December 8, 2010
Broken White Picket Fences: A Confession
Oh, guys. I've kept this back for the last six months. I've spent them with my hand tight against my mouth, but I guess it need to be said now. I guess maybe I thought if I didn't speak it, it would all get magically fixed, but magic doesn't happen as often as I'd like.
I'm keeping the story to a minimum, because there is no point in bashing anyone, and because if there is a hope of healing, I don't want to damage it. Family and friends from both sides of the family read this blog, and I'm sure they don't want to hear a soap opera (nor do I want to write one). The details don't really matter in the end, anyway, at least to any outsiders. But it will be quite obvious to everyone that I'm not at home anymore. People will ask questions. I want to give a semi-brief answer.
The basic points are these: My husband has done some things he should not have done. They have happened on multiple occasions since the early days of our relationship. I found out about these things while in the hospital for Millie's birth. They are things we (or a lot of couples) quite possibly could not have worked through at any time, but the timing made it all the more difficult and hurtful. We've been apart some, and we've gone through months of counseling. I've tried. I really have. Realistically, if it were just my heart at stake, I would have left the day it happened, but I have a little girl who depends on me to do what's best for her. It's hard to figure out what that is.
Deciding to be apart, for a few days or forever, is not easy or ideal with a four month old baby . If you've read my blog very long, you know that I spent a large chunk of it gushing over Sky. Then I started gushing over Millie, as if I had left Sky out. I always wondered if I came across as someone who totally forgot to love her husband because she was so enamored with her baby. I can tell you now that that is not the case. This is the reason why. If anything, Millie has been the only thing to keep me sane and smiling through it all.
I honestly have no idea what the future holds. I'm mildly terrified. I have lived in Illinois for nearly all of my twenty six years, and I will be leaving it all behind to stay with my mom for a while in Oregon. I am the most sentimental, nostalgic person alive, so saying goodbye to everything familiar is grueling. It's flat here, and it's cold, and I complain about it often- but I really love this place. I named my blog Chambanachik for just that reason- Champaign-Urbana is my home. It's part of me. I stepped out into the biting chill this morning, and when I thought about being away from it in a few short days, I couldn't breathe.
The worst part of that heartache is being away from my dad. I love my dad. He is definitely the best man I know, someone I admire more than words can express, and though he probably doesn't know it, a close friend. I see him several times a week- I live literally a half mile down the road from him. And he loves Amelia. I love watching him with her. I wanted her to have him near.
Of course, I have friends here- some I've known since I was five, and some I met in high school. I don't make friends easily, and these people have been there for the majority of my life. How do you say goodbye to that?
This is not what is supposed to happen. I was supposed to grow old with him. We had plans, goals, dreams. We were supposed to have another baby or two, and raise them right here in my town. We should have had dozens of anniversaries. We were the couple that always held hands. We were the ones who seemed to have a love that was unbreakable. I am shocked to learn that it can be broken, that it was. I guess things aren't always how they seem. There were so many beautiful moments- picture perfect moments- but they weren't really the truth. The truth has been very, very ugly.
I'm heartbroken that I may not get that future. I'm angry that it feels stolen from me. I'm disappointed that things are so very wrong when I thought they were so very right. And I hate- hate- that I feel like I've already failed to protect Millie from horrible things- failed almost literally since the minute she was born. She deserves so much more than this. What kind of mother am I to put her through something that I know will end up as a source of pain to her? I feel ill thinking about it.
I am writing this to get it off my chest. I'm writing it to provide an explanation. And I'm writing it because I know that it's nowhere near resolved, and that I will have to write it and vent it again and again- so if you read my blog, I ask for your patience in the comings weeks if I rant and rave. I have not the slightest idea if stepping onto a plane next week is forever or temporary. I have absolutely no clue what my life will look like a year from now, and I don't even think I would want to know, given the chance. Being the queen of I-hate-change, my life is so unglued at the moment that I feel panicky and scared.
I've cried more tears than I thought my eyes could make. I've yelled and I've whimpered. I've even looked up at the clouds in a cliche moment of desperation and fear and asked God, "why?". (He hasn't answered me yet.) Even so, I greedily ask for all your prayers and thoughts. I want my family back the way it should be. I want everything back that I thought I had.
This entry needs to end before it gets any more disjointed. So there are the facts: I will be some place other than home for a length of time. Amelia will be with me. Sky will not.
I am not sure what happens next.