My Old Diary

Not all my writings were bad, or sad, or angry. Some of them were full of love and hope and dreams. Like this one

I’ve been writing this letter in my head all weekend. Time to put it on paper so that you can read what I can’t say yet.

I fell in love this weekend and it had nothing to do with my camera. It has to do with your parents, your kids, but most of all you.

You asked me before and I wasn’t sure, I wasn’t ready. Now I’m sure, more sure than anything else in my life. I’m sure I love you. I always wondered how I would know, and my sister told me You’ll know when he’s everything you’ve ever wanted and all you’ve ever dreamed of. I have found that in you.

The biggest regrets we have in life are those things not done. I never want to regret not telling you how I feel. I want you to know… I love you.

A brief history… Batman and I met on line. We spent hours every day on the phone, and even more hours online talking. Four days after we started talking I knew I loved him. 2 days after that I met him face to face, and knew I was right. 4 days after that I went to spend the weekend with him at his parents house. Baptism by fire.. meeting his mom, dad, son, daughter, and his ex-wife. I knew that I knew that I knew I loved this man, and would marry him someday. I was pretty sure he felt the same way, but he would not say the words. And I wasn’t about to tell him first. All I could think that weekend was “I wish you could hear what I’m dying to say. And I wish you would say what I want to hear.”

So, I wrote him that letter and I left it in his room for him to see after I went home. He went to work that morning without seeing it. I ended up telling him what was in the letter on line that day, and at lunch we talked on the phone and said I love you for the very first time.

I made sure to leave him a short letter every weekend I was there, little note to say I love you, every time I left to go home. He has saved every single one of them. Including, especially this one.

Today was the big day-except that it wasn’t that big a deal.  We got to court, testified that we agreed to the petition and the separation agreement. 

Over an done with in 15 minutes - the judge will actually sign off on it on Friday but no one needs to know that.  As far as everyone is concerned, it was final today.

So in 15 minutes, the judge undid 8 years of my life.  And I walked out no different than when I walked in. Nothing in my life changes except that I am no longer married.  I have haven’t considered him my husband in over a year.  Does it change how I feel?  No, not really.  I know I did the right thing when I left. The marriage was not a mistake, but neither was the divorce.  I did what I had to do and it was never about hurting him, it was never about making him pay, it was always about making the pain stop. 

I walked out of that courtroom that day, and I didn’t feel any different.  Nothing had changed.  The sun still rose in the east, sat in the west.  Day followed night followed day.  The sky didn’t fall, time didn’t stop, and the world around me kept right on going as if it was just another ordinary day.

It would be later that I would finally see and realize just how profoundly everything changed that day. I found a strength I  didn’t know I had.  I found a bit of worth, something in me that he couldn’t destroy, the part of me that drove him mad, the part of me that kept him from winning everything.  The part of me that continued to fight, even when I didn’t want to.  I look back now at the person I was then, and it’s like looking at different person.  I am not her, but she is a part of me.  I look back and see how hard she tried, how hard she fought to make it work.  I look back and I am so proud of her for everything she survived.  She did the best she could.  She survived.

The date? May 26, 2007.  Four days before I loaded everything the girls and I owned and moved half way across the state.  Away from all of my family and friends. To a town where I only knew a handful of people, and most of those were Batman and his family.  Four miles away from his house.  I had been driving 2 hours one way to see him, one night a week, and every weekend.  Now, I was going to be 4 miles away.  And I was certain, (as you can see) that once I moved so close to him, the distance between us would be impossible to ignore.  That even though I would be physically closer to him, the emotional distance between us would be more than we could bridge.  Ironic that I moved over a hundred miles to be closer to him, only to get there and find out he was further away than I could have imagined, and further than I could reach.

The new girl lasted only a couple of months.  I waited it out.  I’ve been the only one in his life since then.  

Not all of my journal entries are serious.  Some of the contain the random bits of my single life. This one happens to be one I wasn’t sure if I could share.

I guess this is the step into being able to put ANYTHING up on here now.

Kara was two years old. I believe this was about the time I started feeling anxiety about my life. I say, “I don’t know how to be a wife. I certainly don’t know how to be a mother. I don’t even know who I am. Who do I want to be?”

Writing during that time is all I did. I was in search of the answers. Why? Why did I get married? Was this were I needed to be? Who were the people in my life? How much more could I take?

I didn’t question my love for my husband. He was my everything, but I felt so useless. There is nothing more heartbreaking than feeling unneeded.

This might be the hardest post to hit send on. I haven’t even typed the words that I wrote back in 1998, but just re-reading them hurts. I want to share this though. I’m probably opening up a door that should be left alone, but if it helps just one person, then me hitting the wall will make it worth it.

July 31, 1998

Today was just another day. I went to the bank and took some money out to pay the house payment from last month and this month, well, July that is.

I went to the doctor last week. I was diagnosed with postpartum depression. I guess I had it coming having two children back to back.
I knew from the beginning that something was wrong, but thought light of it. Now I am so deep I don’t feel an escape. Well, I do, but it is unacceptable. I feel like there is nothing left of me. I feel…no I don’t feel anything…I sense things.
I sense things slipping through my fingers and I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. I have no pride, no feelings, no love, no hate…i’m so indifferent.

My eyes are more open to things I have never ever thought of before, such as suicide. I never could understand how someone who was depressed could kill themselves, I would ask; “Didn’t they think about the people they would leave behind? Didn’t they care?” I now understand that with depression that you’re only allowed one emotion at a time and if your drawn so far into it, your only thought is escape and remorse has no place.

I often wonder how long I can last. I don’t know how long I can go on without ‘feeling’ things, seeing the future for what it might be and not caring enough to do something about it, to save what I have.

I heard this song on the radio and the line in it said, “You bleed just to know you’re alive.” I feel like that, like if I could just FEEL something that I could snap back.
I laugh and cry, but it’s on such a weird level. I feel more anger & hurt, but mostly guilt and anger. The anger stems from anything that happens that ‘just isn’t fair’ and the guilt is because before I could have handled it, but now I just don’t care. I want to hide. The overwhelming need to hide scares me. I want to run, tuck myself in a ball and …die.
I’m pretty sure that is it.

Everyday is a struggle. It’s amazing by the end of the day that I haven’t snapped. I wake up every morning and I think to myself, “Today is the day I won’t make it”…but I do and that fact alone pisses me off.
God I am so far gone.

I can see all this bad stuff happening and I can’t do anything to stop it.
I see Dan and I slipping further and further apart. I know he can’t take much more of me neglecting “us”, but I can’t even think about that because I don’t want to give him what isn’t really there. Like when we talk, I want to say things, but my mouth won’t open. I just think them in my head and he just gets this blank stare. He has now just stopped talking to me. When I do talk I feel like I am a zombie who is just talking because I know he needs to hear my voice.

This is all I can write today…I’ll finish it up later.

After several, long, horrible hours of trying to get this up and going, I HAVE SUCCEEDED!

Now I am far too tired to even think about digging out my old diaries and photographing or scanning them.