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Previously on “Nodus Tollens”
Exposure therapy. Well-meaning advice. Nightmares. Nothing is working. Stuck in limbo. Longing for a way out.
12th April
Had a massive fight with Shane this morning. I can’t take his wallowing anymore. Neck deep in self-pity, he is. Spent forty minutes telling me how difficult this is for him. How hurt he is. That I don’t understand what it’s like, I can’t possibly understand how lonely he is.
Faint ringing in my ears got louder. More piercing. It bounced around my brain like a pinball machine until I snapped. Anger exploded out of me in a fumble of seething half-sentences. Don’t know if I made any sense. Told him to man up. Even though I really hate that phrase. I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stomach another word of the drivel that was trickling out of his mouth.
He seems to be more focused on throwing himself an endless pity party than on actually changing. Heaping more shit onto the ever-growing mountain of uncertainty. Trying to moan his way back into my heart. Whine his way into forgiveness. He has yet to give me a single reason to forgive him. Yet to burden himself with accountability. I don’t even know if he’s apologised. Can’t remember.
Highlight of the call was when some Jehovah’s Witnesses rang his doorbell. Handed him a card that read, “The day will soon come when we will never again say, 'I feel lonely.'” I’m not even joking. Freakishly on the nose. Timing so good it might just have made me believe in God. Do they have a God? I honestly know nothing about them. Shane becoming a Jehovah’s Witness would be a massive plot twist. Not ruling anything out, though. Can’t be shocked anymore.
I figured out why he’s acting like this. He thinks I’m going to take him back. That reconciliation is inevitable. That this divergence ends only with our paths coming back together. Just a minor speedbump. Something I need to get out of my system. A hissy fit.
Makes me feel powerless. That assumption. He’s taking away my choice. Because it is my choice. I decide where we go from here. Not him. Us getting back together is not inevitable. At this point, it’s not even likely. Getting less and less likely by the day.
I want him to change. I want this to work. But I’m losing faith in his ability to do so. To become a person worth staying married to. While I’m in Galway, I’m going to pretend we’re done. For good. Just to try it out. See how it feels to live life without him. A test run. Doesn’t mean anything.
13th April
I’m on the bus to Galway. The start of my big adventure. Woop.
Barely made it. Very chaotic. Forgot how bad I am at travelling alone. Not that Shane’s much better, but we usually balance each other out. Catch the balls that the other drops.
I got on the wrong bus. To Belfast instead. Don’t know how I managed that. Realised two stops in. Missed my actual bus. Started freaking out. A little. Was embarrassing. And unnecessary. The buses are constantly running. It’s not that far of a trip, really not a big deal. Just made me feel a bit useless. Like I can’t do anything on my own.
Had me thinking back on that camping trip we went on, when I realised that Shane would never let me do anything. Or, as soon as he’d see me struggling, he’d swoop in to take over. Remembered how I freaked out at him. Told him that I needed to be able to figure things out on my own. Suppose I got what I wanted. A little too literally.
Anyway. The bus people were very nice. Didn’t make me buy another ticket. Appreciated that. I feel like people, strangers, I mean, are being sweeter to me. Softer. More patient. Like they can sense it. My heartbreak. More likely, it’s because I look like I’m one missed bus away from a very humiliating public breakdown. Crazy eyes, or something.
It’s nice. The kindness, that is. Not the crazy eyes. Very nice. When you’re in survival mode, you cling to positive interactions like a lifeline. Everything feels more significant. More fleeting, more precious. You become fine-tuned to seeking out the spectacular in every banal exchange. Looking for it to dazzle you with a moment of beauty. Relief in it, I suppose. I hope I remember that even when the curtains have dropped on this shit show.
14th April
In Kinvara. Surreal to be here in my physical body. Serene and perfect. How I remember it. Untouched by time, unchanged by pain. I haven’t been here since I was eight, maybe? When we came to Cruinniú na mBád.
Sitting on the red bench, tasting the salty ocean in the breeze, it dawned on me that this is real. My actual, real life. That sounds stupid, because duh. I don’t know. It just really sunk in. Thought about how much has changed. And how quickly. Still expect to wake up beside him. Feel his arms around me. His chest, rising and falling against my back. Silent moments before we untangle ourselves from each other, and continue our lives together.
But I’m here. And that’s beautiful. Different, but also beautiful. Easier to forget my sadness here. To imagine that this is all leading somewhere. A part of some greater plan.
Went for a swim in the ocean after. Was fucking freezing. Regretted it immediately. Would have bailed, only there were people there. Watching. Weighed up my options. Walking back felt more shameful than taking the plunge. Felt great after. Some sort of lesson in that, I’m sure. Diving into the abyss. Facing your fear. Blabla. I’m becoming very sentimental. Sounding more like an Instagram caption by the day.
15th April
The scenery is really pretty. Wonderfully soothing. The landscape feels like it’s wrapping me up in a blanket. Rubbing my back as it assures me I’m going to be all right. I’m not sure that’s true. I mean, I am gonna be alright. Hopefully. Eventually. I just don’t know what the fuck I’m doing right now.
Went to the pub last night. Had to call Anna to coax me into it. Going to a pub alone feels weird. But I did it. It scared me, so I did it. It was fab. Good music. Good vibes. Spoke to two old ladies for most of the time. Then some young people. Or, people my age, I guess. A guy asked for my number. “I’m married” slipped out of my mouth before I could even remember that that’s maybe not quite technically true anymore. He didn’t believe me. Saw him glance at my naked finger. Didn’t get into it. Didn’t want to give him my number anyway. Not my type.
God. If Shane and I don’t get back together, I’ll have to date again. Lord help me. Can’t even imagine. That alone feels like enough of a reason to take him back.
No. Don’t think that. Not helpful.
Also. Something kind of cool happened. Spoke to a woman there, Grainne was her name. She runs a Dance Academy in Salthill. She kind of offered me a job. Said they need staff from September. Told her I used to be a dancer, told me they have a dance company as well. It’s a crazy notion. Moving to Galway. I can’t. But maybe? Her number, I did make sure to get. Said I’d be in touch. We’ll see. Can’t decide yet. Shane wouldn’t want to move out here.
But that might be irrelevant.
Something rather liberating about being around people who don’t know me. Don’t know Shane. They meet me as a whole person. Not half of “us”.
It does feel like I’m without my shadow. Hurts. But exciting. In a weird way. Like starting a new school. But it’s your whole life.
16th April
Back to Dublin this evening. Feel better than I’ve felt in a while. Yesterday was wonderful. I don’t know what I did. Just wandered about. Looked at stuff. Imagined myself living here. Hopelessness calmed by a spark of determination. Want to move forward. Fall in love with life again. Be happy again. For the first time, that doesn’t feel impossible.
17th April
Home. Awful. Everything is awful.
Spoke to Shane when I got back last night. Briefly. I hadn’t replied in a few days. He was worried. Asked if anything was wrong. Made me laugh. Sometimes I do wonder about his brain.
It was a horrible phone call. A lot of tears. On both ends. I told him I don’t want to talk to him anymore. Not until he gets back.
It’s helpful. Not talking to him. Horrible. Torturous. But helpful. It’s too confusing. Everything feels so clear in my head. Until I speak to him. I get lost in his words. It’s like whiplash, juggling so many opposing truths at once. Conversation pivoting between small talk and the disintegration of our marriage. Laughing one minute. Crying the next. Want to kill him and kiss him. Never want to see him again, but know that this unbearable burning itch inside of me will only be tamed once we are together.
We hung up. I sat there. For hours. All night, maybe. Oppressive silence of my room so hollow, it felt like it might burst my eardrums. I swear the walls were creeping in closer. The weight of the ceiling settled onto my shoulders. All my breakthroughs evaporated. Saw them escaping through a crack in the window. Didn’t take me with them. Left me there. Nothing but my thoughts. Stifling company. Hard to breathe through them. Felt suffocated when I realised that even if we do get back together, even if we salvage some sort of something out of this, it won’t be like it was. It just won’t. What we had is gone. Forever. It will never be the same again.
12 days till he’s home.
Keep Reading Here - Entry #7 - Beginning Of The End Of The Beginning
> Shane becoming a Jehovah’s Witness would be a massive plot twist.
It really would.
Loved this entry. Could really feel the whiplash between her trip and her getting back and calling him. One day, she's ready to fall in love again. The next day, she is back in the hole.