It’s incredible how many of us decide what is normal and what we can tolerate. For me I there was two main reasons that always stopped me from sharing too much. One of course was the shame that comes with being in something less than perfect. We all want that Hollywood love storey. Those I think rarely exist. Unless of course you are Dax Shepherd and Kristen Bell. Those two will always make me fall back into the idea of love. And of course I still do want to protect my husband even though he seems more than content selling me to the wolves. So let me tell you aren’t alone. We are caught up in the idea of what life should be and how to get there. I want the family dynamic. I can see how much my son loves him and wants to spend time with him. If I am going to foreshadow anything I might be bold enough to say that in time he will break his heart too. Unless of course team sports and other group child activities never happen again then he won’t be missing those at all.
A lot of people are confused on how somebody as picky as me ended up married with a son. Yes. I did try a lot to find the one to grow old with but there was always something. Too old, too young, too tall, too short, too angry, too mean and of course the always not enough teeth angle. No judgement here but if our conversations are always about how you lost your house because of your wife’s meth addiction but you are missing your front teeth. Well I call BS and I think you both had a hand in passing the pipe. My husband walked into my life just as things were looking good. I was enrolled in school and having a blast. I loved my work both at the Bow Valley Club and at Sephora. Not going to lie Sephora was my dream job. I was in love with life for the first time in 37 years.
I met him around Nov 10th 2016. The last time we were intimate was March 12thish 2017. You see what happened during the day of the 12th is that my husband went through my phone. He went through it on the eve before I left on my school trip for NYC. What he found was old nearly nude photos that I was sending to a guy in BC. It was something I had been doing for a few years. Trying to get the attention of a guy I thought I loved but trying to get distracted by somebody else. His rage made him call me the most disgusting names. He called me a whore and slut and numerous other names that I can’t remember off hand. He was mad because he didn’t see me as an overly sexual person and was disgusted at the fact that I had even taken those photos. We fought until 2am had sex and he drove me to the airport. We had no choice but to forget about the argument as we were picking up a friend on the way.
The whole trip I was forgetting about him and loving my life. I was remembering how great it felt to be single and imagining the life I was going to have. I was excited about graduating from esthetics and how it would open the doors for me to climb up the corporate ladder at Sephora. Meanwhile at home he was picking out my beloved 3 legged cat Herbert. He was one of the greatest loves of my life. Meeting that sweet lil kitten who was thrown away for being a hermaphrodite I couldn’t help but want to love him. Fast forward a few weeks and I was bleeding a HUGE amount on my way to school. Turns out I was pregnant. Casting aside any doubt I had on him…at 37 I was about to come out of school with a HUGE student loan, factor in maternity leave I thought the best decision would be marriage. I would have medical and dental benefits and hopefully a husband to build a foundation on.
To say the pregnancy went smoothly was an understatement. I was miserable with morning sickness, swollen feet, what my doctor thought was acid reflux and terrible headaches. Chalking it up to a geriatric pregnancy I went on with my days feeling like death but hoping for the best. October 16, 2017 at around 4 in the morning I woke up blind due to seizures throughout the night. I had wrapped myself in ice to fall asleep as it was the only thing that helped ease the burning pain. My husband saved our lives. Both of ours. There is no real reason to why we are both alive today. They at the time told him they could only save one of us. They didn’t have enough of my blood type to give me a transfusion if they cut me open and bled out. Through nothing but a miracle my blood pressured lowered and they were able to cut him out.
When you are in the eye of the storm it is hard to see things for what they are. Our whole conception of us being was brought on by turbulent times. I thought maybe it was me and I was being too sensitive. To me trying to keep the family in balance was my priority. What I didn’t see at first was how one sided everything would be. Of course I do take some responsibility as far as putting in some work in the absence of not bringing in money. What I wasn’t counting on though was everything falling on to me. The amount of meals I have cooked to watch rot in the fridge. The floor I would wash on my hands on knees to have him come in after work with his dirty, muddy shoes. I even blamed his lack of attraction on the fact I was holding onto weight and had a terrible scar across my mid section. Who would ever want to see my naked body and look at me fondly. I sat there and listened to everything I was doing wrong. Not noticing everything I was doing right. When the house is clean and all bellies are fed that is my doing. When my laundry is cleaned, folded and put away it’s all me. When I have a nutritious vegan meal ready for consumption again it is all me. All the animals and their cages and the plants and our yard it is all me. On the weekend my husband was laughing about the fact that the guys he worked with filled up a green bin of dog poo after the snow melted. I looked at him and asked if he was serious right now. Did you mention to them how you refuse to do any work and it is your wife who has to clean up after the dogs? Even after you have your hundredth cigarette for the night locked up in your garage watching videos of women. Am I wrong to think that one of his cigarettes, that takes 45 min to an hour can be spent outside cleaning up after the dogs that you so desperately needed. What I got from being raw and honest was a community of woman who are struggling just like me. A group of women that are tired of being the glue and fading into the background. Where once I felt ashamed in being raw and honest I feel like there is hope. It is ok to keep trying in your best image and do what feels right. It is ok to admit your marriage is failing. It is ok to explore the possibility of living a pleasurable life alone. Maybe if I can manage I can give strength to others. Isn’t that what the journey is all about? Finding strength amongst friends?