December 21

     I don't think I have adjusted completely to being visible. Not yet, at least. Part of me still wants to retreat back to the safety of the old, the safety of the invisible. But once invisibility disappears, it's hard to get back. So I press on. Standing there, knowing there are so many scary things to face.  All the things I am not sure I know how to do, or worry about how to negotiate. But they are things I use to do, use to know. Maybe it's like riding a bike. The very few people in my life who know what's going on, they are the ones who tell me I can do it.  Tell me I will be fine.  There is one especially --his wisdom, his calm. His belief in me. Although I've only known him for less than a year, his help -- the importance of the connection between body and mind -- continues to make me see the world in a new way.  And it amazes me because he is so young, young enough to be my son. Something we constantly laugh about because I always refer to him as being 12.  But his soul understands so much. At one point, I considered not going to him because I was afraid my life would somehow infect his; he has a girlfriend and I was afraid my clouded karma might bring bad luck. He didn't see it that way, and now I'm glad. How someone so young can know so much continually amazes me. I have found it somewhat curious that men are much more keyed-in between what is right and what is wrong; if someone really loves you there are basic behaviors, standards to even expect. Why would He not be at the hospital for my surgery? Why, instead, would He go visit his mother? Sometimes it helps to have someone else say these things. They seem so silly; I guess they aren't. But at some point, I'm going to have to go it alone. Without help...

December 20

     Earlier in the week, I was driving home around midnight and I stopped my car to sit on a stacked rock ledge and watch the snow fall. I actually hate winter, cold, and snow, but my cousin keeps telling me that if I learn to embrace it, then maybe I won't hate it so much. So I try.  I take advantage because at night, alone, I can think. I am rather sad, though, as I spent the end of the evening talking about Him to someone; something I promised myself I would never do. He will always be the father of my children, and I always  found it so tiring to hear women talk disparaging about their former spouses. I will never talk that way again to anyone; there is just no reason, and no good can come of it at all.  That is why I have my support, to help me with His ultimatums, demands.  Again this weekend, He went skiing. My front door remains unlocked whenever He is gone; kids wander in and out of my house. I've made a big dinner so everyone gets fed. I picture my life in the future without these kids and their constant needs.  I just draw a blank.  But I don't guess this is what He thought about on his vacation to Hawaii, or his ski weekends. The choices He presents are centered upon his happiness; I wonder to myself when or if He is ever going to consider the collateral damage of the collapse of our family.  Will He ever be able to think about them before Him? And I begin to question my professional advisers who have been so adamant about so many things -- I am asked for a drink by someone who I find fascinating at, of all places, in front of a car parking meter in Georgetown.  We talk for quite a long time, me in my odd yoga clothes, looking disheveled and rushed, but I can't go for a drink. "It's complicated," I say. He looks down at my hand, no wedding ring. "Are you married?" "Yes, and it's complicated," I say again. So he stares at me and smiles, and actually seemed to understand, taking quite a lot of pressure off as he hands me his card.  "I don't mind complicated, so call me when you are ready."  And he walks away.  Of course I can't keep his card, because if we were meant to meet, we'll meet again. When it's time. And then I realize why I have been following the advice of my attorney and others, because I don't want to be the cause of unnecessary hurt-- of being seen with someone that my kids could unintentionally hear about before it's time. I know that when the time comes, and it's coming fast and furious, it will hit them hard. And although my children are plenty old enough to understand, they still won't like it. Undoubtedly, no more big house with a pool. Having what they thought was their security, pulled out from beneath them.  Then I think, they've seen and heard so much over the past few years as His filter fell away. I use to try to explain things away, His outbursts, His unexplainable behaviors. But after so many years, there is only one way I can fix it. Friends watch, many offering opinions. Some say just stay, reap the benefits of what I've put up with for so long. How can you explain it has so much more to do with just "cashing in".  And why would anyone think happiness really can be found in just money? If that's all my life was to be about, I'd just shut up and stay. But if I've learned anything this year, it's that there's just so much more. And if I am to be any kind of role model to my children, there is really only one way to show them...  

December 12

     It's taken me a long time to realize I really did do something right. My kids. They are nice people, and more than anything they can ever accomplish, that makes me the proudest. I smothered them with love and hoped that was truly the vital ingredient.  I tried to instill the importance of attention to the world around them, but also fun; I blared George Michael and we danced in the family room. Unfortunately, I also burdened them as I spent years trying to cover for Him to protect them.  But over the holiday, my kids forced me to realize that all those years were really just a waste.  They were on to everything the entire time.
     For Thanksgiving, we spent five days in France.  He came.  I knew it would be tricky, but I've been walking a tightrope in order to keep our home somewhat in tact until my son graduated from high school.  Hmm ... after our trip, that is when the time-line certainly changed.  We were having dinner, just the four of us, at a sweet little restaurant. Then it happened. The explosion.  Right there in front of both of them, the attacks on me from Him, so out of the blue we all sat there silent. Shell shocked. I try not to throw up on the table. I am unable to speak.  All of a sudden, my kids immediately take over. Even though this is not their job, this is so not right. My son tells me to leave the restaurant, and I do. I just get up and go.  But as I leave, I now know with certainty we will never go through this again.  It is now snowing, I've been to France so many times and have never seen snow. I take this as a sign.
     But despite leaving, I realize I am becoming less invisible. I am not leaving because He said to, but because my son didn't like what he saw and didn't want to see me broken. Again. And I left because I wanted to. As I head toward the door, I hear my daughter --who will forever be a three-year-old covered in pink, hand-smocked dresses with huge bows in her hair --start to vituperate Him. She is able to do this without notice by the neighboring diners; after all these years she has finally commanded his attention and has done it with such inner strength. She berated him for his selfish, child-like behavior. She credited him with once again, ruining another event by his unpredictable behavior. She is now crying at the table.
     I was stunned to find out that after all these years, she really had noticed what was going on -- I thought I did such a good job of hiding it. I guess telling your kids that their father cannot come to the season's biggest regatta or the soccer game against the school's oldest rival, because he's just too busy, as he's leaving the house in his tennis whites, didn't really fool anyone but me...

December 11

     I just smoked my last cigarette.
     Fuck me.

December 11

     Sometimes the only thing to do is walk.  I was out doing just that last night, around 2:30 in the morning, looking for deer.  And smoking, of course, because I only have one day left until I quit.  Usually I find deer quite quickly, despite being in the city, but last night I kept going and going and never found any.  I was disappointed because I have had some of my best conversations with them in the middle of the night, when I'm out walking.  Some nights, like last night, there was hardly a soul out, and here is this bustling city, it is seemingly still.  I kept walking. Searching.  Only problem was when I realized I was a few miles from home, I also realized there remained a long walk back. And still no deer.  Shit.  But it gave me time to breathe, so I was thankful for that.  He has gone skiing this weekend. Another chance for me to breathe.  Trying to recover from the explosions that keep recurring like hiccups. For me, I just count the days. It's time.  But I will continue to follow the advice I am given knowing that really, these weeks will eventually be just a blur.  But as I wait, I am developing new skills which are throwing off the status quo.  One night, after having had enough, I went into a screaming frenzy.  Shocked the heck out of myself; must have shocked Him even more.  Unfortunately, my son and his friends, who I thought had left for the evening, were pulling up to our house.  Getting out of the car, they could hear me screaming on the street.  A bit out of character for the woman they know.  I didn't know I could scream that loud, and when I think back, I'm actually somewhat impressed--despite the fact my throat hurt for the rest of the night.  I escaped to a friend's house, the mother of one of the boy's who was at my house, and immediately sent a text to my son to tell him where I was so he wouldn't worry.  He sent a text back.  It said just three words, "I love you."  It made me realize no matter how much crashes down around me, I will never lose the most important things. And in the end, I really am very lucky...

December 2

     I must admit that being invisible gave me a certain amount of security, in an odd sort of way.  I was able to stop having to talk. Mainly He talked for me, so I really didn't need to.  One of the most distressing moments came when a close friend, a doctor, made an off-handed remark after we had attended a party together.  It was the first time anyone every confronted me about the way He treated me in public.  She also admitted that others had discussed this on past occasions. I had no idea.  The next day she left a name and number on my cell, and he has since helped change my life.
     Since becoming more visible, with his help, I have been so fortunate to have a number people in my life who have helped me through this year. I find that each person has entered it for a reason, and I have learned so much from each one. I am so thankful for their thoughtful guidance.  Many are new to my life, because in an effort to limit collateral damage, I decided to delay my launch toward independence until the new year. So old friends remain in the dark, still expecting to see us at the numerous holiday parties we normally attend, discussing future plans. It's a hard act to keep up, for me to keep living two lives. But it's with the help of my newly-formed support system, who constantly guide me through this vast unknown, pushing me to keep going, that I will never be able to thank enough.  And they are all helping me to learn to speak again. It's these moments, with certain people, that can unexpectedly change the course of your life.  I'll never know where their wisdom comes from, or why they decided to share it with me. But I will always be so truly thankful.  For so long, I never thought about the possibilities of a tomorrow, and I do again. I know it will be a very different life from the life I have today, and it certainly isn't where I expected I'd be 20 years ago. But at least, I'm back on a journey. And hopefully, tomorrow will be very different from today, and I will certainly be much more visible...

December 1

     Staying visible has become quite exhausting.  I've had to develop places to hide when I feel like fading away may just be easier. Sometimes very late at night, I sit in parks and smoke cigarettes. An odd choice for someone who cared for two parents who died because of smoking. But somehow, at this time in my life, it makes me feel like they are right here with me. And how I miss them. In fact, some days I actually think about digging them up just to scream at my mother, "You were so wrong about Him!" But then I laugh. There's nothing to dig up. Just a headstone.
     When my father died, he was cremated and wanted his ashes sprinkled in the ocean near their Florida house. Of course, my mother decided she couldn't stand the thought of being apart from him, so in the closet he goes, in the brown box underneath the portable potty. Not even kidding. Two weeks after his death my mother is also diagnosed with cancer. Crap. Eventually, she also decides to be cremated but wants her ashes sprinkled over her prized rose bushes. And lucky me, instead of leaving me some lovely piece of jewelry, she leaves me Dad. He's still in the closet and it's now been some four years;  still under the portable potty. One week before she dies, she has an epiphany. No one's  ashes are being sprinkled anywhere. Now she wants to be buried with my Dad near my house.  So after she dies, after sending Him out to my parents house to get my father finally out of the closet, out from underneath that darn potty, I find myself driving around for days with both my parents in the trunk. And the curious thing is, I quickly got use to having them with me.  So I suggest to Him, why don't we forget about burying them and just keep them in the closet? Heck, my Dad seemed to be doing pretty well in there so far. and goodness knows, they don't take up much room or make any noise.  He looked rather horrified at my request.
     They were buried at a lovely little cemetery not far from our home.  But, I still wish they were in the closet...