You'd think after two whole weeks (during which I really did nothing more than work and read) I'd have whole posts just spewing forth from my fingertips. Yeah. You'd think. Unfortunately, that's not the case. Don't get me wrong. There are things to be said, but I've waited too long and now find it impossible to turn each into its own post.
I tried. Numerous times. But, you see, my mother dropped a bomb on me and I crumpled under the pressure. She said, "Don't worry, you'll come up with a clever way of telling everyone that The Husband wants another chance." What? I will? BUT WHAT IF I DON'T? Naturally, every sentence I wrote thereafter made me wonder why I ever thought I could be a blogger in the first place. (Thanks, mom.)
Then I almost gave up forever. (No, not really.) (But it was close.) For a few days, each post I started was worse than the last. I told myself to post a picture. Something! Anything! Except, oh yeah, I stopped taking pictures. And, frankly, I'm too busy reading to pick up my camera. So, I did the only thing that made sense. I gave up. I buried my nose in a book and rode out the wave of (wannabe) writer's block.
Sometimes I go through these intense reading phases where it's all I want to do. I'm never sure how long they'll last, but hopefully this one won't continue too much longer because I've already exceeded this month's book budget by DOUBLE. (Possibly more, but I'm afraid to look.) (Someday, I hope to learn from my mistakes.)
Speaking of mistakes. The Husband... The Husband wants to work things out.
(How's that for clever?)
I really don't have much to say on the subject. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't expecting that one day he'd realize he'd made a mistake. I was, just not this soon. (And by "soon" I mean two weeks ago. Yeah. I'm really behind.) He talks a good talk, but I think... (insert dramatic pause and many deep breaths here) ...I think it's over. A lot of people might ask what's there to think about? But he's my husband and this is my marriage, my life, we're talking about so I haven't completely shut the door on the possibility of working things out.
Unfortunately, too much has happened. I have, like, negative percent trust in him. And for more reasons than one. He says he's finally realized his mistakes and wants to get help to work out his issues. I can appreciate that. But every time I hear from him, I fear he's calling to tell me he really does want a divorce. (Because, seriously, that would be just like him. Freaking waffler.)
Opening myself up to the kind of pain I've already experienced too many times to count doesn't make a whole lot of sense and I think I've finally reached a point where I'm okay- disappointed, but okay- with the idea of a divorce. And, despite the struggles (things haven't exactly been easy), I think I'm even a bit excited. The possibilities for my future are endless.
Of course, as soon as I think I've finally made a decision, as soon as I think I'm ready to tell him, I immediately start doubting myself. It was much easier when I believed a divorce was what he wanted.
Call me an idiot if you'd like, but this divorce is not something I've ever wanted and walking away from a man I love, one I've been married to for seven years, one I've built a life with for the past ten, is incredibly difficult. Sure, maybe it is the right thing to do. Maybe I do deserve better. Maybe I will find someone with whom I'm actually compatible, who will love and cherish and respect me, but, damn it, this is hard. It's really fucking hard to walk away, knowing it's the right thing to do, and yet constantly wondering what if.
(I guess I had more to say on the subject than I realized.)
On top of all this, my birthday is quickly approaching. I'm not sure how I feel about that. My birthday is something I've always looked forward to, but this year? I wouldn't mind if everyone just forgot. I wouldn't mind if I forgot. Not because I'm depressed or anything, but because I'm just not in a very celebratory happy birthday kind of mood. However, I'm going to make cake balls. All by my glorious lonesome. And it will be awesome.
(And, in case you were wondering, there is absolutely nothing pathetic about preparing your own birthday cake and eating it alone.) (If there is, I don't want to know.)