It’s real.

The internal battle is real. I’m doing it again, the push away. The “other people have it worse” the “It’s fine. Everything’s fine” fake smile.

But I want to scream. I want to scream.

I need to just admit to myself I’m not doing good. I’m so angry.

I’m so sad.

I’m so fucking sad.

It’s been three weeks. It’s been 2 since I’ve been home. I can’t sleep, the nightmares are bad. It’s like I smile all day, I do my life, I smile, I take care of my little zoo of animals, I smile, I try to go to gym. I make funny TikToks, I smile. I push everything away.

So it all hits when I close my eyes. What the room looked like. What was left of my father. The smell. The anger. The emotions. It replays the minute I close my eyes every single night.

I’m at a loss. I feel like maybe I shouldn’t do the push away and maybe just crawl into bed and let it hit?

I don’t know what to do. I have no idea how to handle this.

To top it off, I’m also hit with affair trigger season.

And I’m simply beyond pissed about that.

So, if I’m not fake smiling all over the place, or reliving the hell that was inside my grandparents house.

(It’s not his anymore in my mind. It’s theirs and he ruined it. )

Then I’m picturing the husband going to the whore. I’m picturing and imagining the start of their little love story. Was he nervous walking into her job?

Was he excited?

Did he go to actually start an affair?

Did he find her the most beautiful 6 foot Amazon whore he had ever seen?

When they exchanged numbers that day, did he know where it would all lead? Did he care? Did he hesitate at all?

Did he have trouble looking at me when he came home?

Did he begin the bullshit that is supposed to be cognitive dissonance that day?

I’m stuck on Facebook memories too.

I have a picture of him with our first cat 2 days after he went to her the first time. The day we went to get our new kitty, he had a “job” to look at. I’m guessing she was the job.

There’s a picture of him holding the cat after he got home. I stared at it, analyzing every inch of the picture to see some evidence that he had just begun cheating on me.

There’s silly pictures of me and the kids just being us. Our backyard was flooded from a rain, there was a gorgeous purple sunset and the oldest thought it would be funny to put the kayak in the giant puddle. I stare at that and remember where we were headed, and remember that husband was also missing in action that day and I was headed out with kids alone.

Seems he was quite busy those first days, weeks, months that the affair was in full bloom.

Part of me wants to hang on to the triggers of the affair. They feel familiar and almost comfortable, if that makes sense. I completely understand what the next 8 months will be like.

Because when I’m affair triggering, I’m not thinking of what my father did.

I went down to him Sunday night, in his office, where he always is lately, and said, “trigger season.” He nodded, “yep.”

“How about we have that long overdue talk that hasn’t happened yet and you help me take that off my shoulders. I have enough sitting on them right now.”

He pulled out some papers for work and got real busy with them.

I walked away.

Maybe I’m not saying the right things. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

Maybe he’s a dick.

I have a house in Kentucky now. A ruined house. But a house none the less.

I have a house in Kentucky.

My kids are older, my kids are not needing me right now. My kids are absolutely not needing me right now.

Could I stay there? I don’t know.

Could I?

Maybe a month? Just think things over? Just try to figure things out?

I won’t make any money off the sale. He owed A LOT and I would have to split the sale with my sister.

I don’t know if I could even stay there. But I’m not doing good here. I’m not doing good.

In 2018 I knew the triggers would get the best of me, so I got in my car and went to Kentucky to see him and just get away. So those memories are also showing from that time.

I have to say, whenever I feel overwhelmed, my heart and soul wants to go home. I just want to go home.

But he ruined it.

Can I stay there? I don’t know. I don’t know.

I’m just mumbling and ranting away right now. I don’t even know if I’m making sense. I’m just not doing good.

Maybe I’ll just have some wine.