All That Glitters

All that glitters isn’t gold … my old den

“Watch your thoughts, for they become words. Watch your words for they become actions. Watch your actions , for they become habits. Watch your habits, for they become character. Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.”   ~Unknown

It pains me to write this. But, since it directly affects my writing, I felt it had weight here as well.

Obviously, you can tell by my last post (this is J.S.), there are some tough things going on in my life. When I wrote that post, my father had just been diagnosed with what is likely colon cancer (we still don’t know) and my grandmother was at hospice. She passed away saturday August 21st (date unsure).

But, I had no idea how drastically my life was about to change when we received the news that Saturday afternoon.

Late that night (technically Sunday morning) my husband of ten years (together eleven) … confessed that he’d been having an affair since at least April and that he was leaving me for her.

Let me state for the record that I had absolutely no idea at all that this was coming. At. All. And to be honest, I’ve never been in a darker place than right at this moment. I’ve never felt more lost, abandoned or rejected. The sound of his voice on the other end of the line is distant and cold–bizarre when you’ve been living with someone for that long and they change overnight. Or rather, you realize that you were living with a complete stranger.

We never fought about anything. We talked for hours about all sorts of things … turns out he was only telling me what he thought I wanted to hear. Sad when you consider that there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for him.

I write about love because it means more to me than breath. I never saw myself in this position. I could never have imagined the kind of pain that I’ve been feeling since that Saturday a few weeks ago. It’s compounded by everything else that was already going on, but I sincerely would rather have lost a limb than have lost who I thought was my soul mate.

I would have tattooed his name on my arm that morning had you asked me to.

Why am I blogging about it? For several reasons. For starters, I need you guys to know where the hell I’ve gone. I haven’t been on FB lately, I haven’t blogged and I don’t want you to think I’ve fallen off the map entirely. The other reason is that this is going to affect the rest of my life and therefore my writing.

Right now, most of my stuff is in storage and I’ve moved back into my old bedroom. The dogs are with me. And stuck I’m in this weird state between feeling numb and being in agony. It’s an odd kind of waffling back and forth. One moment I’m shouting power ballads and feeling like I’m ready to kick someone’s ass—the next, I’m curled into a little ball wondering how I’m going to get to tomorrow in one piece. I’ve been told that this will get easier with time. My psychology background tells me this as well, but all of that goes out the window when it comes to my own life, which turns out I’d thought was some sort of exception to the rules of pain and suffering. That’ll teach me. I’m  done with the whole fortune-telling business. I don’t know shit anymore.

The only consolation–and there’s absolutely no fear whatsoever of him reading this blog post because he never reads anything I write, here or the published stuff–is that no one else saw this coming either. This shocked everyone who knew him. My parents are crushed because they loved him like a son. Our mutual friends are angry and hurt because it was an offense against more than just me, but against our tight-knit little crew. You royally screw one of us, you’ve screwed all of us. We’re a loyal lot. Needless to say, this did not go over well. Especially when you consider his timing and how little effort he put into trying to make good on his vows. He didn’t fail this marriage because failing indicates that you’ve tried. He didn’t even dignify what we had with fractional effort.

So, where do I go from here? What does this mean overall for my life? I don’t know. My father has major surgery in the coming weeks and I will be around the house to help my mother care for him, all while searching for a regular job with benefits. So much for writing full time … I will need to find my own health insurance. That doesn’t mean that I won’t be writing though … I have two books to write in the next 12 months. One is a total reboot of a book that’s already been finished and one is from scratch.

In other words, I can’t let this paralyze me.

So, if you’ve sent me messages and I haven’t responded, forgive me. I’m still learning how to breathe again. I’m working on it though. One breath at a time. One exhalation at a time.