic drugs, severe mood swings, anti psychotics, sleeping pills and pain meds didn't make for the most sound judgement.  I am not justifying what I did, nor am I making excuses.  I can tell you that I chose him, it was not something that I just allowed to happen.  I planned it.  He was 9 hours away.   Single.  And he was very good to me.  The sex was phenomenal.  Most importantly, I told W immediately.  He was unresponsive.  Told me he just wanted me to be happy.

I made plans to move in with him.  We will call him NM.  I made several trips to see him and he to see him.  I finished treatment in June.  Went back to work.  Struggled to fully recover.  Both mind and body.  W and I spoke of divorce, split everything we owned.  It was beyond civil.  There are couples who claim to be in love that are not as civil as we were.

I began to struggle with my decisions.  I was being selfish.  I couldn't leave my daughters.  My Grandmother's health was deteriorating.  I began to pull away from everyone.  I tried to explain my internal struggles to NM.  He claimed to understand but his actions said otherwise.  Then my Grandmother died.

I was home alone with her.  I thought I could be strong and handle it.  I had been through this with my Grandfather.  I was wrong.  She was so cold.  Her lips turned blue so fast.  Do I cover her up?  Do I leave her alone.  Did I already call Hospice or was I supposed to call the funeral home first?  M was to be home any moment from school.  OMG!  I have to keep her from coming home!  I found the antianxiety medication I had been giving to my Grandma.  I took some.  I tried to call M's school, but they had dismissed for the day.  I tried to call her friend.  No answer.  I took more of the antianxiety stuff.  I called S (our oldest daughter) at work.  I made her cry, but I didn't want to her come home until the body had been picked up.  The body.  Grandma.  M came home and I met her at the door.  She called her friend to come get her.  I wouldn't let her in the house.

I never called W.

Later I would recall him waking me up to ask me what I took and how much.  There were stories of things that I did that I would never remember.

Hospice came.  The funeral home came.  They took her away.  There were many days following that I do not recall.

For now...........that will do.
I will try again tomorrow.