Wednesday, March 7, 2012

In the beginning...part 6

 sarahducky.tumblr.com
Follow the story. 
Read the previous entry here.

The apex.
The implosion.

It isn't hard to guess.  His trip to the country-that-must-not-be-named wasn't for healing and closure from the life altering accident he'd had 15 years ago.  His travel buddy wasn't really his travel buddy.  My husband traveled alone with the intention of sex.  It was a sex-cation.  An erotic vacation.

Landing at the airport and hailing cheap transportation he made arrangements at a dingy hotel full of single rooms.  Floors and floors of this hotel filled with men from Australia and Germany and the US, all seeking the same thing.  Cheap sex.  Can you imagine the rickety, contaminated mattress with it's faded blue and gray ticking?  What would a black light expose?

He spent 4 nights paying the ill-treated call girls across from his hotel at the Dollhouse. My requests for connection, for intimacy, for sex the night before he left went ignored.  My emotions are raw and numb and tortured.  This is my D-day.  This is my Holocaust.  My eyes are gaunt, viewing myself out of body.  Being gassed.  Heart stopping.  Breath suffocating.  Body like clay, cold, thin and dying. Landslide, swallowing me.  Lungs filling with mud.  Burning. Limbs numb.  Time whirling, ticking.  The unimaginable is now REAL.

The truth took 6 months to reveal itself.  During much of that time I was frozen, lethargic.  Life kept rolling.  I worked, cared for my kids, attended parent teacher conferences and soccer games and forgot to eat.  I bawled.  I was silent.  I went mental.  I bonfired all his underwear.  I added the F-word to my vocabulary.  Half-heartedly I listened to our therapist tell me it was my fault my husband cheated. I was numb as I nodded.  Brainwashed.  Watching a once healthy self-esteem give up and sink deep into the dark choppy sea.  defeated.

He wasn't apologetic or sorry.  He was the same.  No changed behavior.  He was still hiding. Like I said, the truth took 6 months to reveal itself.   Six numbing months of trickle-truth.

And then one day, the truth revealed itself and my blinders fell off and I was strong again.  And I was pissed!

I knew who he was.
I knew who I was.

I couldn't be bamboozled anymore.  He screwed Asian prostitutes.  He lied.  He lived a double-life.  He had to leave.  I generously gave him 24 hours to pack his shit and move out.

It's like one of those giant underground zits just under your nose that's so painful to touch it makes you cringe and your eyes tear up.  You try squeezing it and pressing it.  You try leaving it alone. You try a hot wash-cloth.  You even buy that expensive zit cream from Wal-greens but nothing works.  And then, it's ripe.  With a gentle pinch the core bursts!   Shooting it's contents on the mirror---and you love it!  Purging gives you freedom.

I had purged.
He was gone and I was free!


6 comments:

  1. it's compelling stuff..keep writing... an oh so familiar story....

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  2. oh yeah...I agree and thanks for subscribing to me! I'm 25 years into my marriage that's disintegrated into vapor. Same theme with the usual variations and some very unusual ones, as well.

    Lameassed shrink. I hear that one, so frequently and each time I heave straight into my lap top! If only she understood that we are "place holders." Our men would do this to WHOEVER THEY WERE MARRIED TO.

    I kicked my husband out. It took me four months to do so. Now, he's back. in the basement. good place for him. I ate crow and asked him to come back. Its all about the money, but we need to get this house together to be sold and I can't do it all by myself and besides, the financial drain is too much and we have to stay here until our son graduates high school. He has autism and the school district pays for his 118k a year private therapeutic boarding school!

    no quick fix but the marriage is over and yeah, its sad, but all we can do is look forward. (easier said than done.)

    honey, everything you are doing and feeling is absolutely normal. I ended up in the hospital one evening. good times.

    looking forward to hearing more. I admire your no nonsense attitude and strength. xo ~ Lexie

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  3. Wow....I held my breath for the most part while I read this post.

    I know it wasn't funny then, but the mental image of you with a can of aqua net (hell yeah! I still use it....don't judge) creating a torch to burn his clothes is just amusing. Made me giggle. :)

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    Replies
    1. i actually did a lot of that wicked witch kind of laughing while torching his britches. it was a high-strung kind of hilarity...probably on the brink of insanity! lol

      p.s. i have a secret can of the Net under the sink too. I'm a closet hair sprayer (I can't help it, I came of age in the 90's).

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  4. Okay, I navigated my way to the beginning and now I can't walk away from the computer. I'm totally enthralled in your story....wonder if my 13 yo will find a ride home from school, so I can keep reading!!

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    Replies
    1. hey lady! did you pick up your 13 year old? haha! I know how that goes, i'm the mom that's flying to school at 2:55 and last in line at parent pick up.

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hi

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