Last night I took a look down my throat with a flashlight and did NOT like what I saw… This morning I got up and made my way immediately to the doctor’s office. I was poked, prodded, and swabbed everywhere imaginable. They did a strep test on my throat, diagnosed an ear infection, and I had them go ahead and run the full panel of STD tests while they were at it. I could have gone to Planned Parenthood and probably saved some money in the long run. I don’t care. I just wanted it over and done with.
Only an hour later, I was walking out with antibiotics, a prescription for a yeast infection, and a little more peace of mind. I still don’t have the STD results back yet, obviously, but having it taken care of is a relief.
On my (short) ride home I called my Mom. She said something that really struck home. She said as women and as wives we do our best to remain vulnerable, to give our husbands the opportunity to protect us. We let ourselves need them. We give them the chance to take care of us. When they blow that chance or squander that opportunity we have to pack up that vulnerability and be strong for ourselves. When we take that next step to care for ourselves we also end up not needing them anymore.
I tried to need him. I tried to give him the opportunity to step up for me. I wanted him to be a man, to protect me, to make my health and safety a top priority. He didn’t, so I had to take the bull by the horns and take care of myself. Once I found out he hadn’t gotten tested, it took me only until the next business day to get tested myself. Those tests, plus the extra ones because I’m so sick, took only an hour. One hour.
In that hour I stopped needing him. I stopped being vulnerable. I took back my independence.
At the same time, I feel my resolve cracking. Last night was the first time I really started wanting him here badly. My codependence started peeking through. For most of the weekend after his big lie was revealed we had only minor contact. Last night he texted me with:
Im not sure what things from the kitchen are mine to take. I know the new cook ware is yours just wondering about the things i was given as gifts. If you want them they are yours.
My first reaction was something like – Seriously?!? That is what he’s worried about right now? Then I realized that I should have been prepared for this. It’s what I asked for. Here are some of the other thoughts I jotted down in my journal:
- I’m weak. I want him here in bed with me. I want to touch him, hold him.
- I find myself considering an in-home separation. I just know I can’t do that. I’m not strong enough. I would talk to him, laugh with him, fall into those old patterns…
- I want to call him an ass for sticking to business (what he wants, when he can get it), but that’s what separation IS. He is doing me a favor, really.
- I want him to fight for me, for us, but I want him to be well first!
- I can’t have it both ways – him now & him better because he is obviously not better.
- I HATE THIS!!!!
Those were just my cliff notes version of the things going through my head. I wasn’t going to respond to his earlier text. In fact, I held out for quite a while. Until after midnight. Yeah… bad decision. Nothing good comes from texting someone that late. I engaged in a few back and forth texts, told him the gifts belong to him, and let him know about my strep.
In the morning light I realized that I need to disconnect myself from him emotionally. Letting go of my expectations for him, his recovery, his health, his therapy, etc. is my job now. I can’t control him.
He’s going to be coming by at some point today to pick up a few more things. I don’t know how I’m going to react. I don’t know if he will even try to talk to me. I don’t even know if I want him to.