I don’t have a lot of time today because I will be traveling an hour to meet with my boss (our weekly meeting) and then rushing off to marriage counseling. That should be interesting… I’m not really sure what to expect at all. Mr. Mess has been so distant. Instead of taking the opportunity to step up, it feels like he is stepping back from me. Maybe that’s his way of giving me space, I don’t know. What I do know is that what I really need from him is honest communication and that’s the one thing I haven’t gotten all week.
Anyway, back to the point. I probably won’t have time to write something insightful today, but this blog post from yesterday really spoke to me. I was thinking about it all night. How long am I willing to wait? How much more am I willing to take? When will he lose his “magic” altogether? I wish I knew the answers.
I wonder if he is strong enough to get past his life-long bad behaviors. I am always holding out for the “light at the end of the tunnel” – the wonderful time when we will be happy and healthy. That “one day” may never come, though. I have been asking myself if I am getting enough right now to stay and keep holding out. Is it crazy that I don’t even know? Some days we connect so well and all feels right with the world, but just a few days or even hours later he can lie to me again and shatter my dream.
Check out this post. It really is raw and insightful.
How long am I willing to wait? That’s the question.
I don’t know how many times I have thought: “that’s it! this time it’s REALLY enough!!!!”.
I don’t know how many times I have cried in the car on the way home from work. I don’t know how many hours, weeks, months I have spent consumed by rage, bitterness, temporary madness, a hurt so profound, a love unconditional, forgiveness, frustration, despair, hope, disappointment, sadness, ecstasy, weakness, impatience, only to push through a little bit more. I dont know how many times my freaking container has been full, only to find that I could make room for a little more of our story. One more round, one more chance.
I don’t know how many buckets of tears I have cried. How many hours I have curled up on the floor, how many times I have packed and unpacked my things. If…
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