I e-mailed a few close friends, told them the bare bones, and said I didn't want to talk about it. I would likely cry, although there is the possibility of saying something rude that I don't really mean as well.
I alternate between putting a bitter and sarcastic, or absolutely sad and pathetic, quote on Facebook, then deleting it again within 5 minutes. I have moments when I want to delete my account completely and never talk to anyone again. I have been working from home instead of the office, partly because I don't want to talk to anyone, and partly because I am still randomly bursting into tears over unknown triggers. At one point I realized I hadn't even bothered opening the blinds ...
I am trying to understand what happened, and I still can't. One friend has referred to it as a temper tantrum, and that has elements of the truth. Another friend (also a PTSD wife) has reassured me that this is common in folks with PTSD, the gut reaction of anger over being told something that they knew deep down was true, but didn't want to face. They assure me he will come around ... but they don't know him. I am not so sure.
If he is keeping his regular schedule, his appointment with mental health would have been yesterday. I was hoping that I might hear from him last night ... but nothing.
I find myself checking my e-mail less often, because I don't want to be disappointed. When I do see that I have new messages, and they are not from him, I feel crushed all over again.
How did I let myself get so tied up in him that I am so lost without him? I thought I'd promised myself not to do that again ...
The only thing that is letting me keep it together right now is that I don't regret naming the elephant, I don't regret naming the truth that we both knew. I truly, truly regret the way it turned out, though.
Oh, I ache for you and this. I haven't been without my man for a long time, but I still remember every moment of the kinds of moments you are experiencing.
ReplyDeleteAgain I could write tonnes of stuff and wax philosophical, but really, it just hurts and sucks and is hard. So all I have to offer is this:
Work from home.
Leave the blinds closed until you open them.
Drink tea, soda, broth.
Pat your dog.
Hug yourself.
I know. That last one sounds lame. But it isn't. In the absence of the one you want hugging you, the only thing you can do is have those big cries as they come, comfort yourself, and remind yourself of how truly hard this year has been and remember that each long night eventually has a dawn.
(((((HUGS)))))
karen (in vancouver, you know that right?)