I’m lying here in the same spot, the same place in the same bed that I lied in those horrible days.  I have a layer of salt covering my face from so many tears.

Everything is fine but sometimes it hits for no reason.  This is a total blog vomit- just blahblahblah about nothing.

They were away at camp last night, a fun, special, father-son bonding experience made of fishing, dodgeball, falling into the lake, cooking food over a fire, and sleeping on the ground.  I was home with an out of control dog, wild, difficult 16 month old and preschooler.  With so many other random problems happening around me it felt like perhaps I was being punked.

Last night and earlier this morning I felt some jealousy over the fun they were having.  It’s natural… I think?  I am so happy but also feel left out.  I like to be part of the fun too, part of the memories.  No, not really.  Who am I kidding.  I do feel left out but … I’m just talking smack when I think that way.  I am really perfectly happy being in my air conditioned, mud-free house, and I’m thrilled that they’re out making special memories and having great experiences together.

I feel SO frustrated about this dog and this huge baby’s refusal to walk.  It is so exhausting.  Frustrating is not even the word- just *exhausting.*  After “the bite” incident, I am really wishing we’d get rid of the dog.  I love her but she isn’t a fit.  Any time there’s an “I love you BUT” you know it’s not right, not real, not going to work out.  That’s how I feel.  So every single thing I do for and to this dog is a heavy, not-worthwhile obligation.

I don’t know how much of this is bullshit, I do love her.  She came right in to our family… doesn’t that happen for a reason?  She turned me around, don’t I owe her some more compassion and patience?  Why can’t I muster it up?

It is very, very, very hard.  Very hard with this dog.

So then when H and the boys get home today I just am so exhausted, so annoyed with life, so annoyed that it was all on me, it just hit me.  I don’t know if it is bullshit—– hamster gone wild, but I felt the betrayal, I felt the hurt and the pit in my stomach.  I hadn’t felt that pit in WEEKS, maybe a month?  I forgot what that pit felt like.

Why did it come back?  It made me crazy to physically feel that.

I lost it- being rational and telling him I was so sorry for being like that, sorry for holding that against him still now, sorry for crying, sorry because I know he has so much to do.  Apologizing like an idiot for things that I really needn’t apologize for, all out of NO WHERE… he was a little confused I think.

When he goes away over night, it just stirs something- I have so many very irrational thoughts.  Is he craigslisting?  Are there women there?  Are they drinking beer around the campfire?

I trust this man, right?  Things are “recovering”, I love him and believe in him and trust him, don’t I?  So where does this come from?

It just bubbles up and bursts and hits me and I feel it.  Not just the thoughts in my brain but the heavy pit in my stomach.  The all consuming pit.

And I remember that that pit held me down for days and days and weeks.  And I remember the pit when the kids screamed and clinged to him not letting him leave when he said he had to move out.  And the pit when I hung up the phone after he told me there was more, there was sex after all.  Sex that he paid for.  And I remember the pit when I thought of that more, after the fact, the pit on the day he came back, the pit when I saw him for the first time after he moved out- seeing his face gave me a physical reaction in my gut.  One of disgust, dread, hate, foulness.

I remember the pit when I texted JT, knowing it was a bad choice but deciding I was tired of always being the strong one who did the right thing.  And as the minutes passed and he didn’t text back, and then hours later, he did text, that pit was there too.  The wondering if I’d regret not acting on it when it was right there, RIGHT THERE in front of me, available.  But I didn’t.  Maybe I’m just tired of doing the right thing.

Maybe I don’t recognize what the right thing is some times.

I want him to fucking KISS ME like he means it.  I want him to want me, to take me.  I do not exactly compare him to other partners I have had but I yearn for him to want me the way I had been wanted and needed, sexually  needed, by others before him.

It all feels so lonely, so scary, so dreadful.

I don’t know why the pit comes back sometimes- I don’t know why it came back so hard today but I don’t like it.  I fear what this means.

I will try  not to overanalyze it.

But it hurts.  It all hurts right now.  The betrayal, the acts of sex with numerous other women.  The taking his wedding ring off, the payments for sex, the not kissing me.  The CHOICE in it all.  The porn, the constant porn, while he wouldn’t give me hardly anything of himself.

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