It’s 3:30am and I am wide awake. Again.
I’m awake because the images of him with his new love invade my dreams, even the ones that begin happy and have nothing to do with him, they crash into my images and startle me awake. A churning in my stomach that burns, my skin stinging and feeling prickly, as if all of my nerve endings have been exposed. I try to relax and go back to sleep…but I can’t.
I can’t escape them, not even in my non-waking hours.
During the day, I try to keep busy, to not let my mind wander. I focus on what my kids are saying, what anyone is saying, as if they were the directions that will save my life and get me out of this funhouse maze. But always in the back of my mind, the images of them happily and blissfully together, is running on a never-ending loop making me nauseated.
I see them laughing, kissing, holding hands. I see their wedding day, their newborn, the expensive SUV I’m sure she will be driving all too soon.
I dream of the unbearable sight of one day seeing her shopping in my grocery store, and wanting to push her down or throat punch her, because our town is too small not to run into her. I see her signing her name, with my same last name, and “Mrs.” in front of it.
And as I lay awake, staring into the darkness, I wonder if he does the same. Does he wake up with the weight of what he has created, or rather destroyed, crushing in on him? Does it make him lay awake some nights, questioning himself? Sad, sorry, repentant? Wishing he could go back in time and fix it all?
I doubt it. I seriously do. I wish that I didn’t, but I know him too well.
I wish that he was better than what he’s been, but I’ve been wishing that for a long time now. I’ve been waiting for him to make me a priority, to make our relationship feel important, for so long that I’ve almost forgotten how we even began. Were we ever really happy? Or was it all based upon convenience and comfort? The early days are so fuzzy and out of focus now, the days when we were both young and had so few responsibilities,that it almost seems impossible that we were ever truly connected.
But that was then, and this is now.
He can’t, and won’t, look at it that closely, it would destroy his self-image. He’s not that honest with himself. He couldn’t live with the idea that he was ever at fault for the breakdown of communication. The breakdown of trust. The breakdown of our marriage.
So, after going over it all again in my mind, like a movie that I am watching on constant replay, I try to go back to sleep.
But I am wide awake.