I Am More Than Just Wendy

I feel so broken and yet stronger than I have in days. I'm hurt by Peter but I also feel so much gratitude for the real person he is. Not the addict---the guy I married seven years ago. Sometimes he is still there.

Sometimes it's hard to compare the two and realize that I put a lot of my heart into loving a man who didn't reciprocate that love back to me. It's painful for me to think about.

I loved a man that preferred porn stars over my real body. I don't get that. I am reality. I am real love. I am real happiness. Pornography is not.

Peter was over today for almost four hours. Four hours. That is the longest I've been in the same room as Peter in months. I needed my garbage disposal fixed and I asked him to do it. Was I thinking clearly? I honestly don't know. I don't know if Peter was confused or happy or annoyed or excited. I really don't know.

I do know that he fixed my garbage disposal and that I paid him by buying dinner for our family. I do know that he helped put the kids to bed and we talked about his new job and how that changes our parenting plan a lot a lot a lot a lot a lot. And I'm nervous about those changes because I no longer have free weekends and Peter is now responsible for a few school days with the kids and I'm overbearing and feel like I should take charge and now I'm having to release some extra reponsibility to Peter.

Sigh...it's ok, Wendy. He can handle it. You can let go.

It's just really hard for me to let go. It's hard for me to be a working mom and a full time student and still have time and patience for my children. It's hard to think that I probably won't get married for years and years or ever because I'm just so damn busy right now. And the thing is, I want to get married again. I don't care how traumatic my marriage was---I fully believe marriage can be beautiful and wonderful. Maybe that's stupidity but it's all the hope I can muster right now.

I feel like I'm drowning in this new life. My anxiety has been at an all time high, especially today. I sat in the school pick-up line and had to talk myself through a panic attack---an attack that came on for no apparent reason. And tonight I'm still feeling that panic and fear and I don't understand why it's happening. I wasn't even thinking about anything specific when it started happening.

Eff you, anxiety. You stupid dumb piece of crap.

It's hard to be this exhausted but to feel like this is your first time to really have a break. After the kids were in bed and Peter left, I spent two hours doing homework and I craved being here. I craved writing and doing something that helps me sort through things. But it had to wait until my homework was done. And now it's 11:00pm and I'm exhausted and I still need to shower but I'm here.

I'm drowning and I'm here.

I'm here because I need this. I need this safe place to write about my thoughts and my fears. When I talk to friends or am sitting on that couch across from my counselor, I have a hard time putting my thoughts into sentences but here...here everything flows more naturally. I feel a release when I come here. I feel like I'm making sense.

My counselor and I have been working on the fact that I have different parts of me. I refer to the negative, fearful part as Wendy, mostly because when I come here, I often feel like I am her. And I refer to the loving, compassionate part of myself as my real name. There are other parts and sometimes my brain hurts from trying to remember what that all means and how it applies but I do know that I want to be me. I don't want to be Wendy.

I want the real me to merge with Wendy and teach her how to trust herself and love herself. I want this battle to be over. Wendy isn't evil but she doesn't know any better.

Wendy has an eating disorder. She grew up thinking she wasn't very important and because of that, she craves being important to other people. She craves attention because she was sandwiched between talented siblings and special needs siblings, all who seemed to get more attention than her. Wendy has so many fears, one of the biggest is being unloved. She has a hard time really trusting that people can love her because she has a hard time loving herself.

Wendy is me but I'm glad she isn't all of me. I'm glad my counselor pointed out that I am more than her. It is possible to be Wendy and to still be the compassionate, brave warrior that I often am.

And tonight, I keep repeating that over and over again in my mind because I need to hold on to that. I need to be remined that Wendy is me but that I am also the me I want to be. I am a good, loving person. Even though I think I fail a lot, I still succeed too.

Tonight as I layed with my crying daughter who was sad that her dad had to leave at bedtime, I was reminded that I am not always a horrible mother. Sometimes I am the best mother my kids can have. Tonight I was everything my daughter needed.

Tonight for a few minutes, I won a battle. And since that is more battles than I've won in days, I am going to celebrate my one small victory and try to go to bed without saying negative things about myself.