I guess that last email from him provided the inspiration needed to clean out the garage a bit. Every so often I'll tidy things up and toss things out in the garage but mere weeks later what remains never fails to explode, leaving memorabilia of a marriage as shrapnel. After deciding that I definitely should toss the candle holder that he made in high school into the donation bag at the last minute it ended up being set aside to consider later. It's not just memories of our marriage left behind, it's memories of our respective childhoods.
I remember using that candle stick in his room that was in the basement of his mother's home. We spent countless hours together in that room and when things became too strained at my house I moved in to his room. Was that the first time that he rescued me? No... we had known each other too long by then, but it's the memory that stands out now. When we were teenagers I viewed him as so safe and gentle; I was sure that he would never hurt me the way my mother had been treated by her husbands. It was like striking gold and I clung to him - he was my ticket to a secure lifestyle. I believed that we would live our entire lives together and even if we divorced one day it was inconceivable that we would not have regular contact. He was my best friend. I loved him and believed in him. I was 22 when we married.
Hindsight can hurt so much sometimes.
Considering the situations I lived in while a minor, it's clear why a marriage to such a private person was not only acceptable but something to be proud of. Years ticked by and our marriage lasted longer than some of our parents marriages (they were all married quite a few times). We were going to make recent family tree history by growing old together. Frequently others would say they wanted a relationship like we had.
Somewhere along the way things started to change and it was so gradual that I guess neither one of us noticed how wrong things were becoming. He became more secretive; I started to act erratically and loneliness and jealously towards the women he would spend so much alone time with led to huge crying spells. He would be able to explain everything and over time I became the emotional and unpredictable one. I needed to be cared for; he wanted to "fix" me.
He later said that he could never make me happy, that it was impossible for him to fix me. And he was right, but not because I was beyond repair.
His email included a reminder that I got everything - the house, furniture, the weird/cool household maintenance tools that he deemed unimportant enough to leave behind: rakes, a few screwdrivers, box cutter, socket thingies, but where is the part they snap into?
I did end up with all of these items but only because he left them/us behind. While he was moving out, when asked about what he wanted to take, my pummeled heart received another punch when he didn't want much. It was like he wanted no memories of the "us" portion of his life to follow him on to greener pastures. Why is he now saying between the lines that I'm ungrateful for making use of the objects he rejected? That's much easier to answer than "how is it possible that we matured into our 30's in such different directions?"
Sifting through the garage odds and ends was unfortunately short lived. Where health is concerned, you will not believe the series of events during my blogging hiatus but it is indeed all true.
3 weeks ago a day long fever evolved into conjunctivitis in both eyes, laryngitis for 5 days and a round of antibiotics (I was negative for strep at this time). Instead of getting better my throat became even more sore. Today my health care provider diagnosed a viral infection AND a strep infection. Already this round of antibiotics is helping. Since I was sent home from work until 24 hours of antibiotics were completed and I don't feel that bad besides a cough and raw throat, it seemed like a great time to tidy the garage. I kid you not after about 30 minutes I tripped over an extension cord (so essentially nothing) and landed hard on my knee onto the concrete floor. It didn't swell up too bad (I say this even though almost all of the definition of my knee is gone, despite hours of ice and ibuprofen) so I'm waiting before seeing a doctor but walking is painful and since I'm in cootie isolation SnuggleBunny can't come over to help me.
My blogging hiatus was intended to be all about action and experiences and while I have had some great times, the Universe seems to want me to be still. So here I am, reluctantly acquiescing to a period of rest. It's frustrating but my spirits are oddly good! Things are not going as planned, I have been in minor pain and tired for 3 weeks, I've replaced contact lenses, mascara, and toothbrushes, bought new glasses (easing the insult of pink eye by replacing glasses that were a nearly decade old), I may have messed up my knee (cross your fingers that it will just be a bad bruise), I have missed work, I am adjusting to a higher dose of wel.bu.trin. But also I'm not sinking into depression or becoming engulfed with anger when I think about how difficult my husband is being. He is simply behaving as he often did by ignoring me until responding in a demeaning manner and defending himself, but instead of following the habit of negative reaction I think "this is how he is, why would I expect anything else?"
I wish he could really hear me but it is impossible. Anyway, that's all for tonight.