Dejected. The separation from my kids, and yes, even my husband, is taking its toll.
I'm losing hope. I can't see what's ahead. I pray and yet can't tell for certain what to do or where to go.
My bishop spoke with my husband yesterday. Their appointment followed immediately after the bishop stood at the pulpit in Sacrament meeting and offered a fiery directive to center our homes and families around the Savior and his atonement and a powerful blessing that if we will the righteous desires of our hearts will be ours. I knew his words were meant specifically for my family. I folded an origami lily and took it to the bishop to deliver to my husband. "He'll understand," I said. I've heard nothing from the bishop since. I'm trying to be patient, but my heart is aching.
E-- told me he sat next to my husband in priesthood meeting. He admitted that he'd told my husband that he hated what was going on. My husband told him it may take some time, but that it would all work out. I don't know how that's supposed to be deciphered.
The Relief Society president informed me that there are housing options available for me in the ward. The bishop is supposed to be filling me in on those as well. Nothing was said as to whether those arrangements were for me only, or for me and the kids.
M-- called me at 12:30 a.m. in a panic attack. I spent the next hour on the phone calming her. We prayed together, I talked her through prep for bed, and then I play the "think about" game as my mother did with me when I was small...
Think about rainbows.
Think about kittens.
Think about all your favorite Homestucks.
Think about me there stroking your hair.
Think about Jesus.
She told me it would be best if I hung up first.
I went to the high school this morning to request assignment deferments in her behalf. M-- is a straight A student. I knew the teacher would understand. I could see she wanted to reach out and hug me when I explained our circumstances, but my defenses are up and I didn't welcome more than a pat on the arm. After school was out I picked M-- up and we spent some alone time, even catching the closing performance of "Hello Dolly" at the high school. By the end of the show I'd made the decision to leave a post-it on my husband's vehicle.
All it said was--"Ditto."
His last text, Friday, was simply I love you and I miss you. Hopefully he makes the connection. Hopefully it matters.
I know what the rules are, but it is difficult for me to make decisions without communicating with him, without knowing where he is on the page. If we're even on the same page.
I'm so sad I can barely deal.