One Year of Pain

Yesterday was my one year anniversary of the day Peter left me.

I cried a few times yesterday. I got so FREAKING angry a few times. I grieved my past life and my new life.

I didn't know how yesterday would hit but it hit like a ton of bricks. It felt like I was reliving that very day, a year ago. I kept replaying moments and feeling anxiety and wondering how the hell I am still standing after such a horrible experience.

I reached out a lot yesterday. I reached out to WoPA friends, my friends who were there on d-day, and I even reached out to my parents who are on a cruise right now. Everyone reached back with loving words and validation. Even people I didn't reach out to were sending me texts and emails, reminding me that I am strong and that I can get through this really hard thing.

Yesterday was hard.

Today was even harder.

This morning, I called Peter to ask him a question and he didn't answer. No big deal. He does that a lot.
But then he texted me almost immediately and said, "Can't talk. What's up?" and to any normal person, that text wouldn't have been a big deal. But in my story, that text is an extremely triggering text to receive.

Because it is almost the exact same thing Peter texted me the day I called to check on him at work. It was the very last text he sent before our phone conversation about the lies and the secrets---the very conversation where he told me he no longer cared about me. It was the last text I ever received before my husband left me.

I didn't text him back. In fact, I threw my phone across the car and tried to focus on something else the entire drive to the gym. But it didn't work.

All day, that text has been running through my mind.

Just breathe, Wendy. Just breathe.

I knew I wanted to come on here tonight and talk about those triggering moments. I knew I wanted to remember how I felt this morning. But as soon as I started to type, I decided it would be a good idea to link back to my d-day post.

And when I linked to it, I decided to read the post.

And when I read the post, I started breathing heavily and my heart was pounding and I started to sweat. I was frozen. I was frozen and my chest was physically hurting and I couldn't move out of my chair.

That day was real. There is no escaping the painful memories of that day.

I panicked. I knew I was having an anxiety attack but I've never been frozen like that. I wrote on a message board and reached out to some loving friends and started receiving message after message of comfort. I also received messages telling me things my brain couldn't even think of.
Wendy, have you asked anyone for a blessing? Can I call the temple and put your name on the prayer roll? Do you have Xanax in your house?
One by one, I did the things I was being told. The Xanax started to kick in and I called a friend sobbing, asking if her husband was available to give me a blessing.

Within minutes, he was in my home and we were talking about what had happened.

And then I received one of the most powerful blessings I have ever received.

I had recently lost hope in a few things and in that blessing, those things were promised to me. And I felt my Savior comforting me, telling me it is ok to break down and cry and be worried. It's ok to feel scared and need to reach out to others. It doesn't make me a weak person.

It just makes me a person.

There have been so many lonely nights were I sobbed and screamed and panicked late into the night. I'm glad tonight wasn't one of those. I am grateful for people in my life who can help me get through some of the roughest shit I've ever, ever had to deal with.

Tonight I am broken but I am still alive. Tonight I know that with my Savior by my side, I can handle nights like tonight.

I am going to fight. I am going to get through this hell. And someday, I am going to get remarried and feel real love. I don't doubt any of that tonight.

The triggers aren't over. They will keep happening. But I have hope that when they come, I will be surrounded with the love of my friends and family and the love of my Savior.

One year down, eternity to go.

I can do hard things.

Hope

I find myself hearing story after story of broken marriages and promises and hearts, of broken dreams and broken lives. It's hard to be in a situation where you understand the hell of divorce and can relate to other stories because you end up hearing a lot of them.

And you do understand them. You just don't want to understand. Because hearing these stories is devastating. It reminds you that life is full of hellish times and sorrowful trials. It reminds you that you cannot change everyone or believe that the world is going to magically get better.

Pornography is everywhere. Infidelity is more common. Homes are breaking every day.

Hope is lost on me a lot of the time because the world is a sad place right now. I hear about the way husbands treat wives and I ache for the lives that a lot of people live silently. 

I'm sad for me. I'm sad for you. 

I think about the stress of raising my children in a world full of broken people and I wonder what that will look like. I wonder if statistics will just become a part of our lives. I wonder if my children will have a hard time keeping commitments because their parents have broken an extremely important commitment to each other. 

They are going to grow up thinking this is normal. They are going to grow up, knowing how to navigate through two homes, two separate lives, two relationships with two people they love very much. And they are going to be among a wide variety of children who are navigating through the same things.

I just want to have hope that life isn't just one big freaking mess. I want to have hope that men are good and aren't just bastards who take take take and have a hard time giving. I'm not trying to be a man hater...it just so happens that I'll have to fight the hatred I've been programmed to feel because of my individual situation. 

I'm not bitter toward my life. I'm just sad. Because this is nothing like the life I imagined I would have. This life is full of more heartache than I would've ever preferred. I cringe at the thought of knowing I'd come down to earth to live through these trials. That must've been a hard decision. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was an easy decision because I knew how sweet the end result would be. 

Just maybe.

I hope the ending is sweet. I hope I get to have days full of laughter and security and unfailing love. 

Unfailing love. I wonder what that would even feel like. I hope the day comes when I'll be able to experience that. 

And in the meantime, I hope the millions of broken hearts in the world can feel of God's love so none of us have to go through this hell all alone. 

Angry Words

In counseling on Tuesday, I kept saying the made up word EFFING and after a while, my counselor asked, "Wendy, do you ever just say the real F word?"

And it got me thinking because the real F word is always in my mind. I'm not kidding. Always. When I get angry or something happens, I think it every time. This never used to happen but since I'm now an angry person, it does.

So this week, I released the F word into my journal a few times. I wrote it and felt the power behind it even though it's just a stupid word. I felt like it finally got my point across of how ugly this all feels. No other word can quite describe how messy this all is for me. No other word has been able to describe my pain and anger.

It sounds kind of weird. It's just a word. But because it is a word I used to never ever say, it holds an ugly power and helps me process the way I'm feeling.

The physical letter I wrote Peter the other day was full of language and hatred and I was writing it as a step toward my healing. I knew I was going to burn it. I scribbled almost illegibly through two sheets of paper and when I was done, I read it to myself out loud.

And then I burned it. I took a lighter and set it on the concrete outside and I watched it go up in flames until all that was left were a few black ashes.

I came inside and damnit, I was still angry. I was hoping that magical letter would just erase my anger but it didn't. It couldn't.

I punched my pillow over and over and yelled out some of the ugly feelings I've been feeling lately and then I crashed in my bed, sweaty and tired from the physical and emotional torment.

So here's the thing, ladies and gents, I woke up a little less angry the next day. I woke up a little less distressed and hopeless.

Physically proclaiming my anger wasn't a fix-it-all but it helped me process through a few of the hundred angry feelings I'm feeling. It helped me to know what to scribble in my journal because often times, I don't even know where my anger is coming from or what I should write down. But that night, I knew it. I knew there were some really painful things I haven't faced regarding how our divorce happened.

There is so much trauma that came with being the parent who had to endure the nightmares and the puffy eyes and the million questions. I did it alone. Not only was I forced into a new reality where I was alone in my marriage, I was parenting children through some pretty significant trials and I did it alone.

And although I can happily report that my children are doing much better these days, I am still traumatized from those first few months of our separation because Peter was never man enough to sit down with our children and explain everything together. He left me to pick up the pieces of their shattered worlds. They blamed me. They physically lashed out at me. They called me hurtful names and begged to see their dad. And because they couldn't always see him, I was the bad guy for a while. Because they didn't understand the choices that were made or how divorce works, they thought I was keeping them from someone whom they love very much.


I won't mask my anger any longer because in a year, I don't want to be doing this all over again. So today I will stay angry at him and at my parents and I will continue to process these feelings so that someday, I can allow the atonement to take this pain away from me. I feel so strongly tonight that there will be a day where that happens.

Dear Peter Pan

Dear Peter Pan,
I wrote you a letter last night and it was painful to put into words how I really feel about you at this moment. Because I don't love you and I feel like there is a hole in my heart where I used to. It's empty and hardened and I am not sure it will ever be able to open up to someone again.

I feel it is important to write you and tell you some of the things I have been feeling since you've returned from your summer job.

I am angry. I see you and my chest tightens and my eyebrows furrow. I have realized that I resent you for deserting your children for an entire summer to go find yourself. And maybe it's selfish but this doesn't have as much to do with the kids as it has to do with me. I don't have the luxury nor do I want the luxury of leaving my children for an entire summer to go figure my shit out. Parenthood just doesn't work that way.

This summer, I spent countless hours awake at night just to get some time to myself because my days were spent caring for our children and babysitting other children to pay our bills. I didn't get to take time where I could reflect on my life without the worry of children. And I'm realizing this resentment goes beyond just this summer because there has never really been a time where I could reflect on this mess of a life we've made without factoring in the worries I have for our children.

When you left me, you broke them and you weren't there to pick up the pieces. Those hours upon hours of comforting our sensitive daughter while she cried in her bed or raged about her unfair life were all spent with me. I have helped her find security in her very insecure world. I was there when she yelled at me and blamed me for kicking her daddy out of our house. I was there when she begged and pleaded with me to get remarried soon so she would have a daddy again. I was there when her friends asked why her daddy no longer lived in our home and she burst into tears because IT JUST ISNT FAIR THAT THEIR DADDIES GET TO COME HOME EVERY NIGHT.

Divorce has shredded our hearts. We are piecing them back together but it isn't easy. And the hurt I have felt over your decisions and how you treat me now is a hurt I never could have imagined.

You have betrayed me in the deepest way possible. I wasn't first in your life. And now that we have been living life separately for a year, I can see that you are baffled that we can't just be friends. I can see that it doesn't make sense to you why I get angry and hurt so easily. I can see that you don't understand why I act like you know nothing about our children---because you chose a life that takes you away from their lives and you aren't there for them when you should be.

I loved you once upon a time. I gave you my heart. And now you are just the father of my children. Now you are your own person and you can feel negatively about marriage or women or whatever you'd like and there is nothing I can do to change your mind.

But I hope someday you take responsibility for your actions and understand that marriage can be a beautiful thing. Our marriage could've been a beautiful thing. It didn't have to end. We could've been warriors together but instead, I am now my own kind of warrior. And because I do it alone, I will fight for our children and for myself so that we can make this hell work.

We will make it work without you. I just hope you can learn from your decisions and become stronger on your own too. I pray you learn to fight for the things you are passionate about instead of giving up when things get hard. I pray you learn that your children have broken hearts and they need a dad who will be there when they need a shoulder to cry on. I pray you learn that I loved you for you and I would've fought for you if you would've given me the chance.

I pray you can someday know that there IS a God and that He loves you. He loves you regardless of your actions. He loves you for you, unconditionally. I pray there is a day where you let Him into your life because I know how incredible you can be if you would just let Him love you.

I am angry and sad that things ended. I hate the permanence of your decisions but someday I am going to be a stronger Wendy. Someday I am going to believe in the person my God intended me to be.

I hope you can learn to do the same.

Sincerely,
Wendy

Small Things

Let's talk.

I am seeing a therapist tomorrow.

FOR REALS.

Three months ago, when my financial situation caused a sudden halt in my counseling services, I thought I could do it. I'm strong enough to handle this life and work through my grief and figure out my triggers, right?

I don't think I've ever given my therapists enough credit because I really thought I was doing most of it on my own anyway. I didn't think my therapists were helping enough. I was the one doing the work, right? I'm the one who has to live this life every single day and work through my thoughts and feelings.

But I was wrong. They were helping.

Yes, I do the work. But for some reason, my brain just isn't working properly---and that isn't even a joke.

Sunday was a hard day. I know, do I say that enough!?! Our church lesson was on eternal marriage and I cried---as in, I CRIED IN FRONT OF PEOPLE. If that isn't a sign that I am unstable, I don't know what is. I have just become emotionally hardened and it takes a lot for me to cry. Anyway, so I was crying and my heart was hurting because the lesson hit so close to so much of my pain.

I lost my forever. I couldn't change so many things about my story and most days, all I want to do is change my story. All I want is for my husband to love me for me, to not take me for granted, to not struggle with a nasty addiction that caused him to make some pretty horrible life decisions.

I want to change the fact that he tells people I am crazy and that I took everything he had. Because I didn't leave him. Everything he says is a lie! He portrays me in a way that makes me wonder if he ever could have loved me.

Anyway, therapist! Tomorrow! Pray for me that it goes well. I am seeing the counselor that I have trusted more of my story with than any other person on this earth. I am going back to see the counselor that I made myself stop seeing when my eating disorder was the worst it has ever been. I know that is hard for a lot of my friends to understand. But I feel like it's right for this time and I guess we'll find out tomorrow.

This rambling will have to stop for now because I am trying really hard to do small things in a great way and one of my goals has been to spend more time with my kids--and so far, success!

And little successes are the very things keeping me going. Those and the occasional flowers or visits from friends.

YOU GUYS ARE ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! Every comment on my blog and thoughtful text and message you've sent has been a great thing to keep me smiling on the hardest of hard days.

I love you, friends. I really, really do.

Triggers

My story fits in nowhere, which kind of makes it fit in everywhere.

That's logical, right?

I don't like so many things about my story tonight. I don't like that triggers have started in places there were no triggers before.

What the hell? It's been a year. That isn't fair!

I got through the aftermath of Pan leaving me so quickly...but I didn't get through it at all. Like at all.

I was used to being single right away...but I'm still not used to being single at all.

It was a plague that started within the tiniest part of my being and eventually consumed me.

It consumed me, friends. It got to the point where I had to physically stop myself from driving to the store on my weekend without kids to buy alcohol. And although I did that very good thing that one time {last week}, I am not healthier now than I was then.

Because all I want to do is buy alcohol on my weekend without kids next week. And my brain says, "It's no big deal. It's one time. And for a few hours, you will not feel the things you are feeling and that will be wonderful." It would be wonderful. For a few hours, it would be wonderful. But the aftermath would be horrible. I already know that.

I can't become an addict like him. I am already wrapped up in my own world of addiction. I cannot use the same supplements he used to rid myself of pain. I just cannot.

But I also cannot keep living without healing. I cannot walk around throughout the day like everything is A-OK and expect that to heal me. It won't heal me!

What will heal me? God? A therapist? Anti-depressants?

The triggers have gotten to a point where I can't shave my legs without feeling some sort of anxiety. Because holy shit, I DIDN'T SHAVE MY LEGS ENOUGH AS A MARRIED WOMAN AND PETER ALWAYS, ALWAYS ASKED ME TO DO A BETTER JOB WITH PERSONAL HYGIENE. And that makes me part of the problem. That makes me the very reason Peter left and looked at pornography and didn't love me anymore.

I should've listened. Not respecting his simple request of shaving my damn legs is part of the reason that I am now a single woman. It has to be. Even if it wasn't the actual act of shaving my legs, the fact that I didn't respect Peter enough to do something that was NOT A HUGE DEAL makes me selfish.

But that only seems logical in my head---not in my heart. Because my heart says I tried and that I am a good person and that I am strong. My head says none of those things.

I kind of feel like vomiting but that is probably impossible since I haven't eaten in a long time. And not making-myself-throw-up-vomiting but holy-hell-my-stomach-is-in-knots-vomiting.

I hate coming on here and complaining. I want to come here and tell you how awesome things are. And the truth is, awesome stuff is still mixed in my life. It isn't all bad. It isn't all triggery and failure and crying. I've been having fun with my kids and laughter with friends but I still have a lot of healing to do.

There is so much that is still one big mess. And I'm sorry if everything seems so negative on my blog. I am genuinely sorry. This isn't me. I know I keep saying that but it isn't. I am a laugher, a smiler, and a helper. I know I am those things.

I know I used to be those things.

Am I still those things? Am I ever going to be the girl I thought I was?

Abort! Abort! {Round 2}

A few months ago, I wrote this post about my relationship with my parents and how difficult it was.

 

I didn't trust them. I didn't feel like they were on my side.

 

And we are back there.

 

WHY ARE WE BACK THERE?!!

 

Pan moving back caused a lot of anxiety for me and with that came a hell of a lot of anger. I have been angry with him and he has been angry with me. We communicate just about as well as two deaf/blind zebras would communicate.

 

And when I'm angry and not dealing with life well, my frustration bleeds into my other relationships. More specifically, I kinda sorta have a hard time being around my parents. Because they just irk me. And when my dad knows I'm frustrated with him and want space, he does stupid crap like purposefully step on my toes or getting in my face or trying to tickle me---as if I am a 5 year old and I'll magically begin to smile.

 

Sorry, dad, it just makes me more angry.

 

Also, my mom was acting totally dumb on Sunday. After her not seeing Pan for a few months because, well, HE MOVED AWAY, he dropped the kids off to me when I happened to be at my parents' house. And my mother, oh my mother and her awkwardness and her stupid way of showing me she still cares and wants Peter as her son-in-law---she came to the front door and quietly asked me if she could give Peter a hug. And I said no, as if I'm in charge of her decisions. And as soon as she saw my brother-in-law go in for a hug, she waltzed up to Peter and hugged him tightly. And I just felt stupid and angry and wondered why in the hell she asked me in the first place?! I don't get her.

I don't get how easy it is for them to forgive and forget some of the really shitty decisions he has made that have affected THEIR DAUGHTER. Shouldn't they be overprotective of me?! I don't want them to punch him in the face or say ugly things about him but do they have to act all stupid and awkwardly lovey when he comes around?! DO THEY?!

 

I guess they do... 

 

And because I was already angry and feeling a slight abandonment ALL OVER AGAIN from my parents, tonight was just plain hard.

 

Tonight was father's/grandfather's blessings at my parents' house because I have no husband and Pan isn't an active member of our church. We believe in receiving a blessing before the school year starts to help out with any fears or trials we might be facing. I had asked my dad if he would do this for myself and my children a few days ago and he was happy to do so. But tonight, I was just so angry because my mom had made a comment about the way I was acting and my dad had made a comment about my parenting and EVERYTHING FELT SUCKY.

 

It was as if Satan was standing next to me, laughing his stupid little head off. Because why else would things be so horrible right before we were going to receive these incredibly special blessings?!

 

Damn you, Satan.

 

I cried a little during my daughter's blessing. That is my second time crying in the last 24 hours---usually a sign that I'm FALLING APART. But during my own blessing, my son was making funny noises and I was agitated and I had a hard time listening and feeling anything but my hard, angry heart.

 

Awesome. Fuh-reek-ing-ahhhhh-summm.

 

So where do I go from here? Where does my recovery stand? Where do my relationships stand? Where do I stand?

 

I have no answers. Not even a single one.

I have no answers and no safety net and a whole lot of shame and anger.

 

I have a lot of anger, a lot of resentment, and a failing relationship with people I need in my life.

I know I need my parents. I know they mean well most of the time. I also know they often suck at supporting me and making me feel like I am as equal as their other super awesome children.

 

But seriously, WHY IS EVERYONE ELSE PERFECT?!

I have no knowledge of any of my sisters going through big trials. Dead serious. And maybe that's just because they aren't open about it but could someone try and throw me a compassion bone or something?! Because I feel like they all live out their drama through me and then after calling me on the phone and me unloading my child support/divorce crap to them, they can hang up and carry on with their otherwise normal lives.

 

And I'm done with it! I'm done with being the drama they feed off of. This isn't just drama. It is TRAUMA and BETRAYAL and HEARTACHE.

It isn't some badly performed soap opera or a movie with a guaranteed happy ending. IT IS MY LIFE.

 

This is my life. As hard as that is to admit sometimes, everything I talk about here is my current life. I live these things every day. I feel these fears every day.

 

And tonight, I'm just worn out and angry and I want to be better.

 

Because this isn't me.

 

And I want to find me.

Alone

Tonight I am alone. I am here in my house with no one else; no kids, no friends, and no spouse. I feel an emptiness that I don't experience very often because quite honestly, my friends have been incredible 'Wendy Builders'. They do more than their share to build me up.

But as it is, tonight I am alone.

Most of my friends are on date nights. As I see the pictures on Facebook, my heart hurts a little because I don't have that. I don't know if I'll ever have that again. And I can't expect my friends to drop their husbands for me. That isn't fair.

I have no one tonight. There is no one I can call to come over and laugh with me. I need to get used to that but tonight it hurts. Tonight it feels so incredibly painful. I miss the really good parts of marriage. There were times when I had that. There were times when I didn't feel alone. I'm thankful so many of my friends are able to experience that---it just gets hard for me because I don't really have many single friends. All of my close friends are married. 

I hate that I'm alone. I've always hated being alone. I wish it was easy for me to relax when my kids are gone but it's hard to have a quiet house and have no plans. It's hard to feel like an outcast among some of the people I am closest to.

Things with Peter have just gotten progressively worse the past few days. If you want to know the truth of my inner thoughts, I've considered reverting to my alcohol days because I want to erase the pain I feel. I hate being angry with Pan but I am. I can't stand him. And although I shouldn't have to deal with him often, I do. We have kids. They need both of us. We are supposed to communicate.

But communicating is the opposite of what we are doing. Peter has mixed up pick-up times on three different occasions this week and then when I wasn't home or we weren't ready for him, he got angry with me. I know I told him the right times but he sure as hell believes that I am crazy and I get reprimanded because of the mistakes that I didnt actually make.

I just hate this phase of life right now. I hate the pain I've been feeling. I hate being lonely. I hate my anger. I hate that I'm even considering making stupid decisions because what the hell? These are the types of things Peter does to deal with stuff---and I don't want to be like Peter.

I want to follow the guidelines of my church that I believe so strongly in. I want to be a good example for my kids and keep my brain healthy so that I can take care of them. I want to be the best me---not revert to a worse me than ever before. That is NOT the goal right now.

But I'm drowning. Nothing is saving me right now.  Nothing has worked to get me out of this funk I've been in since Peter's return.

Did this really all happen just because Peter returned? Does he really have that much power over me? Ick. I hate the thought of that.

Apparently, I hate a lot of things tonight.

Mostly, among these jumbled up words, I just feel like saying how much I want to give up. I feel so hopeless toward recovery and feeling better about myself. I hate my eating disorder---but when I am this low, it is the only thing that I turn to. I don't like admitting that but it's the truth and I want this blog to be full of truths.

Tonight I am lonely and there's not much anyone can do. I don't need much, really. I just need to sit in this low spot for a while and hope that someday I'll be strong enough to pull myself out of it. I just need to get to a point where I'm closer to succeeding than I am to giving up. And if I never get there, I guess there is always the hope that this life isn't the end and my Heavenly Father will be there to wrap me in His arms when I've done all I could do.

Will there be a day where I don't feel like giving up as much as I do right now? Will there be a day when the encouraging words I hear from others actually sticks and I actually believe it? Because I never do. I never trust that what they're saying really, truly applies to me. That kind of advice is for strong, brave warriors. I am not that. I am nothing. I am a drowning woman who was left by the one person who should've stuck by her side. I wasn't good enough for seven whole years. I wasn't appreciated. I wasn't beautiful enough. I wasn't anything enough.

I don't think I'll ever be enough.