Do you have anything to say?

Yes!!

I'm heartbroken and devastated.

I'm scared and have no idea where to go from here.

The future seems dark and desolate and desperate without you in it.

I don't want to live without you.

I'm in love with you.

A decision that makes me want to curl up on the floor and weep can't possibly be the right one.

I miss you.

I miss hugging you.

I miss laughing with you.

I miss sharing this bed with you.

Can't you tell that this is so terribly wrong?!

Why wasn't I good enough? Why couldn't I make you happy?

What was so wrong with me?

Please, just put your arms around me and tell me everything will be okay.

Because, right now, it feels like my heart is being ripped from my chest and there's no chance I'll survive.

Please, don't let this happen.

I'm begging you.

Of course, I only said these things in my head. Saying them out loud wouldn't have made a damn bit of difference.

More of the same.

This fear is stifling. Seriously, I am overwhelmed with fear. It surrounds my heart and settles heavily in my stomach. It makes me nauseous. And anxious. And angry.

I keep telling myself I'll be all right. To relax. You'll be fine! And a part of me actually believes it.

Another part of me wants to throw myself at his feet and beg him not to do this to us. To me.

I don't want to leave my home. My pets. My husband.

I don't want to move in with my dad.

I don't want to start over.

I don't want to be alone.

But I know that this isn't something he's doing to me. He's not happy, he's not in love, he doesn't want to be married anymore... There's nothing I can do or say to battle that.

And I don't want to. I deserve someone who will treat me with respect and love. Who will communicate with me. Who will tell me when things are bothering him and give me a chance to fix it before he seeks attention from someone else. Who knows what he wants.

But.

What the hell am I supposed to do with myself now?

I was happy being a wife. I was happy when I thought he was happy. I had my easy-peasy job which contributed at least a little to our easy-peasy lifestyle and I had enough free time to pursue my hobbies.

And I was happy.

Now, my job seems pathetic. I make a pitiful amount of money for a soon-to-be-single almost-thirty-year-old woman. And spending my free time on things like reading, baking, and photography seems like a waste of time and money.

Am I suddenly supposed to pursue a career? Get a second job? A degree? What? And am I total loser for not feeling motivated to do any of that?

Is it all right if my only goal is to eventually support myself in my own little apartment where I can pursue said hobbies and have a quiet, peaceful existence?

Does anyone have the answers?

Does anyone have a spare million lying around?

Weird.

A few minutes ago, my husband knocked on the door to the bedroom, the same one we shared just four days ago, and asked if I needed anything from the store.

And after I politely said "no, thank you" and he left, all I could think was this is just plain weird.

Because this isn't just a fight. We're not sleeping in separate rooms because we're mad at each other. Our marriage is over.

Our marriage.

Over.

Wait. What?

I don't think I can fully comprehend this.

Didn't we vow to be together forever, like, no matter what?

And, now, after more than six years, it's just... over?

Again, it's just weird.

And heartbreaking. And frustrating. And terrifying. And so many other emotions.

I sarcastically told a friend earlier that I need a rebound and fast. Just a date. Just something. Because I think I might go mad if all I have are memories of my husband and our failed marriage to pull from.

And, yes, failed. This certainly wasn't a success of any type. I won't dispute the possibility that we could both come out on the other side of this as better, happier people, but, oh, those regrets that I can feel settling in for a lengthy stay? They are heavy and plentiful.

It's late at night like this when the sad really sinks in. Or maybe it's being at home, around my things, knowing that I'll be moving out soon that's causing that clenching around my heart.

My home, my personal space... it's very important to me. And yanking myself out of it, away from my husband, is, frankly, the most frightening thing I've ever faced.

Someone said to me, "You're so strong. I don't know how you're able to come to work everyday."

Thank God for work.

Seriously. Without it I'd be a wreck.

At least at work, I can think about something else for a few hours.

And not the sad, pitiful facts, which include:

1. My marriage is over.
2. I still very much love my husband. (I wish this would just go away already.)
3. In a day or two, I'll be packing. For the second time in three months.
4. And then moving in with my dad.
5. Where I'll be sharing a bedroom with my sister.
6. And, in six months, give or take, I'll be divorced.

Divorced.

Nope, I still don't get it.

A strange sense of peace.

I no longer have to worry if he cares, if he's interested, if he loves me.

If he's happy.

I no longer have to worry about who he's with, or who he's texting.

I no longer have to feel the fear that he might lie or hurt me again.

I no longer have to live with the insecurities I heaped on myself during the course of our marriage.

Beneath the broken heart and feelings of foolishness and failure, buried under the guilt and fear and that headache that comes from crying too hard... there is also a strange sense of peace.

Divorce.

It's over.

What he does, what he says, what he thinks... it no longer matters.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go repeat that sentence to myself a few hundred thousand times.

They have one thing going for them.

I don't like Birds of Paradise and I don't like this photo. But I sure would like to take all those colors and plaster them over the walls of our apartment.

It's February 10th, peeps. I feel like this year is going by faster than any year prior. I used to think this was something only old people said. Apparently, people approaching old say it as well.

I read eight books in January; I haven't finished even one in February. But yesterday, I watched season two of Dexter so that might explain why I'm so behind in my reading. (It's not the book. It's me. And The Crazy. And this, too, shall pass.)

I counted the stubs. I've seen twelve movies since the first of the year. Did I mention that I frequently go to the movies by myself? I like to go in the morning on my days off and eat candy for breakfast.

I find it physically painful to sit through a movie without candy. I'm working on it. I seriously need to get back in shape. And I've heard a rumor that regular physical activity is, get this, good for you.

My new boss is making me crazy. He's not just irritating, but persistent. It makes for a frightening combination. One of us is going to make the others job a nightmare. I only wish I felt more confident.

It's day three of My Life on Prozac. Other than some drowsiness, I feel no difference. Well, maybe a bit more hungry than normal. But something tells me that's not the Prozac.

So, what's new with you? Read any good books lately? See any good movies? Tried any new recipes?

Have you seen Avatar? All the hype has stirred an interest and I think I'm going to see it with my mother this weekend. (The same woman who can't sit still for three minutes, let alone three hours.) My question to you is this: 3D or not? I've heard mixed reviews. Some say you have to see it in 3D, others say it's not necessary. Any suggestions?

While many of you "enjoy" the snow...

It's more rain for us here in southern California.

I should be getting ready to leave for a book club meeting (that doesn't sound as lame as I think it does... does it?), but when the camera stood up and did a little song and dance routine to get my attention, I had to listen. So, off we went to stand in the rain for a while. And if I catch pneumonia, he's totally in trouble.

(Yes, I just referred to my camera as a person. And, apparently, it's a boy. Who knew?)

This morning, as I opened my e-mail, I held my breath for a moment. I was slightly nervous to read the comments I may have received on that last post. I don't know why. You people are so lovely and encouraging and, if The Husband would allow it, I'd totally invite you all over for a slumber party.

I hope you all have an incredible weekend. Will you be watching the Super Bowl? It's the biggest holiday of the year for my husband so, yes, we will very much be watching. And, I hate to say this next part because I know how so many people feel about the Saints, but... they took out the Vikings so they must be defeated. I'll be cheering for my friend Peyton.

(Oh, yeah. We're totally BFFs. He just doesn't know it yet.)

Bottoms up.

I don't know what I expected when I started this blog. I remember hoping that people would find me at least marginally entertaining and maybe, possibly, feel moved to leave a comment once in a while. Beyond that, I didn't have many grand expectations. (I suppose I just wanted a little piece of the web all my own where I could misuse parenthesis to my heart's content.)

The relationships, however, were a surprise. I just never saw them coming. I never thought I'd actually become friends with anyone or, gasp, build real relationships.

Sure, I could disappear tomorrow and it wouldn't upset The Balance. Maybe someone would pause and wonder or spend a brief moment thinking that's too bad, as I would if it happened to one of you, but no tears would be shed and that's okay. (Trust me. I don't need the added guilt of thinking that someone out there might be crying real live tears because I decided to stop blogging.)

(Oh, just FYI, I have not decided to quit blogging. This is not that kind of post.)

(Besides, if it makes you feel better, I can't imagine not visiting my favorite blogs, so even if I did decide to one day say "peace out," it wouldn't be for long. You'd still hear from me, whether you like it or not. Suckers.)

Before I get anymore off topic, let me try and reel this bad boy back in.

Turns out the relationships, while unexpected, are the best part of blogging. (Yes, I've said that before. Dude, if I'm going to stick around, I'm going to repeat myself occasionally. Might as well prepare yourself now.)

However, those relationships are also where things tend to get a bit messy. (Relationships are messy, or haven't you heard?) I've become friends with people who don't just briefly entertain me, but who I also admire like crazy.

Some are so genuinely nice that I feel like a better person just for reading their blog! Some are such amazing writers that I'll spend upwards of twenty effing minutes critiquing my own comment because how dare I, a mere peon in the shadow of their greatness, attempt to write even a casual sentence beneath their work of art?

(See what you people have done to me?! I've gone completely mad.)

But, because I think so highly of you people, I also care what you think. So, as time has gone by, and as my feelings for you have become stronger and stronger and we've fallen more and more in love, it's become harder to maintain that open-book mentality that I had when I wrote my first post.

And, let's face it, people can be sometimes... maybe... possibly... a little, well, judgmental. Not intentionally! Not always! But it happens. (Me? Totally guilty.) But my tough-shell exterior is (mostly) a facade. I admit it. So, the stronger our relationship becomes, the more I find myself hesitating. Because what if what I write next totally repels you?

Baking, I know, is a perfectly safe topic. And you couldn't pay me to stop talking about Twilight. (I mean, you're lucky it's not all Twilight all the time.) The cat pictures are harmless... as is my random undertaking of projects never finished.

But the fact that I filled a prescription for Prozac today? That's a little tougher. Because it feels like a weakness, like I should be better than this, like I should be able to just tough it out. Like, if I were telling you the news in person, I'd be twitching all over the place, staring at the floor or anything but you, and totally about to change the subject while you stared back at me while wondering what the appropriate amount of time was to stand there and be properly sympathetic until you could change the subject and pretend I'd never brought it up. What will they think of me now?

But it's out there now. Floating around the great, big WWW. And I can't take it back. So, since it's too late to change the subject, someone may as well crack a joke and break the awkward silence.

Or you could tell me how I'm making a huge mistake and here's what you would do instead. That's okay, too.