I haven’t written in a while.
I’m trying to figure out the two year Dday coming up. It’s the 24th.
I’m trying to figure out if I even care.
Last year, I was a mess. Last year, I ran into her on that date. Gas station. She didn’t know I was there. I didn’t do all the things I had imagined doing.
She pumped her gas, I just sat there listening to the sound of my heart slamming in my chest. I couldn’t move. I looked at her hands. They touched my husband.
She had flip flops on, her feet were big. Really long ugly toes. She stands 6 ft tall. She has a flannel shirt on over a tank top, a pooch of a belly and stupid hair. Her face is longish, kinda like Sara Jessica Parker. God, she’s tall.
He’s 5’6. They must’ve looked ridiculous together.
He and I are the same height. 28 years together. The first week we were dating, he straight up told me, “don’t wear heels, can’t have you taller than me.” She’s the complete opposite of me. From height to morals.
I want to smash her face into the gas pump. I want to just get out of my car, walk over, and grab her by her stupid unicorn hair and plant her face into the concrete. I feel the adrenaline hitting my system as I picture confronting her.
But I don’t move. Not only is the full scene of the confrontation playing in my head, the aftermath is too. She will have me arrested. She will have a restraining order on me before I can blink. My job, my kids, H’s reaction… that is more important than her. She’s not worth me having a record for.
I don’t move. She leaves. I didn’t even get my gas.
I breathe. I don’t think I did the whole time she was pumping gas into that stupid ass car.
I was already having a triggered filled, flooding, fucked up day, and the universe decided it would be fun to drop her right in front of me. What the hell?
This year, I’m struggling in a different way. This year, at this time, I’m checking in with myself. I’m figuring out who I am now.
I’ve recently joined a gym. There are classes that I’m becoming addicted to. I started out with a yoga class in January. I’ve always love yoga, it was a no brainer for me to grab my mat and go. That class led to going to another.. Les Mills Body Flow. A yoga/Pilates mix. I needed something more, so I started going to the LM Body combat class. Oh did that feel good. The instructor would yell, “Give me all that you can, picture those fists flying into something that releases your strength!” Some days, it’s his face. Some days it’s hers. I come out of this class drenched, smiling and feeling amazing.
These two classes have led to yet another. LM Pump. This is a weight training class. They average about 200 lunges and 800+ reps with weights. I’m on my third class now, and I’m already seeing muscles appearing in my arms and legs.
I’m bettering myself. I’m making my body strong, hoping my mind and heart follow. I feel like it is already.
I’m taking care of me.
I’m journaling. In a real paper filled journal. I’m also noticing I don’t write about the affair as much as I did when I started. I bought and started the Dragon Tree rituals book. 108 Day Journey.
A week or so ago, my friend texted me and asked me if I wanted to go to DC and see the cherry blossoms. Yes!
A year ago? I was afraid to leave the house. Afraid the minute I stepped out, he would run to her. Not that he has given me any reason to think he would… but since he did, and did it so well, the trust is just no longer there.
I’m also hiking again. Sometimes alone, sometimes with the kids. My mind and soul feel better in the woods. I’ve also picked up my camera again. I shot a model last week for a black and white shoot. I don’t normally do b&w, so I did a test run with my daughter. That was good for her and I to spend that time together.
Oh, to have my camera back in my hands, a model posing in front of my lens… I’m finding myself again.
So I’m working out like crazy. I’m getting back in touch with my photography, my hobbies, and me.
It’s good. It’s different than last year, that’s for sure.
But it’s not all zen and pure thoughts. I have my moments.
He had band practice last night. I found myself doing something I haven’t done in a while. I grabbed his work van keys and took a look in the van. I found a business card of hers. On the back of the card was hand written “Love”. I picture her writing it and tucking it into his window or under the windshield wiper for him to find. I picture her doing this after some moment they have had together. It’s tucked away in some receipts that date from that time, so I don’t think it’s new.
But here’s what is new….I don’t care. I think I don’t even care if it’s new.
I don’t even think I care if I leave for a day trip and he runs to her. I can’t live in fear of it anymore.
If he does? Or she’s recently left him a calling card? What can I do?
Leave him. Kick him out. Dare I say… sometimes I wish I could catch him still talking or going to her. Because that would be the last straw. Decision done. Out you go, jackass, sign and date right here on the line.
It’s been a long journey, and for the most part, I’ve been doing it alone. I think I’m tired. So I’m taking care of me.
I still take jabs at her on social media. She’s still taking them at me. I wonder if her and I will ever become bored of it. I actually hope so. As I move along this long road, I’m noticing I don’t think of her as often. She’s not at the front of my thoughts and filling me with rage. She does pop in there once in a while though, so she gets a jab.
I do what I need to to get through this, and yes, taking jabs at her does help.
I still struggle with their ending. I struggle with their start. Funny that the middle stuff is fading… but those two parts of the affair are stuck. I’m really stuck. I can’t process through either point, so maybe that’s why it’s still there.
Last weekend, he was working in the barn. We have some pigeons that have adopted the barn as their new home. H is fighting them. They poop everywhere. So H is down there putting up chicken wire over the old windows and holes in the sides. Hoping to keep them out. So I figure I’ll go down and talk to him there, out of the house, out of the kids earshot.
But when I got down there, I found my throat closing and felt nauseous. I couldn’t bring it up. I don’t know why.. but probably because he reacts incredibly childish and then I have to hear the usual “Look forward, not backwards. You will never be happy. You keep throwing this in my face.”
Even though I don’t think talking about something that should’ve been talked about two years ago is throwing it in his face.
I’m extremely careful with my words now, I carefully word it so that it doesn’t come across as ‘punishing’ him. I even hand him the victim card to play so he can feel whatever it is he needs to feel to not be the villain. This has worked before, many times, it just this time I don’t know how to even start.
So I don’t. So it’s still stuck.
I can see why I’m pulling away. I’m tired of trying to figure out how to play the game.
I don’t even want to play the fucking game. I just want him to finally sit down, say “This is what happened and this is where I am now.” And just hand it all to me.
Screw all this role playing crap. Just let us both say what we are feeling, say what happened, yell at each other, cry, whatever. I’m tired.
So. Two years since my world crashed in on me…
I’m standing, I’m ok. Now, it seems to be about me. Not him. Not her. Not us.
I’ve never done that. And I don’t feel selfish about it. 😊