So all my best-laid plans have come to nothing, and I find myself back at square one in regards to how I cope with this. The Boy isn’t surprised, for as he said, it was bound to come out at some stage. It was probably a good thing that he saw the signs, and took me into a spare bedroom and let me get it out. I would have hated above all else to let her see me like that. I couldn’t have dealt with that. Any pride I have left (And I have very little at the moment) would not have stood for that. Of course, getting it out didn’t make me feel any better, especially with a bottle of wine sloshing around on an empty stomach. Apologies to anyone who had to witness the mess that I was on Saturday night, but I don’t know what I was supposed to do. It was all too much for me, having it thrown in my face this soon.
It’s the most impotent feeling in the world, knowing that you’ve done ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG and that somehow you are the one that has to hold back, choke back that tear, keep your mouth shut and try not to make a scene for the sake of others. Although god knows how many people heard me sobbing like a child while walking past to get beer or whatever, at that stage, a dark room and The Boy there to realise how much pain this has - and is – causing me where all I wanted. That, and a stomach pump. Or even better, a stomach that doesn’t dance the conga at the first sign of emotional upset.
I guess the worst thing is wondering what I’ve done to deserve this. It’s bad enough that this has all happened and that I’m trying really, really hard not to be bitter, or cynical. Considering that I am the innocent party to all this, I seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time justifying myself to people who couldn’t give a shit how this is making me feel, or how it is tearing me apart day by day. God, all I hear is how much this is hurting other people. Well, considering they brought it all on themselves, and I’ve done nothing at all, I get told to leave people alone.
But I do know this; I will NOT spend another night sobbing and trying not to scream, and throwing up what little I have in my stomach. I will NOT be forced to act as if everything is okay, and I won’t worry next time about making a scene. I will stand up for myself, and I won’t back down again, regardless of whom asks me to. I thought I had reached the end of my tether last week, but this goes so far past what I can and WHAT I SHOULD BE EXPECTED to tolerate, that I honestly cannot put it into words.
And so, I’m not going to attempt to. I’ve had enough of boring people with gloom and doom. The next update, I promise, will be brighter, whiter, and give you 24-hour protection from plaque. Or something like that, anyway.