It’s been a rough week around here, so forgive me if this post is a little depressing. Gotta get it off my chest.
We bought a bed for the mancave this week. That began it. I knew he needed one, have known it for some time, but I guess a part of me felt as though if we were still sleeping in the same bed, there was a chance we could still salvage what we had. Rationally, yes, I knew that was a lost cause. He can never be straight, and while the possibility exists that sure, I could have surgery and turn myself into a man, I don’t want to. Not even for him. I like being a woman. I’ve never had any desire to be anyone but who I am. Oh, I’d love to have my seventeen-year-old figure back–what woman who’s had children and packed on the weight afterward doesn’t??–but I don’t want to change who I am at the core, and at the core, I’m a girl. If I had a sex change, I’d be gay, because I love men. And that still wouldn’t fix anything, because my PIP is essentially a female as well, so we’d be two females looking at men. There are no fixes here.
So that began the downward spiral for the week. It continued with Aneira coming down with the flu the next night, with all attendant ugliness the flu entails, and Bryony following her down that path a day later. Yet another day later, I was in the same boat, and though the girls were only down for a day each, I, naturally, got hit with the full Monty and just managed to get out of bed today.
While I was in bed with this, he got a friend of his to come over and spend several days over to help him clean out the tool room to make space for the queen sized bed. The tool room that was supposed to have been a woodshop for him, for which we never had the money to get the wood he wanted to work with. We had managed to obtain all the tools, all kinds of tools, but with the number of thefts by various roommates, almost all of them but the big ones are gone. They can be replaced, of course, but it’ll take time, and with how things have changed since we first hatched that plan, well, I can see why he feels it’s a broken dream now.
The bed was installed tonight. It feels so very final, to both of us, to have it there. He’s angry and depressed because he felt he had to do it. He was standing in what is now my bedroom alone, and he said that he would rather have kept the shop and our love than do this.
I’m not sure what to think of my life right now. Is this an ending? Is it a new beginning? Has it been an ending from the very start, only I didn’t know it because I wasn’t in possession of all the facts?
Fourteen years. That’s a lot of time. I have to believe that if it was meant to be, it wouldn’t have come to this. To believe otherwise, after everything we’ve been through together over the years, is to believe that each of us failed the other one in some way that could have averted this result. I know that’s what he believes, but he was gay before we ever met, according to what I now know, so this separation of our lives was inevitable…wasn’t it?
My children insist they’re totally fine with everything, and are even encouraging me to “find them another dad”. They jokingly refer to their father as Dadmom and Mom Two. And maybe Aneira really is okay with things. Ten is apparently the new thirteen, and she certainly understands more of life and relationships than I did at that age, maybe because families with same-sex pairings are more prevalent now. She seems to be all right. Bryony, on the other hand, claims to be fine with everything, but she’s been acting out, both at school and at home, since the rift between us has become more obvious. I don’t know if it’s the fact that school is a new thing for her, and therefore the structure that she’s never had to deal with before, or the changes at home. I guess we’ll find out depending on her reaction to his clear move to the mancave.
Once upon a time, I had a clear path for my life. I really did. And I really shouldn’t say that, because relationships end for irreconcilable differences in all walks of life. And I imagine it’s just as hard to accept for at least one side of every couple if not both sides, especially when there are several years as well as children involved. So I should probably say, I had a path that looked clear. Now it looks very murky indeed. I’ve got no rudder. No idea what’s going to happen next.
How do you let go of something like this? Fourteen years. That’s more than half of my adult life so far. It’s the longest relationship I’ve ever had. Ever, outside of immediate family.
I don’t know how others do it. I’ve gotta figure that in every long-term relationship that ends, there’s always at least one person trying to claw his or her way back to the happiness they once thought they were going to share with the person that’s gone, starting over again from scratch. Right now, I’m going day by day. I can’t plan for more than that. Some days, I’m going minute by minute. Some days, only the kids and the animals are keeping me together, and I think every last one of them knows it. The dogs, and even the rabbits, have been more affectionate than usual. My kids have always been very affectionate, because they’ve been smothered in affection since birth. I never miss a chance to cuddle, hug, kiss, or tickle. And hell, they get cuter every day, because they’re mine, so why would I miss any of those opportunities? But all of them are my anchors to sanity right now. I don’t let them see the tears. Mama is supposed to be strong, so that’s what I give them. But some days, it’s so damned hard.