Anniversary

Soundtrack

A little over a year ago, I found myself in hysterical tears on the steps of a church in Streeterville, Chicago.

It was a month into Spouse’s residency and I had never felt so alone in my life. I was in a new city, trying to figure out the basics and Spouse was married to the hospital. We had intended to go grocery shopping together, but as was so common, he was asleep before 8 PM and I was left to go it out alone.

Before leaving, before he fell asleep, I had expressed a need for some emotional reassurance, some closeness and words or actions of solidarity. He couldn’t give them to me. I know he wanted to. And that fact made it harder and more painful. So I got out the grocery cart, took it down the elevator and began the 15 minute walk to the store as he fell asleep and began to snore in our new, king sized bed.

While I walked, I called my big brother, J. J has always been there for me, fully and without judgment. This is when I fell apart. Somewhere en route I had to stop because I was crying so hard. I tucked up into the church steps, hoping darkness would conceal me a little bit on the busy streets. At least three people stopped to be sure I was OK. Including the doorman from across the street, who brought me tissues. I suppose being on a church’s steps made it seem like a very different kind of breakdown.

I thought of this tonight as I walked a similar route, this time headed back to the el after my weekly therapy session. You see, tomorrow is Spouse and my 5th wedding anniversary. Or, I guess it would be. Do you stop counting after you decide the marriage is over?

I cried, albeit not as hysterically as a year ago, all the way home. There is actually something really beautiful about walking around the city, listening to music, and crying. Now I’m sitting on my front porch, still teary eyes, but calmer.

When I tell people our marriage is over, they often ask if I will stay in Chicago. Outwardly, there is nothing keeping me here. I work remotely, after all. I could do my job from anywhere in the US and none of my family or closest friends are here.

But the truth is, I have built a life here. In only a short time and under relatively traumatic circumstances, I have grown into this city. I have an incredible roommate, a growing group of girlfriends and a kooky little dog. I have had more new experiences in the last year than I thought I even wanted. I have had tastes of love, companionship, friendship and great sex with men and women across the north side and am fostering the beginnings of more. I know how to live in this city. I can get around and enjoy myself and I know there are opportunities for me to do anything I want here. And I’m really proud of that.

Last year, our anniversary fell on the night before residency began. We got dressed up and ate at a nearby Italian joint, taking a moment to pause about getting here and what beginning this life would mean. At that moment, we still had a fair amount of blind hope, firm denial and the only thing still true this year: a lot of love for each other.

This is not how I expected to spend my fifth anniversary. But, it’s a lovely night. A warm wind is pulling my hair across my face and the tears are gently rolling now. Last year these tears were futile and frustrated, broken and tragic. This year, the tears are leading me somewhere.

 

You didn’t hold up your end of the bargain

I ended up at Spouse’s last night, crying on the ground. I told him about Filmmaker and how I had conflated them and as I sobbed I told him I was angry that he hadn’t held up his end of our marital bargain.

So after I collapsed to the ground after having told him I’m angry that he wasn’t the partner he had promised to be, he got me a xanax, a blanket and sat down and held my head in his lap. I quietly sobbed while he stroked my hair and said, “there, there, it’s going to be OK”.

I needed that. I didn’t need a conversation at that moment, I just needed to be heard and held. I fell asleep easily and soundly next to him on the other side of our gigantic king sized bed and for once, he actually put on his goddam nose strips to keep the snoring down.

 

 

 

 

I’m giving myself a pass

I can only let a little in a time. I read and write and cry. But then I have to eat and medicate and focus on new men.

It’s 4:40 AM and I’ve spent the last two hours really in it. I let my mind go all the way from “what would it take to repair the damage done” to “what would a divorce look like”, and it was not a fun thought experiment.

Most days, I live in a kind of fantasy world where I live this pseudo-single life. I’m dating and I’m working and I’m trying to focus on myself. But nothing can really happen, I can’t really move forward or work things out. That’s been ok and good. But tonight, for the first time I had a moment where I thought, rather I felt, “this limbo is untenable”. Before tonight I had been telling myself I could maintain this in-between life for quite a while and that was comforting. No need to make decisions now. Just keep on keeping on. I think I can keep living in that world for a while longer, thank god. I’m not ready for what has to happen next.

I can sell myself quite a story. It’s pretty cool; I believe everything I tell myself. It’s why I was able to stay in an unfulfilling marriage for so long. That only ended because the disconnect between my story and my experience was so great that my mind gave way to my actual experience. And the experience was: I’m extremely lonely and unhappy in this marriage. That seeped in here and there over the years and it was only once I fully gave way to the pain of my actual experience that I found the courage to do something about it.

I think it’s similar now. I’m telling myself a fabulous story about how good this separation is. And it’s not a lie. This is a good separation and I’m confident it is the right thing. But I’m lying to myself in thinking it’s maintainable for much longer and that became clear tonight, just for a moment, when my true experience poked through. And it fucking hurt. Luckily, it’s gonna take some more time for my experience to catch up to my story.

So my new plan? Give myself a pass.

It’s 5 AM now. Tomorrow is shot and that’s ok. This separation is not going to be the time when I find myself and lose weight and start getting up at a reasonable hour. It’s not the time for me to learn to cook and learn French. Right now is the time for survival and that is something I know a lot about.

When I was in the initial phase of recovering after being sexually assaulted, I took the advice of a therapist of just giving myself a pass. I let myself do whatever it was I needed to do to get by. In that time it meant drinking on an empty stomach, copious television, some risky sexual behavior and lots and lots of sleep. It also meant some serious reliance on support networks of friends and family who would love me unconditionally. But the most empowering thing I did was document the whole thing fearlessly and then share it freely.

So while the coping mechanisms this time around are different, Tinder is enough of an ego boost and safe sex is just as effective a distraction and television never fails me, I’m still going to document this journey fearlessly and share it freely.

So if you’re new here, thank you for reading. Something about sharing this with you is invaluable to me. I hope you’ll stick around for the funny and sometimes sad stories about coping and the inevitable difficulty that will come when my experience pushes through my story.

Tonight’s coping? Drinks with great girls. Toyed with the idea of a threesome I’ve been invited to and now, Freaks and Geeks until I finally pass out.

Harder than I thought

Today was harder than I anticipated. Before the separation, I was looking at yet another Thanksgiving planned by me but a the whim of Spouse, who can barely get it together enough to learn what his work hours might be in advance. It would have been miserable. Our time together of late was disconnected and routine and devoid of much love are caring.

I didn’t miss him today, I didn’t even want to be with him. But he sent me photos and videos of S (our dog) at his family’s Thanksgiving. And somehow, it just made me angry. I was angry I wasn’t there. I was angry things got so fucked up that I didn’t want to be there. I got angry that I couldn’t be with my dog and that I don’t trust my husband. But just below the surface of anger is hurt and sadness and those quickly swept in.

I spent midday crying in the bathtub. How did this happen to us? Why did this happen to us?

I think there are a lot of reasons and we’re just now beginning to look at them. I Facetimed him after my bath. The conversation was actually useful. We both have a lot of pain, anger, and personal issues to sort through. Whether or not that will happen and we can reconcile, I’m not sure. But I feel calmer that we’re at least on the same page now.

It’s the right thing and navigating it for now is a day by day task. But today really really sucked.