I grabbed random belongings and ran
to Emma's house. Those dark days lit only by her hand shaking me awake
throughout the night to quieten my screams. Her iPod softly played Jack Johnson
to chase away the dark.
I had a trip booked to see my cousin; I considered cancelling but realized I could use the break.
I arrived and tried to pretend that nothing had happened, covering the dark circles under my eyes with as much makeup as they could hold. Admitting what had happened would mean it was true, how could it be? As the days passed the sadness took over, and while her beautiful little girls slept in the backseat I finally broke down and cried telling her everything.
With her help and support, I decided I wasn't ready to give up on him, that this was marriage and you fought with everything you had to make it work. It had to be enough, it's all I had.
After a week away I returned to him, to our home, and I gave it an honest effort. We saw a counsellor, we had rules in place. He was to let me know where he was and when he would be home, he wasn't to get drunk without me; he was to call often on business trips. Each pathetic rule was broken, every chance at trust shattered again, again, again. He refused to go back to the counsellor.
Life continued for him as if nothing had changed; he would get frustrated with the shadow of me that was left. I incessantly cleaned, baked and decorated, our home transformed into absolute hollow beauty. We bought things to fill the holes in our chests, hot tubs, couches, and clothes, things. They left us more hollow then before.
I would go through days of trying really hard, I would do sweet things for him like make a special dinner, or leave him sweet notes in his car. A few days later I would fall apart. I believed I was crazy.
During those three months I became a zombie, the memories from that time are grey and dull and empty. The most memorable memory is when Blake went on a ski trip for work and "forgot" his phone; wild nights of drinking and fun fill his memory, crying alone on the floor of our home fill mine. In fact most of those grey nights were spent alone, my hot water-bottle desperately trying to fill the cold in that empty king sized bed.
I had a trip booked to see my cousin; I considered cancelling but realized I could use the break.
I arrived and tried to pretend that nothing had happened, covering the dark circles under my eyes with as much makeup as they could hold. Admitting what had happened would mean it was true, how could it be? As the days passed the sadness took over, and while her beautiful little girls slept in the backseat I finally broke down and cried telling her everything.
With her help and support, I decided I wasn't ready to give up on him, that this was marriage and you fought with everything you had to make it work. It had to be enough, it's all I had.
After a week away I returned to him, to our home, and I gave it an honest effort. We saw a counsellor, we had rules in place. He was to let me know where he was and when he would be home, he wasn't to get drunk without me; he was to call often on business trips. Each pathetic rule was broken, every chance at trust shattered again, again, again. He refused to go back to the counsellor.
Life continued for him as if nothing had changed; he would get frustrated with the shadow of me that was left. I incessantly cleaned, baked and decorated, our home transformed into absolute hollow beauty. We bought things to fill the holes in our chests, hot tubs, couches, and clothes, things. They left us more hollow then before.
I would go through days of trying really hard, I would do sweet things for him like make a special dinner, or leave him sweet notes in his car. A few days later I would fall apart. I believed I was crazy.
During those three months I became a zombie, the memories from that time are grey and dull and empty. The most memorable memory is when Blake went on a ski trip for work and "forgot" his phone; wild nights of drinking and fun fill his memory, crying alone on the floor of our home fill mine. In fact most of those grey nights were spent alone, my hot water-bottle desperately trying to fill the cold in that empty king sized bed.
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