Resenting his move, resenting his return

I'm just so damn angry. Ever since Pan moved back to the same general area as us, I cannot stand him.

I seriously cannot stand him!

Everything he does and says is stupid and his face is stupid and his actions are stupid. I am usually a more reasonable person but for some reason, I cannot stand to be in the same room as him!

I'm confused about this because I don't remember being this angry with him the last time he lived here...as in, three months ago. I think I feel a resentment toward him for moving because he left so quickly. I feel like he doesn't really accept his responsibility to our children like I do. He takes them "often"---as in, every other weekend and a night or two a week except he only saw them TWICE the whole time he had lived in another state...which broke his promise of coming home every other wekeend. But he's a hero, right? He should be able to make equal parenting decisions, right?

I know that's the way it is supposed to work. I know he is supposed to be able to tell me his opinion on babysitters and discipline and everything in between but because I feel like he abandoned us for a few months and left his responsibilities behind, he shouldn't have the right to come back and act like NOTHING HAS CHANGED!

Because while he was gone, I did everything on my own! I didn't have a break consistently. I made decisions for our kids, took them where they needed to go, and got babysitters when I was ready for the looney bin. I did it all. On. My. Own.

We had a routine. I was used to being their sole caregiver. I was used to the decisions. But I was excited when he decided to move back because I'd have some weekends and weeknights free again.

But Pan has come back and everytime I've seen him, I've wanted to punch him in the face. I can't stand the sight of him, let alone his voice. He says the dumbest, most controlling things. He reprimands me for decisions I've made regarding our kids. I got a babysitter for 45 minutes instead of calling him and he got angry because "that's not on the parenting plan". Everytime he has come to get the kids, he walks through the front door and perches himself on the couch or at the kitchen table while I try to rush the kids out the door. I don't WANT to hang out with him. I don't WANT to have a friendship right now.

So yesterday, I talked to him about it. I asked him to keep his distance and when he gets the kids, to stay outside and wait for me to send them out.

And as you can guess, he got offended...because "Why can't we be friends? Why am I so mean? Why am I so angry? Why?!" and I didn't give him a response. He doesn't deserve a response right now. He just needs to keep my boundaries or shit is gonna go down. People are gonna get crazy---and by people, I mean me---and by crazy, I mean eat a bucket of chocolate ice cream and throw shoes at the wall.

So I hope Pan can stick to the boundaries and shut his face the rest of the time. I hope he can try to understand that I cannot always do things exactly how he wants them done because he chose to leave me and I no longer have to listen to him. I can parent however the hell I want!

And I'm sorry I had a friend's husband watch my kids while I went to dinner. I did not have time {literally} to drop them off to him at his residence twenty minutes away because I had a meeting immediately after dinner at my home. I had to have my kids close by for the sake of that meeting happening on time.

So...
GAH! Go away, Pan! Better yet, stay close by but keep your mouth shut more often!!!

And stop calling me every 3 hours to ask a ridiculous question "about our children". Because even though it's not technically breaking a boundary, it kind of is in the sneakiest way possible.

Get the hell out of my life but make sure you still take the kids every other weekend because I sincerely need a break. I love them but I need a break.

Sincerely,
The-burnt-out-but-otherwise-awesome-Wendy

Twenty-Seven Days

I stare at the same bed, in the same room, in the same house. It was once ours.
Ours.
What does that mean to me now? What does any of it mean?
I am 27 days from my d-day anniversary. Twenty-seven days from the day my life would forever change. Twenty-seven days from my worst fears becoming my new reality.
Things have been extremely hard. I can feel that anniversary looming over me like a constant dark cloud. I have been on the verge of tears for five days now but they have yet to be released. I cannot release them. I cannot give in to the tears or the heartache because I'm worried I will completely fall apart.
But I'm already falling apart. I am already on the verge of another breakdown. I am already shutting down and giving up and worrying and obsessing. My OCD is getting the best of me. My eating disorder is getting the best of me. My heartache is getting the best of me.
It all hurts. Everything hurts today. Everything feels so real and painful.

Twenty-seven days until the anniversary of the day Peter said I was not good enough. Twenty-seven days from the day Peter looked me in the eye and told me he didn't love me anymore. I don't care if he was lying or not---it is a dagger to my heart and I cannot forget that pain. I cannot forget what it felt like to have my eternal partner look me in the eyes and tell me he didn't love me. The only other thing I have engrained in my memory from that day was right after the "I don't love you anymore." He looked at me and said, "I don't care about you anymore, Wendy.". He no longer cared. The person who promised he would always care no longer cared.

So when other people promise me they will never leave or that they will always care, how am I supposed to believe them? How am I supposed to feel like I can trust anyone or get close to anyone again?

I am a mess when it comes to letting people get close. I am a mess when I believe people are annoyed or don't love me or have found someone better. I hope now you'll understand why. I hope you can see why I act needy and annoying and afraid of abandonment.

I am a broken woman still. I thought a year could make a difference. I thought I would be OVER THIS MESS but I am not. I am still weak. I don't feel like a warrior. I feel like an overweight, obnoxious, and heartbroken woman. I feel traumatized. I feel worthless. I feel like my children would be better off raised by someone who actually plays with them and doesn't yell. I feel like every guy I could potentially like is off-limits because I am not good enough for any of them.

I wonder if I'll get to a point where I am good enough. I wonder what that would look like. Hell, I wonder what not having an eating disorder would look like. I wonder what not being divorced would look like.

I wonder what not being me would look like---because it seems like it might look better than this.

Twenty-seven days will go by quickly and soon, I will have to face the anniversary of the worst day of my life. And yet, it already feels like I'm facing it. It already feels so close and so painful and so fresh.
I can't stand it today. I can't stand the thought of where I was and where I am. I can't see hope today. I wish I could erase all of the pain and fear from my life but today, I can't. I'm not strong enough to overcome this fear.

Sensitive

I know, this is a redundant picture. I've used it before.

Tonight, I really just want to forget everybody. I want to forget all of the hurt and the pain and the awkwardness and the crap that comes with being an overly sensitive person.

And when I say overly sensitive---I quite literally mean that. OVERLY.

It's stupid, actually. Being overly sensitive is a weakness of mine and my goodness gracious, I do not like feeling weak. So sensitivity is a sensitive subject for me (ha!).

I'm trying to fight the urge to get my feelings hurt and talk myself through some really tough situations that I'm faced with. This is a huge step for me since I usually shut down when I'm faced with tough situations.

Ok, to be honest, I'm kind of shutting down. Maybe a little bit. But not to the same degree that I used to.
Baby steps, friends, baby steps...
I'm just trying to be more rational and sometimes that means letting myself feel the hurt and the anger for a while and acknowledging that this is who I am. I am a sensitive person. My feelings get hurt when I feel like people don't want me in their life. My feelings get hurt when I feel like people want others in their life more than me. My feelings get hurt by some pretty insignificant things.

I'm sensitive. I'm trying to be ok with that. And when I'm not ok with that, I am just trying not to shut down.

But I get it now. I get why my fight with Ed has become so much harder again. I get how much my eating disorder relates to any pain I feel in my life. When I feel insignificant, I work hard to prove that I am not. When I feel like people will abandon me, I work hard to prove that I am good enough.

The problem is that "good enough = skinny enough" in my mind. And I know my friends don't care about that but Ed tells me they secretly care, that everyone secretly feels like I'm worthless and stupid and sensitive and obnoxious.

This week, the "obnoxious" is my biggest fear and I don't feel any sense of worth because I am loud and obnoxious and I want to be subdued and never make mistakes. I don't want to feel stupid for being me. I don't want to be a screw-up.

I really want things to not bother me so much. I want to be confident and love myself and be an amazing friend.

I'm just so effing angry with myself tonight. I tried to write an uplifting post on my regular blog and it all felt so fake and stupid and I couldn't do it. I couldn't lie and act like I was feeling inspired tonight---because tonight, I feel anything but inspired. I feel anything but incredible. I feel anything but brave.

Maybe I'll get over it tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll be trying really hard to forget my pain and pretend that I am strong and that things don't ever bother me.

Because that just seems like the only way to feel ok tonight.

PS: Pan moved back...so there's that. Maybe that's why I feel like shit. No, I don't think it is but it sure has been "FUN" seeing him a few extra times in the past few days. Yay...not.

PPS: I need counseling. I'm drowning and I need counseling. And the only counselor I want to see is my old counselor, which is weird since I struggled with that for a while. I just don't know anymore. I really just don't know what I want.

Help

I wish I could help everyone, in every situation, in the exact way they need help.

But often times, I can't. You can't. None of us can. Because people don't always need what we give them and often times, they need what we can't give them.

In case you were wondering, I really hate that. I really wish I knew how to react to every situation that presents itself in my life.

I have a lot of wishes and a lot of hope.

And today, my wishes can't come true because I can't save everyone.

The Tornado

She shakes, anticipating the outcome. It is here. The tornado has arrived. Her legs quiver with each sign of lightning. The earth beneath her cracks and the sky is full of grey.

Life as she knows it is over. Everything she has trusted to keep her grounded is now uprooted. The steps she will take will determine parts of her outcome but it is not all up to her. Forces cause her to tremble, to fall, to move in directions she never planned on going.

She runs. She walks. She crawls if she has to. Determined not to let this hell engulf every part of her, she continues on her journey. She will make it. She has to make it.

The only other choice is to give up but she is a warrior.

Her army rallies around her. They can see that she is struggling to find a path around the tornado and she needs their help. And help, they will. They have been there before. They know what this tornado feels like and they know how to find a way. They provide her with flashlights, food, a first-aid kit, and water so she is prepared to make her journey.

She is never alone. Some days, she stands tall. Other days, she lays down on the ground. The tornado lasts longer than anything she has ever experienced. She wonders when it will end. She wonders how it will end.

Can her marriage survive? Will her children survive? Does her soul survive?

She braces for the storm and she prays. With everything she has, she prays that she is strong enough to handle the outcome.

Suddenly, the tornado has wrapped around her. She couldn't get past it, no matter how hard she tried. In the middle of the tornado, she remembers all of the hurtful things her husband has done and said, all of the insecurities she has about herself, and all of the ways she has failed as a mother. She falls to the ground and tries to come to grips with her ending. This must be how it ends. Nothing this painful can possibly be endured by one person.

But when she looks up, she finds her warrior sisters fighting to make their way to the middle of the tornado. They have come to be with her. They realize they cannot rescue her. They cannot pull her from the middle of the tornado. But they can wait with her until it is all over. They can make sure she isn't alone.

The storm finally ends. She is bleeding but not completely broken. Her arms are filled with cuts and bruises and her heart is still aching. Her sisters gather her in their arms and help to heal her. The process is slow. She doesn't fully believe she can ever be healed from the trauma of her tornado. But she lets them in anyway.

She trusts her warrior sisters, for they have been there when no one else would come. They have taken on her heartache and empathized with her pain. They have given her tools she couldn't find on her own.

She used to look at tornados and wonder how anyone was able to survive them but now she knows. She has done it. She has survived the very thing she thought was unsurvivable.

She will make it. There may be other storms that come her way but she will make it.

She is a warrior.

Dear Mr and Mrs Pan

Peter comes from a home where his father is the chief. He runs the household, almost by himself, while his wife is subservient and is expected to tend to his every need.

I used to think I wanted to be in a household like this. I grew up seeing my mom and the amazing housewife she is and I wanted to be just like her. I wanted to cook and clean and raise children. It looked so glamorous from my young point of view.

But the difference between Peter's family and mine stems from the patriarch's point of view. In our household, my parents were equal. In Peter's household, his dad was the boss.

Often times, we would visit and I would witness scenes that would make me cringe. I would hear harsh words spoken about Pan's mom from his dad and also from his younger brothers. They were being raised in this environment to believe this was the norm.

Peter often had to promise me this wouldn't be us. I am too headstrong to be subservient. I am his equal. I may end up a stay at home mother but I would be his partner, his equal partner. Peter always reassured me this was the case, although I still found it odd that he would defend the way his parents' did things.

His parents and I have never completely seen eye to eye because there have been times I've spoken out against the things said in their household when I cannot stand the emotional abuse one more second. They always knew I was strong-willed. Peter's mom would joke about "the teenager I used to be" often, as if she knew anything about my teenage years. We may have grown up attending the same church but Peter's mom has no idea what I endured in high school---just that I was rebellious.

Because of our not-so-wonderful relationship {and that fact that they have an incredible relationship with two of Peter's brother's wives...awesome}, it was weird trying to figure out where we stood after Peter left me. I knew I wasn't going to cultivate a relationship with them any longer but they are still the grandparents of our children and I have our children the majority of the time.

A week after we separated, Peter took our daughter to visit his family, who live an hour away from us, for the weekend. Upon their return, I received a call from the one sister-in-law I get along with telling me that my mother-in-law had been talking about how horrible it was that I kicked Peter out because he wasn't attending church. I mean, what Christ-like wife would do such a thing?! I sighed and grunted as I tried to figure out what my next move would be.

At the time, I was so incredibly worried about Peter. I was still in love. I wanted him to come home. I wanted this mess to work out in the end. In my mind, he would tell his family what he wanted but his parents needed to know the truth because he would be needing their support. So I wrote them a letter.

And tonight as I was moving my bed from one wall to the other, I found the letter on the floor. I never did send it because I could never find the right wording. But here was the first draft:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Pan,
I've been wanting to sit down and write this letter since the day Peter moved out. I need you guys to know certain events, not because I need your support but because I know your son needs you.
Peter and I had a conversation after Labor Day weekend where he eluded that he told his family our separation was mutual. You need to know that isn't true. Four weeks ago, I was sitting at home on a Saturday with our kids while Peter was at work. Things had seemed to be remarkably better in our marriage the past couple of months and I remember thinking how blessed I was. In the afternoon, I received a warning from the Holy Ghost that I needed to check on Peter at work. I put the kids in the car and we drove to his work and his car wasn't there. I called him and he said he couldn't talk because he was working. I know angels were with me because I was not my normal, feisty self. I calmy confronted him about his lie and he admitted that he was hanging out with friends. He proceeded to tell me that he wasn't happy in our marriage and that he wanted a divorce. I was completely blindsided. I asked him to meet me at home and I dropped our kids off with my sister.
We talked for a while at home and Peter decided he wanted a separation. He told me he no longer loves me or cares about me. I told him to take a month to make his decision, even though his mind seemed to be made up already. He told me marriage shouldn't be this hard and that he didn't want to keep working at it.
When he left, I was not emotionally stable enough to pick up the kids and so I went to the temple to find peace.
Over the last four weeks, I have found that peace. Everyone seems confused as to how I'm doing so well but I know it is because I've never felt closer to the Spirit. That isn't to say I'm happy about any of this or that every day is great. I still have hard days and I've told Peter numerous times that I'm willing to work on our marriage. I understand the covenants I made six and a half years ago and I'm willing to keep them but there isn't anything I can do if Peter does not want to be married to me.
It has been a hard year since Peter decided to stop going to church. I have seen so many changes in him in that year that have made me worry about him. He has admitted that I didn't catch him the first time he lied about being at work. He is very closed off and I can see that he is unhappy. That is why I'm writing you this letter. I don't want anyone to be upset with him for leaving me. He needs you guys now more than ever before. He needs reminders that you love him and that God loves him. He needs support. He also needs help regaining the testimony he had when we got married. He would never tell you this but he has had a hard time watching all of the help you guys give to his brothers and sister. Often times he has told me he doesn't feel as important as his siblings to you guys. I'm praying that you'll be able to show him the love he wouldn't accept from me. I will always care about him and I pray he finds the happiness he is searching for.
Please keep this information between us. I don't mind that he is telling people it was a mutual decision or that it was my decision. I know he is saying that because he is afraid of being abandoned by his family. I know you love him and want what's best for him. Peter and I have discussed not talking badly about each other so that our kids can someday heal from all of this. I pray everyone in both families can do the same. Thank you.
-Wendy-

I'll never send that letter. I don't feel as strongly as I did back then to protect him. I've been open about this being his decision. I've learned that in order for me to heal, I needed to own my side of the story and that means not allowing him to lie about what happened.

They have since learned that he left me, although I don't think they'll ever fully believe it. But that's ok. All I can do is tell my story and hope they give their son the love that he needs. Aside from that, I can do nothing for him.

This divorce has been a learning curve for all of us. I have seen firsthand how insensitive people can be---including and mostly limited to Peter's mom. I've been hurt by her multiple times throughout this mess but every time, I've stood back up and confronted her about her behavior.

I haven't had contact with his family in months. Of course, just this week my mom received a message from his mom for my dad to call Peter's dad. Uhh...my dad did not call him. I wish I could figure out what that conversation would've been about but I probably never will and that's ok.

I hope Peter's family continues to rally around him, more than they've ever done before. I hope they show him the love he deserves as an equal member of their family. I often pray for that because Peter deserves what the rest of his siblings have---and I've never understood why he wasn't privileged to receive it.

Tonight I Struggle

There is so much fear involved with an eating disorder. Recovery and addiction both involve fear. Neither seems 100% free of it.

I am calling out for help tonight through my blog that I'm sure 3 people read. I fear what my brain says tonight. I fear that I have cut almost all of the strings I had attached for safety.

I was sick this weekend and unwillingly threw up a few times. I went to church today still feeling a bit nauseous so I didn't eat beforehand and I slept in and missed an hour of church---did I mention church starts at 10:00am?

As I walked the halls, I was getting stopped over and over again by women asking me how I've lost so much weight. At first, I felt awkward. Would they like to know what my real secret has been? But after the first two stops, I started to feel good. I felt a little more confident and a lot more beautiful. I felt the attention and I soaked it in.

And I couldn't bring myself to keep food down the rest of the day.

So tonight I tried to reel in my safety nets by reading my journal and as I read a few key entries, I remembered.

I remembered the night I blacked out in my own bathroom and all I could do was crawl into my bed and hope I'd be awake the next morning.

I remembered the times I would be running at the gym and my vision would blur as I pushed my body beyond what it should've been capable of doing.

But most of all, I remembered the night I broke. I had gone out to eat with my sister and although I needed to go to the grocery store before picking up my kids, I stopped at home to purge what I'd eaten because I had become so obsessed with my eating disorder that I couldn't handle letting food sit in my body. As I walked through the store that night, I could hardly stand up straight. I felt weaker than I'd ever felt before. I feared passing out and I prayed over and over that it wouldn't happen in public. I couldn't walk more than a few feet without needing to stop and talk myself through the moment so I'd stay coherent. I was scared. I was more scared than I ever remember being.

And in my moment of weakness, I hurt the heart of a friend. I panicked and became selfish because I was worried about my body functioning. I feared my own self and it was the biggest wake up call I'd had up until that point. In that moment, I was my own enemy.

I thought I had lost a friend that night and I thought I had lost myself. But instead my friend did things she shouldn't have had to do and she talked me through my hell and trusted that I would want to recover.

I lived through that experience and I'm grateful for that. I am grateful for friends and recovery and God. I am grateful for my second and third and fifteenth chances.

Tonight I need to be reminded of why I'm recovering. I need to be reminded that I don't want to be back there. I am much happier where I am right now. I share those experiences to show you why I'm fighting. Those are very painful and vulnerable experiences for me to share. When each of them happened, I swore I would never tell a single person. I was ashamed of who I was and the choices I was making. I was ashamed of the selfishness because that is not who I am.

I am not a selfish person. I love helping other people. I hate the person my eating disorder turns me into. I don't want to be her. That isn't the real Wendy.

But it is so hard to fight when I'm surrounded by people who care so much about appearance. It isn't their fault---it's just the world we live in. I find myself sucking my stomach in as far as I can handle it and pinching the fat under my arms and sticking my chin out, all in an effort to look a certain way so people will like me.

I wish I could trust that people like me no matter what. It's just scary to trust that when I struggle to like myself.

I am trying. Tomorrow is a new day and I'm going to try my damndest to be strong and fight the things ed tells me. I want to challenge them. I really do.

I promise I'll keep trying.

Wendy is Me

I think my favorite part about the above picture is that this picture of Wendy is me. It really is.

Maybe it's the naturally sandy brown hair. Maybe it's the pursed lips. But probably it's the headband across the forehead---because that is one of my favorite pieces of jewelry (?Is it jewelry?) to wear.

I'm holding on by a thousand threads---which is way better than one, amiright?

Some days, a few threads break off. Other days, a hundred of them are snapped. But the thing is, some days, I have learned to attach a few extras on for safety.

So when I feel like I'm going to drown, there is a lifeboat nearby.

Because of my eating disorder recovery and the helluva rollercoaster this all is for me, I am trying to build myself a few safety vests for the times I am low...which is now.

So although I no longer see a therapist {probably not the best idea} and I really crave buying a scale right now, I have also set up safety nets for when I am acting this way.

I have friends that I force myself to talk to when I really don't want to talk. I have written messages ALL OVER my mirror and the white board in my room that remind me who I am and why I'm fighting. I read old journals when I contemplate being "back there"---as in, back to the way things were 4 months ago in the worst of the worst of this.

Because control seems like something I want but what I really want is God to keep control. Even though I have a hard time trusting life and keeping my heart safe, I try really hard to believe that this is not the way things are going to be forever.

I have to believe that. It's what I have right now.

Trust Yourself

June 21st, 2013: I feel extremely lonely tonight. Peter is sick and I haven't seen him in 24 hours. I've been taking care of the kids all by myself. I hate feeling alone. I wish Peter were here with me. This will be the second night in a row we're spending apart because "he doesn't want to get us sick".

June 22nd, 2013: This morning, Peter finally came back and within 30 seconds, he was yelling and swearing at me and then he stormed out and left the house again. I honestly don't even know what I did. I started feeling sick and I was laying down. Maybe that's why he was mad? I sometimes wonder why I married a jerk. It's too late now but I hate that he's always sick but if I even get sick for a day, he can't take over and be more helpful. I'm so angry at him right now. I've been in charge of the kids for a few days by myself and he just left when I'm not feeling well.

The last few months of our marriage, he would get sick a lot. Oh, wait, let me change that. The last few months of our marriage, he would get "sick" a lot. Yeah, I went there...

June 23rd, 2013: If I felt there was a way for me to be a stay at home mom and divorce Peter, I'd probably do it tonight. This weekend has been horrible. He is constantly speaking inappropriately in front of the kids. He told me he will keep calling the kids brats if they're acting that way and he often disrespects me. Tonight, the only reason I am not leaving is because I want to be home with my kids. Is this how my marriage is always going to be? I feel alone and discouraged. I've been so sad all weekend.

Reading old journal entries, I am reminded of how lonely I felt in my marriage. This is a fact I often forget and I'm extremely grateful for my journals. I've read through five of them in the past two days, ranging from the time we started dating to last week's entries. My journals help me remember facts I wouldn't otherwise remember, like the times my husband was in severe addict mode but I didn't understand what that even meant.

Now I understand it. Now I hear about women who endure these things in their marriages knowingly. I understand that marriage can be messy, as mine was a lot of the time.

The thing is, as much as I hear about women enduring these rollercoaster marriages, I know there are thousands more who are enduring it silently. I did that for a long time. Because I didn't understand my marriage, I didn't tell anyone how bad I was feeling and how alone I was. I knew my parents would be on his side---they had made that clear since the beginning of my marriage. My sisters would get upset about anything I would hint but they were too emotionally involved and would've gone to my parents if I would've confided in them.

So I was silent. I would cry myself to sleep. I would get horrible anxiety about things I didn't understand. I was put on medication for anxiety because I couldn't handle small tasks. I've now heard this referred to as "Drowning Woman Syndrome". What I felt was real. I felt like my life was falling apart before it physically fell apart. I felt unable to handle life because I was so confused about why I was feeling what I was feeling.

It was a lonely time. Extremely lonely time.

I hope you haven't experienced this but if you have, please know that you aren't alone---and you aren't crazy. Feeling out of control in a seemingly stable world is not you being crazy---it is you recognizing signs.

Trust yourself.

I didn't trust myself and it was horrible. I taught myself to rely on my husband and I decided I was the crazy one and that everything going wrong was because of me.

The term I use for this is "bat shit crazy". If you've felt this, you are currently nodding your head or laughing or maybe close to tears because it is a brutal feeling.

But trust it.

"Feel the fear and do it anyway."

I remember feeling guilty after our separation because I was beginning to feel less anxious. I was confused and wondered why this was happening but I get it now.

As I read those old journals, I breathe a sigh of relief that I no longer feel my heart is at risk in my home. I am ultra-terrified of single life and my future and getting in another relationship and trust---but I am not terrified of being in my home with my children because I trust the Spirit we have built into that home.

I still get angry. I still cry sometimes. But my home is my safety now. We stay home more than we ever did before and that is because I trust the four walls where I am raising my children.

Breaking Your Own Heart

Peter lost me. I can honestly sit here and tell you that he lost more out of this than I did.

He lost his wife, the woman who had loved him from the start. He lost out on so much of the memory making with our children because he no longer sees them every night. Most of all, he lost out on support for his addiction.

You see, Peter's family isn't very supportive. In fact, most of the time, they're the opposite. They have always been harder on Peter than any of his brothers. It's almost like he could do no right in their eyes---which isn't how it should be.

I was Peter's support. I stood up for him when his family wouldn't. I sided with him and he confided in me about his heartache over his family's lack of showing love. But he never confided in me the one thing that was eating him inside more than any other thing.

He never confided in me about his addiction to pornography. Instead, he left me...and he lost me.

I am no longer Peter's number one supporter. I am no longer there for him when he needs someone.

He gave that up because addiction was harder to deal with than losing the one person who tried so hard to root for him every step of the way.

I wasn't a perfect wife but I supported Peter.

Sadly, when I sit down and think about the things I lost in our divorce, the two that come to mind the most are money and sex. Yeah. About that. There is a part of me that feels like she lost out on support or love but I lost out on that much sooner than the divorce. I had lost that years ago. When I read old journal entries, that was non-existent the last few years of my marriage.

I was already alone in my marriage.

I took a roadtrip this past week and had rented a few new cd's from the library to keep me company. One of them was a Kelly Clarkson cd and as I listened to each song, I knew why I had been drawn to that particular cd.

#13: Breaking Your Own Heart
Shaking your head like it's all wrong
Before you're here you're already gone
And even with the light all around you
You're all alone in the dark

Your breaking your own heart
Taking it too far down a lonely road
You say you just want love
But when it's close enough you just let it go
The very thing you've been the most afraid of
You've been doing from the start
Breaking your own heart

It's now too late, I am not here
If only you let go of your fears

Peter may have broken my heart when he left me. I may have been a target of his ultimate rejection. But the day he called me sobbing with apologies for his 6+ year addiction and how it affected us and how he knows I was a huge loss for him, I understood whose heart had broken the most---his.

I listened to that Kelly Clarkson song close to 100 times in the past 5 days and today, I recorded my own cover of the song and wanted to share it with you.

I did change the last verse a little to fit our story because although I wish I could say I'm still here for Peter, I'm not. It isn't healthy for me to be there for him and I am healing more without him in my life because I'm learning to be my own person.

{Thank you, Alice and Kate, for teaching me that recording my own voice isn't as scary as it used to feel. It isn't an amazing voice but it's the one God gave me and I really do love using it.}

The Crazy Train

I don't even want to talk about it.

I mean, obviously I do because I'm here right now but I still don't know why I'm writing---because I don't want to talk about it.

BLAH. CURSE WORDS. ANGRY EYEBROWS.

Pan thinks I'm crazy. Whatever. I guess I already knew that. But then I found out someone in his family who I love so dearly and whom I've kept a relationship with (with his permission...I guess) thinks I'm crazy---like literally crazy, the bad kind of crazy.

I know. It's his family. They should be on his side.

But he's an effing porn addict who has made me feel crazy for seven years. I want this DONE! I want him GONE! I want to stop feeling crazy! BUT I STILL FEEL CRAZY!

Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I did overreact a lot of times when we were married. But I didn't overreact about his pornography addiction or his alcohol addiction or any other detrimental choice he has made that affected him leaving our family.

I will never condone the lies. I don't care how crazy I act. Protecting my children and myself is priority over how crazy Peter thinks I am.

And I guess other people can think I'm crazy too. It'll hurt and I don't know if I'll ever get used to it but I also can't change it.

It hurts tonight. It won't hurt forever but it hurts tonight.

Maybe I was already sensitive today. Maybe it normally wouldn't have bothered me this much. But my family acted really stupidly when I excitedly told them I have my first date set up for next Tuesday. I guess I was expecting more but no one was very excited. No one. Their reactions really sucked this time. I left feeling really stupid for thinking I could be that daughter who is super open about her life with her parents and siblings---I don't think I'll ever be that girl.

My mom begs and begs for me to open up to her but when I do, it almost never turns out the way I wanted it to. I either get weird, stern advice and caution or she becomes super overbearing. I feel like I'm finally trying but it just doesn't work the way I want it to. One of my sisters even said it seemed kind of awkward to talk about.

BLAH. CRAZY!

It's midnight. I need to park this crazy train at the station and shut my eyes and my brain for the night. Tomorrow will feel better. You guys are excited for me, right? You guys don't think I'm mean-crazy, right?