I was reading...

...another blog and the woman was talking about feelings that I haven't had since I was in my marriage. Life sort of pushed them out of the way, but then I read how she felt when she tried calling her husband who should have been at home:

You didn't answer.
I went numb. I broke out in a sweat. My heart raced.
I was driving but really cannot remember anything else. I was in a daze. This wasn't happening. You wouldn't do this to me, would you?

I remembered that numbness...that total body tingle that precedes the hideous ache in your gut. That foggy-headed lightness that comes before the terrible urge to pull out your own hair. The absolute panic that you absolutely cannot do one thing to calm. The helpless feeling, the knowledge that something's wrong but no one will tell you what it is...they know...why don't they tell you? Why doesn't ANYONE tell you what's happening? And then you have to act like there's nothing wrong.

If you question him, you'll just hear more lies...even if he's telling the truth, you won't ever know it, it's almost stupid to even talk but you can't do anything else because nothing's wrong...just ask him. He'll tell you that nothing's wrong. Nothing but your maddening insecurities, anyway.

Living like that isn't fun at all. Consumed with the need to know, you become a CSI detective. You look for fiber evidence on clothing, lipstick on the fast food drink straws in the back seat trash, and you check receipts. Every receipt you can get your hands on. Searching for clues become an obsession. Phone records, credit card bills and his very behavior are all scrutunized for signs of the elephant that's standing right there in the room.

The dishonesty is tortuous. You KNOW he's lying...or is he? Is it me? He says it is. Maybe he's right....I AM doing this to myself. After all, that's easier to believe than the truth that's right in front of me. So...he says the only hope is if I go into treatment for my insecurity. I do. The counselor tells me I'm fine, we just need couples counseling. He goes twice, once with me and once alone. Did he tell the counselor the truth? What the hell IS the truth?

So, they put ME on anti-depressants. Now I have a psychiatric history.

Then, since I'm STILL in the way, keeping him from where he really wants to be, he becomes violent. Now there's an arrest or two for domestic violence on his record.

He comes home again. The lies continue. The same old shit, every single day...it never lets up.

And then it occurs to you...he has set up a perfect defense should you want to put an end to it all and shoot him in the head!

The therapy...the mind altering medicines...the abuse...the constant lies...the other women....AHA! Not a jury in the state of Georgia will convict me! Even if they find me guilty of something, I won't serve more than a couple years...and that would be worth it! Suddenly the horrible panic mode leaves and you feel a calm that you haven't felt in years. This truly is the only way to put an end to the pain.

But then you remember your kids and you just divorce the bastard.

Meg