Thursday, November 15, 2012

Solo, day two

I'm together on the outside. I even had one of the kids here ask me if I'm staff. 

Inside, it's a different story.

I miss my husband. He texted at 3:20 a.m. begging me to come home and talk, to fight for our marriage, that he was sorry for hurting me, that he can't nor does he want to do this without me. Kudos to the real staff who listen when I finally break down at the end of the day and level what I'm feeling. I asked the night manager how many women come here thinking that if their husbands get help and change that they'll be able to go home. She told me the answer was half, and that of those that return to their original situations none of them go home to healthy, lasting relationships.

I know what that means. I'm separated. I'm going to be separated indefinitely. I may even divorce based on whether my husband is willing and demonstrates follow through to reach out and get the help he needs.

I still feel like I'm the one who was left.

My bishop called to tell me that my husband had emailed him to find out where I was and what was up. He's only been told that I'm in a safe place and that I'm mulling over the situation, considering my options. They will meet to discuss the present circumstances in greater detail on Sunday. 

I'm still trying to figure out how to get myself and my kids to church without having a confrontation. I'll have to bring it up with staff in the morning. (I'm on the computer in my undisclosed location. Perfect considering the upcoming info...)

This day has been packed with events.

8:45-10:30 a.m. I had the root canal done. The infection was the nastiest thing I've ever smelled. Thank you, ex-dentist from four years ago.

11 a.m. I dropped off my van at a shop in the next town up. Gas leak. They brought me back to town.

Noon-2:30 p.m. I slept. I'm still physically exhausted, and it's difficult playing catch-up when I have the future bearing down on me.

2:30-4 p.m. I received an email from OAKE National Children's Choir informing me that my daughter L-- had been accepted to next year's conference in Hartford, Connecticut. I started spreading the news. By 3:30 she called to inform me that her vocal teacher at school said she hadn't been accepted. L-- and I began efforts to contact the teacher about the discrepancy. 

4:30-5 p.m. I walked to the local Coffee Shop and learned that some dear, anonymous friend had left me a $40 gift certificate. I sat and enjoyed the late afternoon light, sipping my yerba mate, and wrote a bit of poetry. L--'s teacher emailed me apologizing for the mix-up, but verified that L-- had not been accepted. I called L--'s dad with the news. He volunteered to break it to her. Because I don't have a vehicle I haven't been able to see my kids today. It's probably the hardest part of the day.

6-7:15 p.m. Group. There are tough cookies at this place. The support is phenomenal, and for the first time I felt the cracks in my "with it" exterior coming to light. Tissues.

7:15-8 p.m. One of the women dropped me off at the grocery store to purchase my evening meal. Yogurt smoothie, banana, granola bar. I have to remind myself to eat.

8:20ish-9:30 Open mic poetry back at the Coffee Shop. I read. I saw people I love. It was the best I've felt all day.

9:30-10:30 I caught a ride back to my location and got down to helping with daily chores. I'm starting to open up to the other women here. We all relate on different levels. We've all been hurt. We're all just trying to move to the next part of life as gracefully as possible. Some of us are worried about whether or not we'll go back. Some are worried about what man they'll go to next. Some are just looking to secure long-term housing. 

My biggest plan is to cook dinner for everyone tomorrow night. I'm not doing well not taking care of people. I think that's my coping mechanism. Service. Love. Being positive.

The staff all say it, I'm emotionally healthy. I have a great attitude and an honest view of the situation.

So I'm just keeping the dialogue open with God that he'll take the helm and steer this ship to port. Show me the way through the fog.

I'm hoping to get to the temple tomorrow. Even if I have to walk a mile in heels.

M--, if you read this tonight, I love you. I miss you. Take good care of each other and I pray I'll see you tomorrow. GIGANTOS HUGS!!!

G'night world.

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