To Build a Home

Betrayed.

I feel...betrayed.

It has taken me long enough to feel it. First came shock and disbelief, then an overwhelming and heart breaking sadness that took the breath out of my lungs leaving me stinging and bleeding on the inside. Next came acceptance and indifference. After the fifth month, came hope. A renewed spirit to fight, to not give up, to hold on for all that holding on was worth.

The only problem with holding on, is when someone else lets go.

Then came betrayal, so strong that it welled in my gut and rose into the back of my throat. Hurt, anger, fear, pain, all rolled into one strong and life draining emotion.

December 25th, 2008.

Christmas had never been so sad before.

I stayed in, refused to answer the phone, to check email, to venture outside. It was as if I stayed in my room long enough, all of the problems in my world would solve themselves leaving me to just simply be.

And now, I feel it. Betrayal. Had I not bore his children, I might be less upset. Somehow the thought of going through immeasurable pain to bring new life into the world, his life, has left me on fire inside.

"I could stay with you." He offers, as though that were what he really wanted.

Staying or going, our lives had changed and today we made one last attempt to take the pieces and try to form a somewhat recognizable life. If we were working too hard at it, no one felt the need to tell us, just as no one has felt the need to advise us to let go. Stepping into someone else's marriage to offer advice as heavy as staying or going, is not what the general public sets out to do after their morning read of the paper and a cup of coffee with toast.

"So you went hiking. Did it solve anything?" She wrote, seeming genuinely concerned for my mental state.

"I think it solved the uncertainty." I typed the words, taking a moment to fully understand their meaning. "I gave him till morning to change his mind, his heart...though I don't think he will."

I waited a few moments for her to answer, trying to imagine what she was thinking.

"I don't think so." Was her simple reply and I knew she was right.

I wanted him to love me, not just be with me out of some misguided sense of duty. I wanted him to love me in that earth shattering, life altering cross the heavens and the earth for me love and if he didn't have that then I didn't want him. I heard voices echoing in my head that it was childish of me to wish for something so outlandish.

I reminded myself that I had spent my entire life wishing for outlandish things and built my life around making them happen. As a tiny child I would stare at the heavens at night and believe that I was not alone, that thousands of other people were staring at the same heavens, wishing and hoping and searching for the same things. I believed in that love then and I believe in it still.

I had spent years wanting to build a home and so I did. People in the home may grow and change, come then leave, it may not be perfect or always peaceful and it may tire and fill with sadness from time to time but it's mine and it is what I make it. All it takes is turning on a light to chase the shadows back to their corners, enjoying what time I have with those in it and choosing to let happiness replace sadness. It's a conscious choice, to build a home but it's as effortless as breathing because I choose for it to be.

On this night, I choose for my home to be happy, for myself to be happy regardless of anyone else's choice.

Let there be Heat

59 degrees.

That was the temperature inside my house when I crawled out from under my sleeping back at 5:30am this morning. Taking one look at the alarm clock and muttering my utter disgust at the cold and the hour, I sank back into the bed and curled up against my 4 year old, determined to steal some of his heat for another twenty minutes.

59 degrees.

That was the temperature inside my house when I could no longer stand the sound of the alarm clock at 6:10am. It was off to the shower.

Fast showers are a must this week as the hot water usually lasts about 3 minutes. And yes, I actually have timed it. Jump in, wash hair rinse hair while washing face, condition hair, rinse conditioner while washing body, rinse body in cold water, jump out shivering and realize it's 6:15 and I'm already running late.

I'm then in the kitchen making breakfast in a towel, dripping wet in my incredibly cold house. The kids don't want to wake up, their beds are warm. I decide oatmeal will be nice and that worked well until the pot nearly boiled over. I'm still getting used to this cooking thing.

Later in the day...

"Is your pilot light on?"

I pause on the phone, knowing it wasn't an unreasonable question but still somewhat disgusted.

"...I'm guessing no." I answer flatly.

Several hours and a missed appointment with the utility company later, I have quarantined the kids to a far corner of the house and given them instructions on how to escape in the event of an explosion. They stare at me like I have gone mad.

Pilot lights.

Let me just mention that I've never been in charge of a house with gas heat. I open the hall closet, remembering there was a big metal thing with venting and wires in there. Turns out that is in fact the heating system. I unscrew the front and carefully read the instructions on the inside panel.

EXPLOSION WARNING

I started to just put the panel back on and spend another night in a sleeping bag curled up with a preschooler.

No, I told myself. I can handle this. It's JUST a pilot light.

I follow the instructions, unsure about the old wiring, dusty closet and safety of gas flowing into the unit. Once everything was set up, it was down to flipping a switch. Like a 5 year old afraid to touch a spider, I moved as far away from the unit as possible with the tip of my finger on the switch. One, Two, Flip....

I am not afraid to admit that I did jump out of the way.

Roaring, then the smell of gas. For a second I thought I must have made a fatal error but as the minutes ticked by, the air coming from the vents warmed, and the smell of gas faded, I realized that I hadn't blown up nor was I going to blow up my house.

I took a deep breath and laughed at my own insecurity.

People think I'm fearless. I have fear, I just have the ability to do things anyway, regardless of how afraid of them I am. I guess tonight proves that sometimes that's a good thing.

Tonight also proved something else.

I am capable of surviving without him. I may not like it, but I can do it.

Sleep is for Babies

I've never been so tired in my entire life. Laundry, dishes, vacuuming, cat grooming, kid grooming...it's like an endless cycle of something needing done. Squeeze my job in there and the fact that I need to eat, shower and somehow find time for exercise and you have a recipe for exhaustion.

So this is what single parenthood is like?

The days are good, I keep busy so it doesn't leave much time to ponder on heartache. The difficult part of my day is night time once the kids are settled in bed and I am here alone, sitting in the darkness pounding away at keys on a keyboard.

Tomorrow is another day.

An Ode to a Ring

Two weeks ago when I asked him to move out, or when we agreed he would move out depending on your perspective, I removed my engagement ring.

Starting off slow, I told myself. I would wait till divorce papers were filed before taking off my wedding band. I decided I couldn't wait that long.

It's a beautiful band...peaceful, soft, white gold sprinkled with delicate diamonds from my mother's ring. My heart aches when I look at it. It's a reminder of everything I seem to have failed at. I remember thinking I would wear this ring forever. Now looking at it, I just feel pain.

I run my fingers along it, memorizing each crevice, each scratch, each tiny imperfection and I imagine what it will feel like when it's weight no longer rests against my skin.

I think I am saying goodbye in a way as I sit here unable to take my eyes off of it, my heart racing in anticipation, nervous with fear that once I take it off, it won't return. It's a tangible end to what in my mind has been a very intangible four months.

I wiggle it one last time, watching its brilliant display of color and light flash like stars under my gaze.

I realize now...

this is it.

And So it Begins...

It's late, I'm tired and just slightly frustrated over the new direction my life is going.

I can't escape it, everything I hear, see, smell, reminds me of it. I drive the same way home each afternoon and my eyes glaze over as I pass familiar parks, familiar places we used to go, places where we used to be happy.

What went wrong? What always goes wrong? I don't even know anymore.

The worst part? I like it when he is over here. I like it that he sleeps on my floor several nights a week to spend time with the kids. Am I afraid of the unknown? Hell yes I am. I am afraid of what that means. Afraid that for the first time in my life, I don't have the answers, or the direction.

If I sound confused it's because I am and more confusing than my confusion, is that he is confused too. Yet here we are, on a road to divorce after 10 years together and yet we still hang out like old friends.

There are nights when I think this is the right road, the road that's meant to be. I am 28 years old, I have a ten year old and a four year old but I still have my whole life ahead of me. And then there are nights like tonight when I sit here yelling "This is Not Happening" on the inside.

I don't know how to stop loving someone who has left me, someone who would stay if I asked him too. So I am just going to wake up tomorrow and live my life and see where it takes me because in the end, it's all I can do.