So as it stands now, I’m trying to come to terms with the very real possibility that my marriage is very likely not salvageable. I’m also trying not to think about it. I’m trying to focus on the fact that Philip is and always will be my best friend and I’m trying to get to a point where I’ll be able to live a relatively happy and normal life if (and when) we end up going our separate ways while still being able to handle that relationship. The sad reality is that I don’t know if I can. FML. Needless to say, it’s all very complicated. I know a lot of the really big stressers for him in regards to our relationship and while I can fix and change somethings, simply by living they way I do when he’s not home – eating healthy, cooking, working out, find some sense of pride in myself… sometimes – there are other things that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fix and with everything else that he has to deal with, I don’t know if he can handle that.
I am an emotional person. A very emotional person. I once described myself as living in a constant raw emotional state. It leads to mood swings, among other things, and he has a hard time dealing with those. It’s been suggested that I might have something like bipolar and while I’m not ruling anything out, because I know that I’m not normal, part of me can’t help but think that the emotional hurricane that lives inside of me has less to do with a medical condition and a lot more to do with my less than ideal childhood. Despite what my sister used to think growing up, I harbor a lot of secrets about my past. And many of those secrets weigh very heavily on my psyche. There are things that I went through as a child that I’ve never told anyone, things that two years into my marriage I was just starting to consider telling my husband. A year later, they’ve come roaring to the surface again… In fact, while there have been times I managed to repress those memories for several months at a time, I think I’ve been thinking about them a lot more in the last year.
They came up again last night. I don’t even know why. I know that Philip and I were talking. About a lot of different things and the next thing I know, I’m right back to a blue and white house with Pepto-Bismall pink bedrooms. And then farther back, and then forward. And the next thing I know, I’m sitting on the floor in one of our bedroom closets just like I was kid again.
Yeah… I have issues.
I think it came from somehow from the feeling I get of being damaged goods. Philip, he’s so sweet, he always tells me I’m not. He keeps telling me that I’m going to be okay. That it’s all going to be okay. And that if (when) we do get a divorce, that I’ll find someone else who makes me happy. I’ve tried to tell him. I’ve tried to explain, but he doesn’t get it. I’ve told him that and he always asks me to explain it then. But I don’t know how. If we don’t fix this, I don’t intend to put myself back out there… he did say once when I said that that I’d end up putting myself out there without even realizing it. But that’s not the case. The fact is that I can’t handle it. I know how that sounds. I know how crazy that makes me seem. I get that. I know that I’m going to get suggestions to talk to a counselor. But I can’t. I can’t bring myself to talk to a stranger. I just can’t handle it. It took me probably the better part of a decade to find myself in a place to put my trust in someone again. More importantly, to put my trust in a man. The simple fact is that Philip is probably the only man that I’ve ever felt completely comfortable being alone around and at this point, no amount of therapy is going to fix that.
Last night, I told him that no matter how well he thinks he knows me, there is a lot about my past that I never told him. He asked me why and he asked me to tell him now. But I can’t. I told him why I don’t talk about it… I never told him those secrets because I can’t imagine how anyone could accept me if they knew. The fact is that I’m always hiding a part of myself away. There is a part of me that I don’t think anyone is ever going to get to see. And now. Now I can’t tell him. He worries about me enough as it is and I can’t tell him when we’re going through this mess. I should tell him… I want to and that’s saying something. I’ve never come so close to telling someone some of those secrets as I have with him. But I feel like if I opened up about it now he might think I was being melodramatic. Like my mother. Any time I’m emotional, she’s dismissive of it. Makes cracks about how I earned the title “Drama Queen” for a reason. Or her prods about how I’m brilliant but have no common sense. God. It’s just so frustrating. My life is a mess. I am a mess. And I’m scared. The one person I care about more than anything, the person that I would give my life for in a heartbeat, no questions asked, no matter the situation. The only person I have ever been so close to, been willing to tell all of my secrets to, the person only person I’ve ever found myself willing to trust completely is going through so much. He’s got so much stress weigh on him about everything and I’m a huge part of that stress and no matter how nice our time is when I can manage to be happy right now, I still feel him pulling away. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want everything to fall apart and our marriage to end. But I feel like I’m holding him back, like I’m more of a burden that he needs or can handle…
Goddamnit. None of this was my intention when I started this post. In fact, what I was meaning to share was a small discovery that I made today that actually made me happy… I’ve been walking this trail with the dogs and decided to sit down and measure it today using Google Maps. Happy discovery, it comes out to just over a mile. And considering it’s more of a hike that the old loop we used to make at the old house, I’m far more excited about this discovery. Eventually, I’d like to work up to running it. Or at least parts of it. Since some of the terrain is kinda rough. But we’ll see how all of that eventually pans out.