I started my new position June 1st. I am now a case manager. Mid June I started another relationship in my life. Not a regular relationship. Have you heard of polyamory? Yeah…so my husband and I started a relationship with another woman. My summer has been and up and down of emotions. A river of tears and heartache.
I have absolutely no judgement for anyone adventurous enough to consider it. I found out the hard way that it’s not something that I want to do, that I can do. I still ache. I still cry. I have a 40 minute commute to work on which sometimes I scream because no one can hear me. On the way back I scream, but now the pain seems more concentrated from the day so it’s more intense. Tears now flow as I scream and bang my steering wheel. I often wonder if other drivers have seen me. Then I try to sing as loud as I can while I wipe my tears and try to compose myself before I get home.
I don’t want my children to see how devastated, how broken and empty I feel. I don’t want to show this to my husband.
My advice to you if you ever decide to bring someone into your relationship, beware…someone may fall in love. And someone might not. And hearts will be broken.
I did not fall in love. And I am heartbroken. Nothing is ever as it seems. Don’t plan, your plan will not be executed like you intended.
Don’t expect. Don’t dream. Don’t fall in love unless you know they are in love too, all of you are in love too.
I only wish I could prevent others from going through this. But I can’t. This summer love left me exhausted. I am emotionally drained. I’ve lost 12 lbs in the last month. I don’t remember the last time I cried so much. I threw up and felt nauseous for almost 2 weeks.
I’m done with this pain. Fuck you pain. Fuck you.
A few weeks ago a position opened up at work and something in my gut told me to apply. It was an internal position and some of my coworkers encouraged me. I went through the interview process. I thought I was done. I get tremendously anxious when interviewed, even if I know them, even if I am 100% sure I know my stuff. Its something about feeling that they will notice my quirks, they will see my weaknesses. I have to make eye contact, I have to maintain still. I have zero control of the environment. Needless to say I got the cough. You know that tingly sensation you get on your throat that makes you cough non stop and if you try talking it just gets worse. Yeah..I got that. It was horrible. I had to stop mid interview and get a glass of water. It was embarrassing to say the least. But I had to do it. Although I wanted to leave running and not come back I went through it. I should say, I coughed my way through it.
Last week I got the news. I am now a case manager. I am thrilled. I am nervous.
My hair appointment lasted 4 hours. It strangely went by fast. Its hard to find people that I can relate and connect and be able to maintain conversation without completely faking it. I was able to do it with this hair lady. The talk was non stop. For some reason I build myself with courage and for those few hours I let go of fears or what ifs. I let her touch my hair, wash it, bleach it, dye it and style it. I even made it to her Instagram account.
We talked family, kids, marriage. Those 4 hours flew by. And most of all I liked my results. I felt her honesty.
My husband didn’t know what I was doing. When he saw me he couldn’t believe it. He was in awe. He just stood there with his jaw dropped. He told me he couldn’t believe I had done something like this. It made me feel proud of myself. I crossed that line and stepped out of my normal boundaries. At 33 I finally let it happen. It may not be major thing for some but for me this is huge. It’s of a gigantic magnitude. I feel proud. I feel brave.
I’ve always had my dark brown hair. For a while I went with black. And that’s it. Now look at me!
My next challenge: professional pedicure.
Today I am stepping out of my comfort zone. I’m writing this waiting to get my hair done by a complete stranger, whom I contacted on my own without no third party involved.
My coworker was looking through hairstyles and I said wow that looks good. She said I should do something like that. I laughed and said I wish. I’ve had my natural hair color for years. I did dye my hair black for a while but that was years ago. And of course I did it myself, no stranger touching this hair. I’ve had my natural hair for years.
After that conversation my thoughts were craving. Just going back and forth. Should I do this? Should I take a leap and go for it? Yes I should.
The next day I found a stylist, messaged her and set an appointment. I’ve never met her. And I’m letting her so close to me. She’s going to touch my hair. And wash it.
I have a slight discomfort in my stomach. I feel this tingling sensation in my arms. I can do this. I can let this happen. I will go though this because I want to do this for myself.
I’m nervous and excited. I’m also listening to another client here on phone. She’s beyond pissed. Who ever brought her left her here for hours and apparently she’s hangry. She’s having a fit over the phone. I guess this will entertain me until I’m next.
On Sunday April 15th my mother and I were having breakfast at my house. She had spent the night before at my house when we got a phone call, it was my father. My aunt, my father’s sister was taken to the emergency room and they weren’t sure what was wrong with her. She had a very bad cough and had apparently lost weight the last couple of months. My mother left abruptly to meet my father at the hospital.
The next couple of days went by in a very normal way aside from a concerning doubt as to what was wrong with her. They said it could be pneumonia, they said it could be lung cancer. But how? Yes she’s older I thought, 77 to be exact. She never drank in her life, never picked up a cigarette, never had a child. This was all even more concerning since just this past November my father had lost his brother to cancer too. Tuesday I get the call, its cancer, and there’s nothing they can do.
I had to leave work early. I got the the hospital and I saw her. It was devastating seeing her that way. Seeing someone connected to a breathing machine gasping for air, struggling at every single breath. I spent the whole night with, waking every couple of hours trying to desperately remove her IV, her machine, my aunt kept saying “just let me go, I want to go now”. It was heartbreaking. After that she was on a heavy dosage of morphine. We never spoke with her again.
At around 2:30 pm the next day we took her off oxygen. It took only about 6 minutes for her heart to give up. She laid there peacefully sleepy, finally resting. Surrounded by us, rubbing her back, telling her we loved her and to rest.
I’ve never seen anyone die. But if I ever experience that again I hope they go as peaceful as my aunt.
I’m left with wonderful memories, loving memories. My aunt never had children, and we all were her children. I’ll miss you Tia Ofelia, may you rest in peace.
I’ve always felt that I’ve communicated my feelings pretty clearly with my husband. Most of my feelings I put out there. The reason I do it is because I know that communication in a relationship is key. I know I have daily struggles, I know being married to someone with depression, anxiety, sensory issues and so many other struggles is a huge struggle in itself. I try to be as open as possible to keep this relationship working. I know that communication can help us bridge that gap, that separation that sometimes seems to grow and grow. But it doesn’t work both ways.
My husband has recently been struggling and I can see it. I married the most positive and outgoing person. He’s the type of person that never worries…or at least I thought. My husband teaches and he also travels for his music career. He manages his own band. Lately I can see the stress and anxiety in him. I can see it in his tired eyes. I can see the lines in his eyes which I never noticed before at only 35. I can see that smile he gives me when I get home and then I see it immediately vanish right after. Yet he won’t share his problems, his worries with me. I don’t know how else to make him open up.
He tells me he can’t just dump all his problems on me that it wouldn’t be fair. It hurts me to think he is hurting yet he won’t open up. We recently had a medical scare and had to take him to urgent care. He was prescribed high blood pressure medication as well as anxiety meds. I told him last time he needed to communicate yet he still refuses. I don’t know what to do. He does what he loves for a living. He works with music in his day job and he also travels with his band. He not only manages the band but he’s also their drummer yet he seems tired and worried and sad. It angers me. It angers me because he gets to do what he loves and live his dream yet he doesn’t seem to enjoy it. And the worse he doesn’t share what he’s going through. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help him. When he shuts down like this I want to pack my stuff and leave. I can’t handle it. I feel like the day-to-day interactions seem fake. Then I think, is that what it is to live with me? With all my symptoms, sensory issues, depression, anxiety and so much more. Is that what he has lived with for all of our marriage and now I get a glimpse of what is like? I don’t know. I want my old happy husband back. He seemed happier when he wasn’t pursuing his dream. I don’t get it.
I don’t understand it. I just wish I understood this darkness that is present inside of me. Why it leaves me and I seem to be doing so well then all of a sudden it’s back, and it feels it’s back with a vengeance. This pain in my chest grows. The darkness clouds my thoughts. It pollutes them with sadness, loneliness, desperation, frustration and agony. I can’t do this to my family. I have a husband, 3 children and family and friends.
My life consists of playing an act. By the end of the day my acting skills are exhausted to the bone. I am ready to drop my costume and acting game and live in despair. The sink into my bed and drown myself under the covers. Maybe if I cover my head the right way it will muffle my thoughts, just maybe.
I don’t understand how I can live a lie, how I can mount a Broadway show of a life everyday when I am slowly withering away inside. People around me have no idea of the real me. My coworkers think of me of the always happy, pretty smile, full of jokes and spontaneous comments full of life.
I don’t understand this. I don’t understand myself. Is it possible to live like this? Is it really possible to be able to live this show everyday? Or do I really have control over myself? Over this darkness? Is it possible to control it always? Why is it that I can control it, hide it, in front of people? If I can do that, why I can’t do it at all times? Living a real acted out play everyday that becomes reality and making the darkness disappear. Why can’t it just go? How do you even start getting rid of this darkness?
I thought I had it under control. I learned to meditate, do yoga, I even started running when this darkness started to eat me alive, when it started slowly suffocating me a few years back. The non athlete who never ran, started running. But it never fades away, it never really leaves me. This darkness is part of me. This darkness is me and it terrifies me. I’m 33 years old, half of my life is gone and the darkness gets stronger.