Day Eighty Five

Sunday.  Church.  I love going, but there is something about it that makes me really emotional lately.  I wish he was one of these good faithful christian men that sit with their arms around their wives and stay true to their vows.  I wish he felt a connection with God that would have stopped this all from happening.  I wind up spending most of the service with tears slowly running down my cheeks as I try not to break down into convulsing sobs.

After the service, I performed my usual routine...  quickly excused myself to the restroom to dry my eyes and pretend as though I didnt cry during the closing songs.  I know he knows I am doing it, but I appreciate that he doesnt acknowledge it.  It doesnt always need to be acknowledge.  Sometimes I just need to suffer in silence and I am pleased that he is starting to realize how to deal with me. 

Why I am the one that has to be "dealt with?" I hate being the victim.  I didnt do anything wrong and I am suffering every day for this.  Its bullshit.

Day Forty Seven

Spent the day at the conference then headed back to Dallas with my best friend (who lives in Austin) to go to a concert.  Lots of talk and a few tears on the four hour drive, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as our earlier conversations about this mess had been.  I discovered that I did have more hope than I thought.  Maybe we could get through this.  I had missed him these past two days and was looking forward to crawling into bed with him later that night. 

I arrived home, he was asleep and I curled up next to him… a little drunk and tired, I quietly cried myself to sleep.  I love him so much, I am so afraid to lose him yet I cant imagine life going on like this.  How in the hell are we going to get through this?  How can I love him so much after all he had put me through?  Was it him I loved or the person he once was?  Will he ever be the man I need him to be and will I ever forgive him?