The Back Story part two

Okay, so for several years HE and I had no communication.

HE was living his life, and I was living mine.

I gave birth to my last child. (I have three living children, I am sure you will eventually come to know something about all of my children.)

I had reached a point in my marriage where I had given up. I had allowed myself to put on huge amounts of weight. I no longer made any effort to take care of myself.

I continued to lie to myself and anyone who would listen, stating time and again that I was "happy".

I was depressed. I was fat. I was being cheated on. I was being abused. I had decided to die.

I figured I had failed. I had always thought that if I couldn't make my marriage work, then I was a failure as a woman. I had, for 14 years, tried everything I could think of. I had tried to be the best wife/mother/housekeeper/lover/banker/doctor all the things that we women strive to be to make a household run smoothly and happily.

But I had failed as a wife, my husband not only didn't love me but made it known by his blatant whoring and public humiliation of me.

I had failed as a mother, my children were watching my dysfunctional relationship with their father and learning that that is how life is "supposed to be". My son learning to disrespect women, my daughters learning that as women they should allow themselves to be disrespected.

I failed as a housekeeper, my house was always in a constant state of chaos. I worked too many hours outside of the home to keep up with the needs of the household. (Of course the husband being home ALL day and refusing to even throw away his empty cigarette packs or dump the ashtrays, or do a load of laundry, or wash a dish, or do ANYTHING to help contributed greatly to the housekeeping failure.)

I had failed as a lover, the husband telling me more than once that I was a "big, fat, nasty, rolly-polly, pig-bitch". (This was well before I put on the bulk of my weight! And shocking considering the fact that most of the women he cheated on me with were far larger than I ever was.) My sex life consisted of three or four (usually unsuccessful) attempts at fucking, per year for SEVERAL years. The husband most often could not maintain an erection, and would take to calling me names, or just getting up and walking away leaving me to cry myself to sleep while he went to masturbate to pornography.

I had failed as a banker, despite earning a decent wage and making enough money to not have to live in the slum we lived in, I could never manage to get ahead. I had worked all the overtime I could get my hands on, in an attempt to correct our credit, with an eye towards purchasing our own home. Of course I fixed the husbands credit first, at which point he got numerous credit cards that I knew nothing about and maxed them all out with no intention of telling me about his purchases! We ended up farther in debt than we had started out, and now MY credit was even worse because the "martial debt" was also MY debt!

I had failed as a doctor, my middle child had Asthma from infancy and my youngest had chronic ear infections, and had actually been thought to be deaf until she was almost six months old. (She had failed the hearing test at birth, and continued to fail them for months. Until one day she was tested and passed and suddenly started responding to sounds! Perhaps she was the smartest one of all, blocking out all those months of Daddy yelling at Mommy, and Mommy crying so much.)

So there I found myself.

A failure.

I had failed at life.

And I had decided to end it. I had a plan. A plan I choose not to discuss. But a plan none the less.

It was the day before my anniversary. A celebration of my failure. I was sitting at my computer, knowing that I had every intention of taking my own life the next evening. No one else knew. No one else cared.

And then.... I got an instant message.

I don't remember exactly what it said. It was somewhere along the lines of "Hi, I don't know if you remember me but..."

It was HIM.

Amazing HIM.
Wonderful HIM.
Caring HIM.
Funny HIM.
Sweet HIM.

And HE was for me that night, EVERYTHING.

We started talking. And in those long hours we spent that night, laughing (something I had thought I had forgotten how to do) and reintroducing ourselves to each other, HE saved my life.

As we both became tired, and had to say goodnight, HE asked me... "Will you be here tomorrow?"

And because of HIM, I was.

........

I need to get a few chores done. I need to go out and have a smoke. (I do NOT smoke in my house anymore!) I need to pee. And when I am done with those things, I will be back, but for now.. That's all.

The Back Story part one

Okay, so I have been in this twisted relationship for 11 years.

Wait! It is NOT as bad as it sounds!

Let me explain.

I met him 11 years ago. Online. In a chat room. Just two people being nice. Nothing but idle chit chat. Nothing over any lines. I was married then, he knew it, but never told me that he was. Really, it didn't matter, because we were just chat buddies. Laughing over silliness together, enjoying each others company, but nothing too serious, nothing too personal. After about 6 months we exchanged pictures. I sent him the only picture I had, a picture of me holding my nephew, a few years out of date. He sent me a picture of himself with his son, but as he never discussed a wife, I figured he was divorced. Though again it was of no consequence either way at that time.

We stayed chat buddies for awhile. I introduced him to my husband. They chatted occasionally. But, I will admit, I kept his picture in my email. I kept it because I loved his smile, his eyes. Just looking at him made my tummy flip flop. But it was just a really nice picture of a sweet man with a really beautiful smile. That's all.

Then one drunken night, we were all (he, my husband and I) chatting together and he made a comment about being lonely overseas. My husband actually suggested that I "cyber" him to help him with his "loneliness".

Perhaps here is where I should explain that I was in a very emotionally and often physically abusive marriage. I was very unhappy. Very lonely. Very ALONE. And usually took my husbands suggestions as orders, so as not to upset him.

My husband left the room, closed the door, and left me alone with a man who was far away and who told me I was beautiful, and smart, and funny, and all the things that any woman wants to hear, and especially one in that kind of hell. And he was safe. Far away. Never a threat. Always kind, and I allowed myself to become someone else for a little while, and say things to him that I would never have had the ability to say if I hadn't been drinking, if he hadn't been just some words on a screen.

And it was nice. Very nice. For one night.

And the next day I told him that I was uncomfortable, and could not do it again. And he was so kind, and said that he never wanted me to feel a moments discomfort from our friendship. And he NEVER went back to that night. Never brought it up. Never treated me differently. Just was my friend.

And we stayed friends.

And I enjoyed his company. A Lot.

And then September 11th happened.

And I was in the Midwest and was safe.

And he was in the military and was being sent somewhere overseas to do God knows what, God knows where. And one day, he asked. If he could call me.

He said that he just wanted to hear my voice. Just once. And he would not ask again.

And I let him.

He called and we spoke very briefly. Probably less than five minutes. I didn't find out til much, much later that he was calling me from overseas. An International call to someone you have known only online, only as a friend? I would have never guessed it.

And I got an email from him. Once. After that day. thanking me for allowing him to hear my voice. To hear me smile.

And then I didn't hear from him for what would turn out to be years.

During those years, I went through a few different computers.

When it came time to move files from one to another, and I was cleaning out all that was unnecessary, I transferred his photo to my new computer. Unable to bring myself to not ever see that smile again. That smile of a man I had never met. The smile that made my stomach knot, and my pulse to quicken slightly.

I don't know why.

I just knew I needed that picture.

Is it possible, that my soul already knew?

I don't have the answer to that.. and I am tired.

I will be back again, with more soon...

Until then... That's all.

Just Another Day In Paradise...

Okay, so I have taken a very long time off of blogging. And now that I am back, I have started an all new blog, with a whole new spin. Why? Simple. Because my life has changed so much since I last blogged. And I have become something I never imagined I would be. I have become "The Other Woman".

It is not something I am proud of. It leaves me less than fulfilled. It leaves me feeling sad, and lonely, and "less than". It leaves me alone, and struggling to find my moral center again. So why do I keep doing it? Perhaps because I am weak. Perhaps because I keep hoping that he will wake up one day and realize that I am the woman he belongs with for the rest of his life. Perhaps because I am perfecting the art of denial. But mostly I think, because I love him, and i have never been any good at letting go of love.

Love is something I have always longed for, and never really known until HIM. Maybe I am fooling myself with that as well. I mean, if he REALLY loves me, he would be with me. Right?

I am often left feeling confused after spending time with him. I go over and over in my head why I choose to stay in this affair. It is not my nature to be what I have become. I am monogamous by nature, and I have always expected monogamy from my partners. I am morally conflicted. I feel like a thief. I steal from his wife. I steal his time, his affection, his passion, his compassion, his smiles, and anything else he offers me. I take them all gratefully, until he is gone again, and the shame hits me again. But, I know that every bit of himself that he gives to me, is less of himself he has to give to her. How horrible am I? How I would hate me, if I were her!

I know I want more. I want what he has never, nor will ever offer to me.

I need to let go, but I fear I do not have the strength to do it.

I am however taking small steps in the right direction.

I am here.

I am thinking.

I am trying to find myself again. (I amaze myself with how easily I lose myself in other people... a weakness I MUST learn to overcome.)

I will figure this out.

I will come out the other side of this, despite the ending, with my head held high, and having learned and grown from the experience.

That's all.....