The last couple of days have been tumultuous at best. The rise and fall of arguments and blame. The wet eyes, the uncertainty, hiding everything from the children, the digs, the loneliness.
Then a calm has ascended. At this point, only we know how each other feels, only we know what’s going on. The truth behind the sad smiles, the deep abyss of an unknown future. A need to hang onto each other and grieve for what is lost. A desperation for it not to turn to hate. A realisation that something has had to give.
My husband has another pre planned trip in two weeks. I’ve decided in the next few days to go away. Take some time for myself. The pressure of the trial, of running the house and looking after the kids is suffocating. I need to clear my head. My husband agrees.
Talking about the long term seems so hard. There are so many complications and considerations.
I have decided to go overseas and pursue a long term dream of mine, to teach in Cambodia. Take a three month stint. I will miss the children terribly and I will miss my husband. But I will be able to rediscover myself again, free from the rut I have become stuck in. It means we can put any formal plans we have on hold in the interim. I need to do this, for myself, and for my family. I need to find out who I am again. For so long I have been mother, wife and slave to my past.
And now I wait like a terrified child for news on the case.
Of course, now finally I hear from my lawyer. We have a conference call in the early hours. I’m anxious, I’m terrified. I’m being squeezed. I’m swimming against a tide. I want to fight my attacker, but at the moment I have no reserves.
My husband will support me on this call, I asked him to be there. But it’s a hard decision to him. I worry about his boundaries. He doesn’t communicate to me. I know he harbours old resentment to me. And I know we agree that this is the way to go. So am I wrong to hope for his support?
We have drifted so far apart, I no longer know him. But I know that I still want him in my life. Perhaps he has grown whereas I have remained stagnant and he finds me tiring. He tells me I have no passion. No zest for life.
It’s true. Absolutely true.
I survive daily but I don’t live. I’m not inspired. Days and months roll into each other. My hobbies are long forgotten, I’m scared of my own shadow.
I’ve been caught in a whirlwind. Everything has changed. I don’t know what to grab hold of. I don’t even trust my own mind or my own capacity to get through these storms.
I look in the mirror and I don’t like what I see. I used to look into my husband’s eyes and see pure love, I was safe. Now I look into them and can see anger, distrust, or he’s simply not looking at me at all.
My children need me to be strong, they need me to be an example, they need my love and they need reassurance. Love is all I have at this point. I am failing them, piece by piece.
I carry shards of glass where my heart should be. I’m in so much pain. I want to cry out for help – but whom can I cry out for? And who would come?
I need to be able to answer my own cry.