Voluntary Admission ... Number 5

I have spent the last 5 days in the psychiatric unit of Boone Hospital. I guess I didn't have it all under control like I thought. BIG surprise. More to come ... just an update. I have lots of journal entries that are going to be transferred to blog posts. Because really, who doesn't find that shit interesting. Okay, back to watching the snow fall and dreaming about my next dosage of klonipin.

Where are the Storm Clouds?

It seemed so simple ... write a check, sign a paper ... walk away and let the process begin. I have been waiting for the thunder of remorse. I have not lost my conviction or clarity, but the unknown is a slow torture. I know that what I think I want is not what I will get, nor what I will need. I simply want a normal life, but normalcy is elusive and foreign.
I no longer know what I want. I have always known that I want J, but I'm not sure what I want from him or even if I should ask for his friendship in such a critical time. We both question whether this relationship is beyond repair. So, I sit in this bed and watch the evening pass away. I have made the decision to legally end my relationship and the rest is so fuzzy. Are we really going to stay true to our vows even after the legal marriage is dissolved? I'm afraid I have devised a plan to stay connected so that the eventual split will be a slow process so to delay the intensity which so often sends me to the place where I begin to plan my escape. I have made these choices. The choice to file for divorce. The choice to try to live on my own. The choice to move on. The choice to create a new life. The choice to reinvent myself. So, I must want to move on, but why is it tonight I stared at the orange bottle, spilling out the blue tablets, with tears caught in the lenses of my glasses wondering who would take Roxy and who would have to find me. Truly, how angry will M be? Won't she understand?
If one more person comments on my super human strength and resilience I am going to prove them wrong. What choice do I have? Really? I've tried taking my life so many times that I'm even a failure at that. But, I have made momentous changes. I separated and filed for divorce in the time span of two or three weeks and have yet to feel an ounce of remorse. I know this is right. I asked for clarity and I received it. I have goals and I know that I have a purpose in this life, but everyday is such a roller coaster that I'm not sure I can hold on at times.
From the choices I have made it seems I want to live. I want more from my life. It is funny ... an anomaly of sorts ... I acted in logic and thoughtfulness instead of emotion and trauma. The sudden shift makes me want to believe that there is something out there that cares. Maybe it is just my own evolution ... my own will power, but it rose so quickly, and I am so sure, I cannot believe that this is of my own doing ... it cannot be.
J and I met Tuesday and I can barely remember what I said. I knew I would fuck it up. His appearance was but a ghost of how I remember him. His hair was so short, his eyes sunken in so far, his shoulders so narrow. I tried to ease into the news, but before I knew it I slowly and softly spoke the words. He reacted just as I predicted - with restriction and the look he assumes when you know he is trying to wrestle whatever emotion is inside. It is always the emotion that I wonder ... is is joy? is it pain? is it hate? As the conversation progressed I explained my desire to stay within our vows, just live separate lives for a while until he can do the work he needs to do. As usual, this man and I were on the same page. He needs to disconnect from his mother and I. He needs to rebuild his life on his own without our help. That was one motivating factor for my initiation of the divorce ... maybe he would realize his need for maturity and take on his sobriety by himself. We left with hugs and a tender kiss on the lips and multiple "I love you" statements. Somehow, that didn't set me at ease. I am scared what he has thought the past couple of days.
My greatest fear is based in my selfish need for acceptance ... I do not want this to end at the blade of an axe. If it does end, I want it to end like a small leak - slow, but eventual.
I fantasize about the possibilities ... studying abroad. Meeting new people. Having a drink after work without the weight of guilt. When things were good with us they were great. An enviable relationship. His clothes are still in the closet. There are even a few dirty dishes in the sink from his short stay while I was on vacation (yes, I do the dishes that often).
Uncertainty can be the demise of a codependent ... yet it seems it is our life's mission to control it.

Mail Call

Insert any name you think begins with an A and J, cause it makes me feel okay doing this when I think there is some sort of anonymity

A***********,

It must be hell living with me the past year. I've put you through more than almost anyone could handle. I'm so ashamed of myself and I'm terrified I'll never be able to make up for the wrong I've done or the pain I've caused. My apologies just don't mean much anymore - but I had to write and say something. I want our life back but I'm not even sure I know where to begin. We had such great dreams and hopes - such a bright future - and I've all but shattered them all. I was happy with our marriage with the direction we were headed but I still hated me. Everytime you tell me you love me my stomach drops and it hurts like hell because I'm reminded of how I just can't love myself and how you love me in spite of me. These 3 [6 total] years of our life together have been the best and the worst I've known. I've known great joy and great pain. I've become a monster - so different from the man you married. So I offer a humble apology - when I owe you so much more. I hope we can talk again. I love you

your Husband,
J.************

We haven't spoken in a week and the last time we spoke while he was sober was over two weeks ago. The treatment center will allow me to call him Thursday.
I have a 4:00 appointment with the lawyer tomorrow afternoon.

51% of Women Are Now Living Without A Spouse

51% plus one, that is. Delayed gratification is a simple concept, yet a tedious and nearly impossible task. I have asked for clarity and I'm afraid that I have it now. My left hand has lost the white ring of flesh where my rings once rested. I sleep in the middle of the bed now. I lost the awareness of time when he usually calls me at work. There are so many things that have already slipped away.
I've developed enough tolerance to the sour words that I can speak them. It is in my own disappointment that everyone has responded with such relief. If just one person tried to convince me this is not what I should do, I would probably take back everything I said.
I suppose it is a post mark for adulthood with this decision. I am finally disconnecting myself from the deterministic hold that shackles my will.

I'm Everything But Sorry.

Anyone that read this blog before has probably given up by now. I didn't drop off of the face of the earth, rather I fell into the vacuum I allowed my life to become. So much has happened, yet it is the same story over and over again.
In summary, things have changed. I became jaded. I became calloused. I lost perspective.
So, I made a geographical change to see M. I found a cheap ticket two weeks ago and last Friday I was driving to the airport. My mission was clear: get out of my skin - completely. No one can distract me quite like M. The partying was great. It has been years since I've been able to take a drink and not feel guilty. I was able to act a fool and not give a damn ... really I was a totally different person. Once in a while I would worry the other people we were partying with were getting a view of me that I would eventually despise, but when it came down to it I needed to feel something other than exhausted - their opinion didn't matter. I don't regret anything, in fact, I'm glad I was able to let go for once in my adult life and just have a good time.
No one knew my story. No one cared. Yet, one of the most important people in my life was there whenever I had some random obsessive thought ... and then she handed me a drink (just kidding ... sort of).
I woke to a call from my land lord on Tuesday morning. J left rehab and continued his streak of destruction. A couple of hours full of phone calls, sporadic crying, and the familiar feeling of sickness and then it was somewhat resolved and I let it all fall away. I didn't obsess or ruin the remaining time. Weird. For once, I felt the elusive creature that is loving detachment. I was compassionate when his cries filled the speaker of my phone, but I left the pain when I ended the call. So this is freedom. For once in my fucking life I felt like some one's drug use wasn't ruling the speed and velocity of my roller coaster. This roller coaster is about to change.