I’ve decided to right a series of blogs, in chapters of my life. This helps me sort through things and have a clearer picture. They probably won’t be in order or make any sense to those who don’t know me.
Sometimes the truth is not only painful, but hideous. As I get older, many of my truths have been revealed to me in ways I never expected. Some of them have been beautiful, but some of them have been so ugly, it is painful to accept. Regardless, I have made it a habit to accept my truths, and if they are ugly, apologize when necessary and move on. I try my best to be a good person, but perfection eludes me. Being good natured helps, but unfortunately I do have a mean streak. What I am about to explain really has nothing to do with being unkind, as much as it has to do with being unfeeling.
I was riding in the car with John the other day and I had a moment when I realized that I really love just being in the car with him. Whether we are talking or just listening to the radio, I just like being in his presence and I love the way I feel when we are together. It made me flashback to past boyfriends and how it felt to be with them, how it felt to be touched by them, or just riding in the car with them. I can remember how all of that felt, except how it felt to be with my ex-husband. I can’t remember how he felt at all, to hold his hand, to be kissed, to fight, nothing. I realized that I can’t remember how that life felt because I wasn’t there. I don’t know when it happened but at some point, the real me took a vacation and left behind a drone.
I was married August 11th, 2007, and it really should have been the happiest day of my life. The wedding was on a beautiful old time paddle boat, chandeliers, beautiful moldings, on the water, at sunset, in Newport Beach. My dress was gorgeous, hair and makeup flawless, and I was surrounded by family and friends, ready to celebrate this new chapter in our lives. The presentation was literally perfect, but a presentation none the less. I know that I should have been nervous, excited, happy, but what I really felt was nothing, absolutely nothing. I felt nothing as I stared into the mirror with my perfect hair and unreal makeup, I felt nothing as the guests started to arrive, and I felt nothing as the music began.
I walked down the isle, looking at familiar faces, tear streaked and happy. All I could do was wonder how disappointed everyone would be when we got a divorce. Yes, I already knew. I knew that there was no way I could spend the rest of my life with this man, but I couldn’t stop. Our lives had taken on a momentum that was fueled with the idea of the American dream, and expectations of family. Now, I am in no way blaming anyone for my poor choices, I was weak and I should have done something to alter my course. The experience was as if I was watching someone else’s life and the movie would be over soon, and I would go back to being me. That’s pretty much how I felt for six years.
You see, when he met me I was already dead. When we met, I had already lived through so much pain and hell that my insides had died long before. At this point in my life I was a zombie, posing as a girl. I was going through the motions, and playing the hand dealt to me. I met a guy, he was simple and wanted me to love him, so I did. He wanted me to be his family so I was, he wanted arm candy so I played that part too. At certain points I was convinced that I really loved him and wanted all of the things that he did. Maybe, getting married and living a new life would heal me from all of the pain and torment of my past. I used him, though at the time I didn’t know that that was what I was doing. I thought that living my life with him would keep me safe, because he was so unimposing and plain. I can’t say that we never had good times, because that would be a lie. I just always knew that what he wanted from life was not going to be enough for me for long. I should have said something and ended it before it began, but like I said I was weak and just wanted to be safe.
We dated for 3 years and were married for 3, and I can’t really recall any of it. I also was not sober for most of it, drinking all the time and pushing down my conscience with pills. I just couldn’t let myself get clear enough to realize what I had done. This poor son of bitch had no idea who he married, hell I didn’t either. None of this erases the bad choices he made in our marriage, it doesn’t change his dishonesty , or remove his portion of guilt. All this is, is a confession.
.
You see, when he met me I was already dead. When we met, I had already lived through so much pain and hell that my insides had died long before. At this point in my life I was a zombie, posing as a girl. I was going through the motions, and playing the hand dealt to me. I met a guy, he was simple and wanted me to love him, so I did. He wanted me to be his family so I was, he wanted arm candy so I played that part too. At certain points I was convinced that I really loved him and wanted all of the things that he did. Maybe, getting married and living a new life would heal me from all of the pain and torment of my past. I used him, though at the time I didn’t know that that was what I was doing. I thought that living my life with him would keep me safe, because he was so unimposing and plain. I can’t say that we never had good times, because that would be a lie. I just always knew that what he wanted from life was not going to be enough for me for long. I should have said something and ended it before it began, but like I said I was weak and just wanted to be safe.
We dated for 3 years and were married for 3, and I can’t really recall any of it. I also was not sober for most of it, drinking all the time and pushing down my conscience with pills. I just couldn’t let myself get clear enough to realize what I had done. This poor son of bitch had no idea who he married, hell I didn’t either. None of this erases the bad choices he made in our marriage, it doesn’t change his dishonesty , or remove his portion of guilt. All this is, is a confession.
.
