Part Two: So if your reading this, you were intrigued by part one from yesterday. For all you truth seekers, I appreciate your interest. I know it may be shocking for some of you to read this very personal account. I just want to tell the truth as I saw it; for who do we really fool in being decieving? Thanks for reading. I don't know exactly how many of you read it since I can't check my facebookmobile or the PC :-)(day one of the fast...) As I said yesterday, it is a dark story the first few posts. I promise it lightens up ;-) Anyway, this is importing from my blogspot, which some of you subscribe to. Leave feedback if you read it.
Thanks.
...It felt like I was living with a stranger.
The stranger was not my husband, if that what you think I meant.
The stranger was... inside... me.
By the time we got here to Atlanta; we were all but shells of the once alive and in love couple that we had previously been. Things took an even darker turn in the last two years.
We got pregnant with Loren, and what should have been such a joyous occasion will forever be scared. By the time we had our first child together the disconnect was so far between us; on the way to the hospital to have the baby, we quarreled...Lawrence said he didn't know why, but he simply was not "in love" with me anymore. Yes, on the way to deliver the baby...
He's no monster. To be fair, at any given time we would have these "moments" where either of us would decide that we just don't work; and try to just walk away. The whole concept of "till death do us part" .... just didn't resonate.
I began to spiral down a deep and painful depression. I tried everything: Zoloft, The Secret, along with every other self help book at Borders, shopping, clubbing (social networking), drinking...heck, even weed...I tried it all. I began to believe that there was nothing inside me alive anymore, if there had ever been, I couldn't recall. I remember telling my husband it felt like I didn't have a soul. The walking dead. The further I sank into depression, and looked to Lawrence for emotional structure; and ultimately, the more he shut down. We were your classic Hypo-Hyper emotional Texas Giant of a ride.
But on the outside...
I was the envy of all my single friends, wishing they had this elusive thing called marriage. Everyone told me how I was so lucky to have the perfect little family... That is how we appeared to be. When will we learn about appearances? All a thinly vieled fascade. Just like my fascination with outward beauty. It is by no accident that I ended up in the fashion/make up industry.
While I may have appeared to be groomed to perfection: what lies beneath was just as ugly as whatever was growing inside my would-be happy marriage...
I could not get it right. I needed to be loved. He craved stability. And like a sad faced circle, we went around in a cycle of destruction. I wanted attention, and began an "emotional affair" with someone online. (Don't get all distracted trying to figure out with who. I didn't know him personally, and we never met.) My husband began a similiar "inappropriate friendship" with a colleage from work. Neither of us are very good liars, and quickly our indescretions were discovered by one another. I was certain it was over for good. For years I was able to convince others that they should evny me. Everyone was "always so proud of me"...and "I was always smiling"...and "she's sooo pretty"...and "sooo sweet"...I had it together...I had beat the odds...I was dying. Really, I was. I had increasing moments of sheer terror; I felt impending doom...
In May, I began having severe panic attacks.
At random times, in traffic on 285...in the middle of photo shoots...in the shower...at parent teacher conferences...I could not escape. The walls were caving in...my chest... I thought I was going to die. Which I would have welcomed, but I was afraid of what waited to grab my empty soul...was it the same thing that was showing my previews of Hell in my recurrent nightmares...?
I lacked any ability to cope with even everyday stressors. The doctors diagnosed me with severe clinical depression, with post traumatic stress disorder.
I was ashamed to let my sons see me in such a state. Ticking time bomb is an understatement....
While you were telling me how awesome it is that I have a "beautiful family" and an exciting career as a make up artist, what you didn't see...
was how Kameron began to have nightmares, worrying about his momma, his grades dropping down to near failing...
you didn't see me crawl into the fetal postion and cry until no sound came out.
Sleep and sleep and just pray I wouldn't wake up again. To doubt everything from my abilities as a wife and mother- to even if I was truly as talented in my carreer...to GOD himself. I stopped selling myself as a make up artist. I even gave half my professional kit away, saying it was pointless...I was secretly screaming "help me"...
Saddened, a good friend (Mr. Smith Gregory, ur the best!)..suggested that my husband and I watch the Christian marriage movie Fireproof. We did, and it was amazing as Greg had said it was. I cried like a baby at the end. Could this be the answer? God?...
My husband, however; fell asleep while watching. He had been drinking and he never could catch the end of a movie when he was on the sauce. I got angry- told him it was pointless. I felt like I was the only one "trying." So The Love Dare went unfinished. ...As did our recovery.
A few months passed. On the surface, things were getting "better"...I guess. I took my prescribed Zoloft, I lost twenty pounds. Kameron started this school year in his dad's school district, and his grades improved 100%. (His lowest grade thus far: 94!)
Sorry, I digress; proud mom moment.
So all's well that ends that way, right?
Not quite.If you think so, then your still missing the big picture.
I am inviting you to scratch the surface for this one time.
I was still trying to win my husband's affections.
I was hurting that despite my efforts, he was still so distant and cold.
I really would try:
"do you want to go for a walk?"
No.
"Do you want to go bowling with me?"
Not really.
"Do you want to talk to me at all?"
No.
It was obvious that he wanted out. If not from his body language, from his actual words. He said...I no longer measured up...
I have learned the victim role well over time. I have a doctorates in despair with a specailty in tapping into bitterness and blame to escape accountability.
If he didn't want to love me anymore - fine.
I was willing to give up, too. Afterall, I have my pride...
What is it that they say about pride...oh, yes.
Pride always comes before the fall...
Part two was a bit longer than one, thanks for hanging in there with me. It gets better I promise. Part three tomorrow. Leave feedback! or follow me on http://www.bookmarkyourlife.blogspot.com/ :-)
Love you guys!
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