I think I have almost come to the end. Blogging. There’s nothing new to say, and I have moved no further towards healing than I was before I started.
In these past five and a half years, I have ridden the roller coaster. At first, for the first year or two, although I never wanted to get on the ride, I mostly felt kinda positive about it. I thought our “special bond,” our “amazing love,” (choke, gag) would get us through this mess. We seemed to be doing well. He “got it.” He was really, really, really sorry, really, really, really embarrassed, really, really, really open to fixing what he broke. He was voluntarily transparent, he tried so hard to make me feel safe and loved again. He attended all counselling I suggested, he even read – well, a bit – but more than many. He listened, he held me, he “understood.”
But, am I healed? Am I anywhere near the feisty, bright, “sparkly” redhaired go-get-’em girl I was before this crap?
Nope. Not even close.
Until about a year ago, I was sure time would heal. If I could see him live more authentically, if I could plan MY future a little more than I had, if I could get my children happily launched in life, I would be okay again.
Why am I not better? Is this the real Paula? A person incapable of making herself happy?
Maybe. Interesting, because I thought not until this crap. I am not as strong, as resilient as I had been in the past, as the person I imagined myself to be.
This journey he crashed-started us on meant we would have both learned so much, and yes, he has.
I seem to have learned “miserable.”
I don’t think I have learned much more than that there are a lot more selfish people in the world than even I had accounted for. And some of them look just like you and I! People can be shits because they have no empathy/feel lost or entitled. But “good” people don’t. They have this little inner voice that says, “hell, that looks like fun/a distraction/like I could enjoy that” but then it is closely followed by, “hmm, yeah, right, that will solve ALL my problems, huh? You idiot!” And just like that, we don’t do the selfish/dangerous/maybe-fun-but-probably-dangerous act. All the other “stuff” we talked about in therapy, read in books, blogs, etc, none of it is new to me. I already knew cheating fucks people’s lives. I admit I thought you recovered though. Something I still haven’t managed, in fact I feel worse now than I did at any time in the first four years. And just typing that has formed this huge lump in my throat, and the tears are bloody well falling again.
So thank you all of my dear friends here who have sympathised, shared, loved, cried and tried to jolly me along. I have appreciated you so much, and I doubt I am gone, gone. But the posts are now (maybe always were!) monotonous, negative, and of no use to either me, nor any of you. So, while it is not my job to blow smoke up your arse, the opposite sure is a real drag. I think I will draw it mostly to a close. I will still be lurking about, commenting if I can’t keep my mouth shut, and definitely reading about your journeys.
I’ll take the below advice.
PS, I have my semester’s provisional results in. I need to skite madly. This lonely life means I have no one to share with. This year I got 5 A+s and an A. (Bloody Anthropological Media – ruined my perfect record ;-)!) So, I know I can do other stuff, to “achieve” (I knew this before the affair, before the university re-start) but it doesn’t feed my soul like my life with Roger did, like the pedigree herd I bred, like the gorgeous family we created.
See ya – for now at least xxx.