Once upon a time...

What happens when you can't keep track of a real diary.

Sunday, July 18, 2004

This is a strange feeling.

In many ways, I have been digging around in my psyche, trying to uncover who I am, or who I was before my marriage. Each new interaction scrapes away a bit more, helping me to find that buried personality that was discarded upon entering my relationship with Kelly.

Along with the discovery of my self comes the resolution to do this never again. Never again will I bend myself around the foibles and expectations of another. While I was with Kelly, I went in to so many arguments or intimate moments knowing exactly how the scenario would play out. I lost count of the times that I would think to myself 'Here's where I'm supposed to say this. Here's where she dismisses my comment in a flippant fashion. Now I get angry, even though I know that it does no good, and ask her why she treats me this way. She gets defensive and accuses me of projecting my own feelings upon her. I rail and yell until she admits that my original point had merit, and we sit in silence until I apologize for yelling, for getting angry, for everything. ...And she stays angry at me, denying her own anger all the while, until the next day.'

When I think of those times, and how they affected me, I begin to believe that Kelly was right. Perhaps we are better off without each other. I hate admitting that. I hate thinking that perhaps she was right. How could having my already broken emotions reduced to ashes be for the best? How could I find a positive in the desolation that resulted from my divorce? The idea is abhorrent to me. I must admit the possibility, however.

Since the divorce I have made a point of making my life better. Initially, it was out of spite. I refused to allow her to kill me. She took away everything that mattered to me then. My wife, my love, my happiness, my family, everything. I couldn't accept that. I wouldn't accept that. I have experienced my fair share of misery and loss in this world. I made it though other kinds of pain before, I could make it thought this one. So I resolved to go on, as I stated earlier in this blog.

I wasn't going to give up, no matter how terrible doing the right thing felt, I had to do it. I had to pick myslef up, I had to take each agonizing step towards putting together at least a shell of a life for myself. To make it though, I numbed myself to everything I could, because each time I let down my defenses I would break down. There were nights I would start crying for no reason. I would be sitting at home reading, or driving down the road and I would begin sobbing uncontrollably. Once it happened while I was on the phone with a friend, and I had to hang up on him because I couldn't put together two coherent words in a row. Those fits got farther and farther apart. Bit by bit, I started to fill in the shell I built for myself. School, increased position and responsibility in my work environment, and finally social interaction.

Let's see where I go from here.