I've never really used this as a real journal. I've tried off an on but never with much success. Really, I just liked using quotes from songs as my subjects and then putting random unrelated crap here in the actual entry. I've never been good at expressing my thoughts and my stream of consciousness writing just rambles on, changes subjects frequently and ends up looping back around to my original point in a crazy jumbled mess. That's a little how my mind works though. There is very little in the way of point A to point B thinking for me. One thought will lead to another then another. I'll be in mid thought and then suddenly focus on a minute detail and now I'm off on a new train of thought completely forgetting where I started. Sometimes I like to pause and try to force myself to figure out just how I got to be thinking whatever I am currently pondering. Just try to follow the long disjointed course of tangentially related topics that led me to that current point. This introduction is a perfect example of that. Did I want to write 186 words on how my brain is an addled mess? No, but it just went in that direction and continued for far too long.
So in less than a month I'll be 29. In a little less than a month after that I'll be divorced. It still seems so fucking surreal at times. When I was packing up all of Virginia's stuff I came across the bag that she had given me my Valentine's day present in. The card read "I will love you ALWAYS." Just four months later she told me she didn't love me anymore, didn't find me attractive anymore and wanted a divorce.
Since then, I've been all over the place. When people ask I have been telling them, "it's like a roller coaster," but it really isn't like that at all. Roller coasters have highs and lows. There have been no highs for me, just a lot of lows and a lot of numbness. Going back to my prattling first paragraph, my mind is always going. I'm a classic over-thinker. It happens in every aspect of my life and embarrassingly enough I have "over-thought" myself out of sex multiple times. It can become maddening and I noticed early on in the separation that the sober nights were the worst. I would not stop thinking. I would focus on mundane details and work myself up over them to the point where I was going to break down. I started drinking a lot. Not to alcoholic extremes but about 2 bottles of Jack a week. It was the only way to kind of slow my brain down and at least give myself some relative peace.
The reasons she gave when she left may be valid to a point but they are also bullshit fucking cop outs. She denied any relationship between her and Mark (for those of you following along, Mark was our personal trainer at the gym) for the longest time and even though I kept prodding her about it, she kept denying it. I thought I hit rock bottom the night I went to her apartment at 2 AM and left a beer bottle on his car. I didn't do it as anything creepy, or to start a fight with him, or anything along those lines. It was a simple message to her. "I know, stop fucking lying to me! All I wanted was some honesty and you couldn't even give me that." I was a little unsure if they would catch the subtleties of it, which is probably the only reason I had the balls to do it, but the next morning the texts an calls started early. It blew over and I thought that knowing the truth and hitting bottom would help in the recovery. It didn't. It was like I hit the ground and just kept going.
The worst came about a week later. Virginia and I had coffee and filled out some divorce paperwork. I went off on her a little (believe me, I had some damn near evil things I wanted to say to her and what I actually said wasn't bad in the least), and then I apologized. We said our good-byes I started going home and I sent her a text apologizing again for being mean. When I got home my mind went into overdrive and things started building up, I couldn't believe that I had done that. She left me for the fucking personal trainer, a guy I had told her many times before I didn't like and hated hanging out with. Not only that, when she left she blamed everything on me. It was my fault because we don't like the same music anymore, because I didn't want to go out partying with her friends and Mark every weekend, because I didn't got to her horseback riding events (which was a bullshit claim but I digress), because she tried to tell me but I never picked up on it. It was all bullshit, she wanted another dude and she left me because of it. I had every fucking right in the world to be pissed off and there I was telling her I was sorry for being a little angry. I hated myself. I have never in my life understood why anyone would want to kill themselves until that moment. I literally could not stand myself and sniveling little pussy I had been. I hated that I wanted to tell her off, let her know what a bitch and a fucking cunt she had been lately and I just fell back in love with her the moment I saw her. I loathed that she still had that power over me. I felt pathetic and worthless and that day I could totally understand why someone would take their own life.
I would like to think that was as low as I can ever get. Only time will tell I guess. I'm still mainly numb most days. I get up and I go through the motions. I have times where I feel less shitty, almost even have fun, but the instant something reminds me of her or the things we had, I come crashing back down. I know its not the end of the world and I know I'll recover, but god damn I'm a little fucking sick of feeling like this.
So in less than a month I'll be 29. In a little less than a month after that I'll be divorced. It still seems so fucking surreal at times. When I was packing up all of Virginia's stuff I came across the bag that she had given me my Valentine's day present in. The card read "I will love you ALWAYS." Just four months later she told me she didn't love me anymore, didn't find me attractive anymore and wanted a divorce.
Since then, I've been all over the place. When people ask I have been telling them, "it's like a roller coaster," but it really isn't like that at all. Roller coasters have highs and lows. There have been no highs for me, just a lot of lows and a lot of numbness. Going back to my prattling first paragraph, my mind is always going. I'm a classic over-thinker. It happens in every aspect of my life and embarrassingly enough I have "over-thought" myself out of sex multiple times. It can become maddening and I noticed early on in the separation that the sober nights were the worst. I would not stop thinking. I would focus on mundane details and work myself up over them to the point where I was going to break down. I started drinking a lot. Not to alcoholic extremes but about 2 bottles of Jack a week. It was the only way to kind of slow my brain down and at least give myself some relative peace.
The reasons she gave when she left may be valid to a point but they are also bullshit fucking cop outs. She denied any relationship between her and Mark (for those of you following along, Mark was our personal trainer at the gym) for the longest time and even though I kept prodding her about it, she kept denying it. I thought I hit rock bottom the night I went to her apartment at 2 AM and left a beer bottle on his car. I didn't do it as anything creepy, or to start a fight with him, or anything along those lines. It was a simple message to her. "I know, stop fucking lying to me! All I wanted was some honesty and you couldn't even give me that." I was a little unsure if they would catch the subtleties of it, which is probably the only reason I had the balls to do it, but the next morning the texts an calls started early. It blew over and I thought that knowing the truth and hitting bottom would help in the recovery. It didn't. It was like I hit the ground and just kept going.
The worst came about a week later. Virginia and I had coffee and filled out some divorce paperwork. I went off on her a little (believe me, I had some damn near evil things I wanted to say to her and what I actually said wasn't bad in the least), and then I apologized. We said our good-byes I started going home and I sent her a text apologizing again for being mean. When I got home my mind went into overdrive and things started building up, I couldn't believe that I had done that. She left me for the fucking personal trainer, a guy I had told her many times before I didn't like and hated hanging out with. Not only that, when she left she blamed everything on me. It was my fault because we don't like the same music anymore, because I didn't want to go out partying with her friends and Mark every weekend, because I didn't got to her horseback riding events (which was a bullshit claim but I digress), because she tried to tell me but I never picked up on it. It was all bullshit, she wanted another dude and she left me because of it. I had every fucking right in the world to be pissed off and there I was telling her I was sorry for being a little angry. I hated myself. I have never in my life understood why anyone would want to kill themselves until that moment. I literally could not stand myself and sniveling little pussy I had been. I hated that I wanted to tell her off, let her know what a bitch and a fucking cunt she had been lately and I just fell back in love with her the moment I saw her. I loathed that she still had that power over me. I felt pathetic and worthless and that day I could totally understand why someone would take their own life.
I would like to think that was as low as I can ever get. Only time will tell I guess. I'm still mainly numb most days. I get up and I go through the motions. I have times where I feel less shitty, almost even have fun, but the instant something reminds me of her or the things we had, I come crashing back down. I know its not the end of the world and I know I'll recover, but god damn I'm a little fucking sick of feeling like this.
cara:
I would like to take you out to dinner.