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7th May
I’m about to see Shane. He’s been back three days. Haven’t been able to get myself to meet up with him yet. Weird. Was so desperate for him to get home. Once he did, I freaked. The pulses in my chest came back. Bad.
My therapist said it had to do with feeling threatened. Something like that. Threatened by him, coming into my safe space. Which is Ireland, apparently. Seems selfish to have a whole country as your safe space. But that’s the way it is. I don’t make the rules.
I actually can’t remember exactly what she said. Need to start bringing a notebook to therapy. Forget all her insights as soon as I leave. Also, not too sure about her just yet. She feels off in a way I can’t quite put my finger on. But I’ll stick with her. The effort of finding someone new is too much to handle right now. It’ll be fine.
Anyway. I’m seeing him now. In a bit. Unless I cancel again. Haven’t felt nerves this suffocating since my wedding day. Different, obviously, but the same. Electricity surging through my body, preventing me from sitting still. Can’t focus on any distractions. Tried to meditate. Made things worse. Allowed more questions to surface. Gave voice to fresh anxieties.
Don’t know how to be around him. It’s been so long. Longest we’ve been apart since the day we met. Our previous record is ten days. Barely coped with that at the time. Didn’t leave each other’s side for three full days after that. A lot has changed. Obviously.
Those versions of us feel surreal. Like they never existed. Remembering them feels like looking into a stranger’s past. Can’t relate. At all.
I have no idea what I want to say. Or if I even have anything to say. Feel like it’s all been said. Even though it really hasn’t. My therapist suggested I write him a letter. I may do that. Bizarre to be writing your husband a letter because you can’t string your thoughts into a coherent sentence.
Bizarre. This is all so fucking bizarre.
Didn’t know where to meet either. He’s obviously not welcome here. The thought of my parents lurking in the next room, ready to cut him in half with a glare, is not a comforting one. Even just imagining it sharpens the air with a bristling tension.
Meeting in public, also not ideal. Too weird. Can’t predict what emotions might bubble up. Could be tears, could be rage, could be manic fits of laughter. Could be a mix of all three. Either way. Not a cute look for a coffee shop.
Went back and forth for a stupidly long time. Got way too many people involved. Became a whole thing. Eventually concluded that we need privacy.
So, I’m going to his brother’s place. He’s moved in there. Didn’t want to go back to Cork till we knew what we were doing.
Unsure about being in his space. Don’t love that I won’t be in control of my environment. Hesitant about how vulnerable that makes me. Worried about his brother being there. Shane assures me he won’t be. I don’t put much weight in his assurances, though.
I’m going to be late. But that’s fine. Still not dressed. Don’t know what to wear. There’s no standard fit for this kind of situation. Or maybe there is. I’m new to this world. A new and unenthusiastic recruit.
This is all so complicated.
Hopefully, after talking to him, I’ll have some clarity. Praying that seeing him will cut through the fog of confusion blurring my vision. I think it will. That makes sense. I need to see him to know what I want.
Seems risky. Scared I’ll stumble back into his arms. Scared his eyes will melt the sanity that has been protecting me. His smile will crumble the walls I have built.
They won’t, though. That won’t happen. And if it does, I guess I’ll know then. Know that I am willing to forgive him.
I really need to get going.
I’ll have a shower first. As cold as I can manage. My therapist said cold water shocks you back into your right mind. Sounds like a good place to be.
7th May
Okay. I’m back.
That was really fucking weird.
Felt like meeting someone from a dream. Or a past life. Kind of. He looked different. Didn’t look well. A bit broken. Much like myself, I imagine.
It was painfully awkward at the start. The discomfort of a first date you’ve reluctantly agreed to, only to realise immediately upon arriving that you don’t fancy the person.
Feels like an odd thing to say about your husband.
We were being overly polite. Felt uncanny. Kind of creepy. Our voices rose to a pitch neither of us has ever produced before. Became acutely aware of my limbs. Forgot how to sit. How to human. Clutched a tepid glass of water like my life depended on it. Sipped on it, desperately trying to bring some moisture into my parched mouth. Sahara Desert between my lips. Made a sticky, smacking sound whenever I spoke. Shudder-inducing. Was the only thing I could focus on.
He kept playing with his wedding ring, twisting it round and around. Still wearing it. That was a relief. Also, strange. But good. Made me happy. Or, I guess, made me less unhappy than if he had taken it off.
My hope that I might glean some clarity from all that was, in hindsight, rather naive.
The one thing I was sure of in my life was him. That I could rely on him, on the stability of what we had built. I knew that he loved me. More than anything.
Says he still does. But his words are meaningless. Empty sounds. A child whacking a toy instrument with no idea of how to create music. I can’t reconcile his words with his actions, can’t reconcile the person I love with the person who did what he did, can’t believe him when he tells me he loves me. It actually makes me pretty fucking angry. Because if he loved me, and he still did this…
I don’t know. In a way, it would feel easier if he said he didn’t love me anymore. That, at least, would make sense. It would suck. But it would make sense.
Shane wants to get cracking on our reconciliation. Seems pretty determined.
Which is daunting. Intimidates me. Can’t move on from what happened. I’m not ready. Not sure I’ll ever be.
I do see a future where we’ve worked through this. Can really visualise it. Us, old, happy and in love, looking back at this as a turning point. A painful memory that jolted us onto a better and brighter path. That might be wishful thinking, but it is what I want. Truly.
I don’t trust that he won’t betray me again, though. I don’t know if he’s changed enough. I don’t know if the changes are going to stick. And even if they do, I don’t know if mine is a mind that can move on from this. Don’t want to spend my life waiting for this to happen again. A life of mental torture. Worrying that every fight will end in him blowing everything up in pursuit of an ego boost or a fleeting pleasure.
And I really, really don’t want to be back here in five, ten or twenty years, wishing I’d left when I had the chance.
Don’t want to lose him, though.
Every choice feels wrong. Whatever I do, I’ll end up unhappy.
I guess that’s the decision.
What unhappiness am I willing to live with?
Feels a bit like deciding to leave New York all over again. Harder this time. This is permanent.
If I walk away, that’s it. If I don’t. That’s it.
Phoebe got me tarot cards. I think the best thing, the only thing, for me to do right now is to put all my faith in them. Let them guide me. Take the decision out of my hands. Call in divine intervention to lead the way. Much easier.
8th May
The tarots actually helped. Surprisingly. Brought me some clarity. Finally.
Realised that I was starting to enjoy building myself back up. Fixing my life. Discovering who I am without him.
I’m not ready to let that go. To abandon her. The new me. I am still broken. A whole human cannot be reborn in a day. Good things take time. And that’s what I need. Time to blossom. Without restrictions. Without being confined by a relationship. Without a man telling me how to grow.
Weeds sprout faster than trees. But trees are much harder to destroy. And I won’t be destroyed again. I will not let that happen.
The time it takes is simply the time it takes. If he really loves me, he’ll understand.
God.
I’m getting very woo woo. Journaling is a gateway drug, apparently. But I feel good. Calm. Not panicked anymore. Feel secure in my decision not to decide on anything.
Keep Reading Here - Entry #9 - Older And A Little Wiser
I really enjoyed how honest and conflicted this entry feels. The line about every choice leading to a different kind of unhappiness hit especially hard—it captures the reality of many difficult decisions.
i really love how delicately you detected those emotions — that tiny, almost invisible embarrassment between you two when you met again 🥺
it felt so relatable, like i was an invisible third person standing right beside you, feeling awkward at the same time 😭
but im sooo glad u made that baee!! congrats on moving on!!<33