Monday, August 19, 2013

Letting the Bad Thing Catch Me...

It's me again
A whole lot's changed
Since I left and
I don't know I guess
I felt like checking in
You let it ring
Well it's your turn to
Leave me hanging
I don't care
I know you love it
When you see me call
I wonder who you're loving now
I'm guessing we won't work things out
You know what they say
You can't have it so you want it back
I'm way past that
Believe me
If you could be in my life
Like you've been on my mind
It'd be so easy
It's me again
It's three days now
That you've been in my dreams
And I don't know, I guess
You've just been on my mind
I don't know, I guess
I think about you all the time
I wonder if she's much like me
I wonder if she's what you need"

We avoid it for only so long before the bad thing we are running from catches us.
The Past.
He is my dark thing.
And he always catches me...
Wether it's through a memory, a nightmare, or hearing his sleepy voice on a Saturday morning through the phone from 1,500 miles away.

Sometimes I wonder if I do it to myself on purpose, allow him in.
And sometimes I'm pretty sure he does do it on purpose, allows me to.

We celebrated Adaline's third birthday this past weekend. Her birthday was in June, but my Nana passed the weekend before her party, so we cancled it. Saturday morning as I was trying to get us ready to go to the grocery store he called. His sleepy little voice wanted to talk to Addy. Instead I argued. I screamed. I cried. I shook. I threw myself around.

I could just see his bare chest, and his hand in the waist band of his navy blue nike shorts while he paced around the room and looked out the window talking to me. Listening to me allow him to take me to that place...again. I think that is the hardest part about these moments, I know that man better than I know myself. And it absolutely kills me knowing that she was there, in the kitchen making his eggs, wearing one of his t-shirts, and they were getting ready for a day together. When he's home, when he's with her...he is so mean, his words break my heart in two. Especially when just a few days ago, while he was on a trip he spoke to me like he used to. We shared a memory for a made my heart skip a little. Then he went home to her, and it made those few moments, and the memory of the dresser with my legs wrapped around his waist, my nails running up his strong back, absolutely irrelevant.

I cried most of the morning, I let it chase me, and catch me.
I surrendered to the dark thing.

Being surrounded by people is something that I love. I love to cook for everyone. I love to have everyone come into a clean house. To see all my hard work and to laugh and smile and drink and be happy. We used to have parties every weekend in Arkansas. It made it feel like home, like we were all a real family, eventhough all of us were miles and miles from our real homes. Our real families.

This weekend, Addy's birthday was the first party I have hosted not in my own home. It was the first time I had made pasta salad and not put it in my matching serve ware. It was the first time I had cut up all the veggies, not on my bamboo cutting board with my Henkel knives. It was the first time I made corn bread with out my kitchen aid stand mixer. In my kitchen. On my stove. In my home. And it was more then I could handle. I let it catch me again. I stood and chooped and cried and cried and cried.

I've had nightmares every night this past week.
Dreams of him.
The bad thing caught me, even in my sleep.

Some days are harder then others. Some days I can hate him and mean it. I can hate him for all he gave us, then took away. I can hate him for the fact that he would never be where he is today if it weren't for me, yet he is a disrespectful little rat who says things like "you're not my family anymore" "you'll never be half the woman she is Al" "you never finish anything you do Al" "you aren't going to win, I won't give up this fight al" AL AL AL! I hate when he calls me Al. I hate that I don't hate him. I hate that when I close my eyes he is all that I see. I hate that I cannot escape him. I try and try and try.

But the truth is, I love my husband. I am in love with my husband. Still.
And it is absolutely destroying me.
I want him to just come home.
To feel my skin, and remember.
To look at Adaline and know we are a family.
And I know that is exactly why he hasn't come home.
Hurt people, Hurt people.
My voice on a Saturday morning does exactly the same thing to him as his does to me.
I hear it every time he says Al, even if it's in hate.
He has to say those things, for what, for her? For himself?
The truth is I never did anything to hurt that man. I have never done anything but give him every bit of me that I had to give and then some.
I just don't want to be his ghost anymore.
I'm sick of the bad thing catching me.
How much longer can this possibly take?
It's been a year, he is trying to fool his heart into believe he has moved on...
And I am drowing.
Some days are great, I love being with out him...
And then the darkness catches me, and all I want is him to come home and save us.

1 comment:

  1. I know it doesn't compare, but I was with someone for 10 years. Never married and no kids so I don't pretend to know what it's like to have a marriage end. But now, 2 years later, I finally feel like my heart has truly started to heal. We are not connected through a child so I have been able to have space for healing, but, at least in my life, eventually it does start to get better. The memories are less frequent - and the sharp pain that comes with them starts to dull. And new things fill the voids and I can start to feel excited about the future, instead of dreading moving on. Praying for you and your daughter.