I began writing a new post, like, twelve days ago. No joke. But it got to be so long, was taking up so much of my time, and had so many incomplete sentences that I finally just scrapped the damn thing and decided to start over.
Also, since it’s been, like, a year since I last posted anything (for which I am so not apologizing ’cause I hate it when people do that) (it’s YOUR blog, post however often you want!) I am, naturally, heaping loads of pressure on myself to make whatever it is I do post next really damn good.
(Which means this will totally suck.) (You’re welcome.)
And, since I haven’t been able to form the words I want to say into an even remotely coherent blog post, I’m reverting back to the ole stand-by. List format. ‘Cause I like lists. And it’s been a while.
It certainly won’t be as fun as this list, but I have to get this muddled crap off my mind and out into the great WWW or I’m afraid I’ll never get back to posting regularly.
So, yeah… just bear with me if you will…
1. If I had thought there was even the tiniest speck of possibility that The Husband and I would call “do-over” and resolve our issues, I never would have written this post.
2. No, The Husband and I have not called a “do-over,” by the way, but there is talk. There is serious talk.
3. Let me be clear here. When I cried “divorce,” there was zero (zero!) doubt in my mind that a divorce is exactly what would happen.
4. It’s why I filled out the papers the very same day. And shared them with The Husband the day after that.
5. It’s why we immediately began sleeping in separate rooms.
6. It’s why we immediately began to split all of our financial obligations.
7. When The Husband asked me to meet him for coffee two weeks later, I was 110% percent sure that it was not to question our decision and wonder if we were making a mistake.
8. I was wrong.
9. And remember this? You might recall it as the day I completely fell apart. I wrote it after returning home. Turns out I was more successful at holding myself together when I thought we had a less-than-zero chance… but crumbled to pieces when the “possibilities” door opened.
10. He asked if I’d consider a separation and give us a chance to figure things out. I told him that as much as I loved him, as much as I considered a divorce a horrible solution, it was the third year in a row that I’d heard him say he wasn’t happy. I couldn’t risk the hurt and heartbreak of hearing him say it again.
11. It’s that thought that keeps me unsure of a “do-over.”
12. I understand being unhappy. I do. Shit happens. Marriages aren’t easy. Being married to the same person for years and years and years and having to endure all the stupid shit that made you crazy starting the moment you moved in together can drive anyone off an effing cliff.
13. Wait. Where was I?
14. Oh yeah. My frustration stems from the fact that he never said anything about it until his bags were packed. Figuratively speaking, that is.
15. Technically, I’ve always been the one to pack.
16. I fear that I acted impulsively when I said “let’s just end this” and that The Depression played a lead role. I have not come to any concrete conclusions yet, but I’ll let you know when and if I do.
17. I’ve been avoiding my blog. There, I admit it. At first I was afraid everyone would think me an idiot for even contemplating the idea of working things out. Now I realize it’s because I think myself an idiot.
18. I need to stop beating myself up. I’ve made mistakes. He’s made mistakes. It’s time to figure out what I want right now.
19. You can probably guess at the direction in which I’m leaning. Because I’m a total sucker.
20. If it makes anyone feel better, if (big, huge IF) we decide to try again, I won’t move back in right away. We need counseling and I’ve already told The Husband that if he’s unwilling to commit to at least six months of torturous “I vs. YOU statements” then there’s no point in even trying. That’s one of my deal breakers.
21. I’ve asked that we both make our decision, one way or the other, by June 1st.
22. It’s going to be a very long two weeks.
23. On the flip side, a very long two weeks in a completely empty apartment. Empty. Apartment. A moment of silence, please. The Husband has left town on business and I’m taking care of the cats. When he suggested I sleep here, I thought that might be weird. Turns out? I don’t give a shit who lives here.
24. EMPTY APARTMENT.
25. The end.