You know...
Yesterday the reporter asked me a question. I wasn’t prepared for it at all. I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past 6 months and I pretty much know what I am doing but her question made me ask myself why. She asked if I regretted anything I’ve put on the blog. I thought about it for a moment and told her that I didn’t. And I don’t. Not yet anyway. But it got me thinking about why I didn’t regret it and I know the answer now.
It’s because of how I felt after being smacked in the face and told, “Get away from me, you make me sick.”
Can you imagine the person who meant the most to you doing that?
(By the way, Rick, if you ever touch me again, well, I just wouldn’t want to say. I feel better now, make my day.)
And have them do it when you absolutely needed them the most. And the lies. The lies that never ended. All he ever had to do was tell me the truth. To this day he denies it all. And the summer from hell. I jumped through all of his hoops no matter how high he put them because I didn’t want him to leave right after my surgery. He had his sister and her family come stay with us and he treated me like normal again for a week or two. I knew he COULD be nice, but he CHOSE to treat me with the contempt you save for someone who is holding you back from someplace you shouldn’t be. He knew he shouldn’t be there, but he blamed everything he could on me so that he could justify the contempt he had replaced the love with. He found fault with every single thing I did no matter how hard I tried and no matter how much I begged him to be nice long enough for me to get a little better. I didn’t know what to do and he just kept telling me what I was doing wrong and there was nothing I could do to make him stop. I tried until I lost so much weight I scared the people who cared about me. For my anniversary I got 11 roses. When I mentioned it to him, he said, “I thought they looked a little skimpy.” He totally confirmed the affair with that comment and didn’t even know it. All of my worst nightmares came true one day and that’s when it really got bad. He smacked me in the face and looked at me with a look so evil that I have never looked at him since and I will never look at him again. Then the pacing began. Pacing back and forth. I was in a constant state of panic. I couldn’t make it stop. I felt so bad, I was still pretty sick and I felt SO bad. It was awful. It didn’t stop for Thanksgiving and it didn’t stop for Christmas.
By the end of January, I was sick of pacing and nobody could hear me crying anyway so I started this thing. I guess I was a little testy at the time because I said some mean things. But I never lied. And it's the lying that hurts, sometimes more than the actual smack in the face. All I ever wanted was the truth. Now I have weeks of truth and here it is. So, yes, I admit I was a little touchy back then but I’ve come around. I still cry but not as much and when I do it isn’t really for Rick, it’s just for the sadness of a life that seems so close that I could touch it only I can’t. But also, it is with the knowledge that I DO have something good to look forward to and I am a little afraid to find out but I think it is going to be good. And I think this will be the last time I cry about it, ever again. I will have to make it a good one.
Yesterday the reporter asked me a question. I wasn’t prepared for it at all. I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past 6 months and I pretty much know what I am doing but her question made me ask myself why. She asked if I regretted anything I’ve put on the blog. I thought about it for a moment and told her that I didn’t. And I don’t. Not yet anyway. But it got me thinking about why I didn’t regret it and I know the answer now.
It’s because of how I felt after being smacked in the face and told, “Get away from me, you make me sick.”
Can you imagine the person who meant the most to you doing that?
(By the way, Rick, if you ever touch me again, well, I just wouldn’t want to say. I feel better now, make my day.)
And have them do it when you absolutely needed them the most. And the lies. The lies that never ended. All he ever had to do was tell me the truth. To this day he denies it all. And the summer from hell. I jumped through all of his hoops no matter how high he put them because I didn’t want him to leave right after my surgery. He had his sister and her family come stay with us and he treated me like normal again for a week or two. I knew he COULD be nice, but he CHOSE to treat me with the contempt you save for someone who is holding you back from someplace you shouldn’t be. He knew he shouldn’t be there, but he blamed everything he could on me so that he could justify the contempt he had replaced the love with. He found fault with every single thing I did no matter how hard I tried and no matter how much I begged him to be nice long enough for me to get a little better. I didn’t know what to do and he just kept telling me what I was doing wrong and there was nothing I could do to make him stop. I tried until I lost so much weight I scared the people who cared about me. For my anniversary I got 11 roses. When I mentioned it to him, he said, “I thought they looked a little skimpy.” He totally confirmed the affair with that comment and didn’t even know it. All of my worst nightmares came true one day and that’s when it really got bad. He smacked me in the face and looked at me with a look so evil that I have never looked at him since and I will never look at him again. Then the pacing began. Pacing back and forth. I was in a constant state of panic. I couldn’t make it stop. I felt so bad, I was still pretty sick and I felt SO bad. It was awful. It didn’t stop for Thanksgiving and it didn’t stop for Christmas.
By the end of January, I was sick of pacing and nobody could hear me crying anyway so I started this thing. I guess I was a little testy at the time because I said some mean things. But I never lied. And it's the lying that hurts, sometimes more than the actual smack in the face. All I ever wanted was the truth. Now I have weeks of truth and here it is. So, yes, I admit I was a little touchy back then but I’ve come around. I still cry but not as much and when I do it isn’t really for Rick, it’s just for the sadness of a life that seems so close that I could touch it only I can’t. But also, it is with the knowledge that I DO have something good to look forward to and I am a little afraid to find out but I think it is going to be good. And I think this will be the last time I cry about it, ever again. I will have to make it a good one.
posted by Meg Kelso | 3:28 PM
7 Comments:
Big hugs and a box of cyber-hankies for you dear :o) I'll bring the rum and we'll go find a couple of sailors, 'kay?
It'll hurt for a while, but as time wears on it'll hurt less & less. Be well!
Did you suggest to the reporter that the paper might need an "Ask Meg" column??
Stacey, that's a great idea! That would be a source of income for Meg and judging from the popularity of this blog, could bring in readers for the paper!
You're a smart cookie!
- Akos
HI, this piece brought tears to my eyes. how hard for oyu to write it it seesm, I am going thruu a divorce too. what is your hardest day? What was it like? How did you get thru it?
Thank you very much, Akos. Though, I must say, I'm more of a tart than a cookie. Aside from the obvious connotations, I'm also flakey and fruit filled :o)
As a male, I can relate to the pacing, the heartache, the unknowing, like looking over the edge of the cliff into a dark, deep, hole. Last time it happened I went into the garage, turned the car on . . . . .and as you can see I did not make it. There must be a reason why I did not die. Since then I have gone through lots of adventures, lots of friendships, several marriages. . . .had one hell of a time that I almost missed. Hang on, even in the worst of times up is the only way out. Just go to bed, cover up your head and cry. Cry till you can cry no more. Then it will be all over.
Post a Comment
<< Home