Doing for me

Yesterday was probably my toughest day since D-day.  It has been almost a month, and the emotional rollercoaster has made me unable to decipher what I'm really feeling and what I need for myself.  Yesterday morning, after my H said that it was all my fault that the radiator blew on my car and that he refused to help me out because he believed it to be my fault....well, that was my breaking point.  I wanted nothing more than to tell him that it didn't matter or not whether it was my fault that the radiator blew.  It was fixable.  But what he did to me, the way he blew my heart into a thousand pieces, leaving me dead inside--I'm not sure that's ever going to be fixable. He said I should've seen the warning signs about my car--engine running hot, steaming (which none of those happened).  My first clue was when my car died on the side of the road.  But once again, cars are repairable.  Where were his warning signs, the ones that should have warned him that if he didn't want his marriage to die, didn't want to loose his wife and kids?  Were there ever any warnings that flickered in his head before he decided to sleep with another woman, to call her in the middle of the night while I was sleeping, to send her sexy text messages and sneak off to see her, to take her places and do things with her that I'd always begged that he do with me?  There I was yesterday morning, trying to encourage him, hoping in my heart that he's truly remorseful for his lack of judgment, while he is berating me over something that can be fixed in two days.  I stewed over it all morning at work.  I couldn't concentrate on anything but that.  So when I took him lunch, the second I saw him as he walked to the parking lot, my steam finally blew over, and I let him have it.  I told him everything...that I thought he was a low-life for doing what he did.  That he chose to do it, that he has absolutely no clue what he has done to me, that he already broke our bond the night he decided to become bonded with the OW.  And for once in my life, I let the curse words fly free, not holding back any bit of pain and anger that was flowing through my mind.  He was mad and dumbstruck, and I honestly thought that the whole incident would make me feel awful afterwards.  It didn't.  In fact, it was liberating.  Like an iron chain had finally been lifted, releasing the manacles from my ankles, my wrists, and most of all, my heart and sanity.  Ironically, my first induividual counseling session immediately followed, and boy, was that a wake-up call.  She had seen us both individaully the week before as an in-take. I found out that her plan had originally been to see us together in marriage counseling, but decided after meeting with him that HE needed several individual counseling sessions before he could even prepare for marriage counseling.  She told me that I must be made of steel, because that would be the only way I could've put up with that 'country-bumpkin' (her words) for so many years.  She also informed me that she'd assessed that he wanted someone to stay home, pregnant and barefoot, waiting on him hand and feet.  That will never happen.  I've always a career girl, believing that life is full of potenital that can only be acheived if we step out and reach for it.  I'm ambitious, I have goals.  I want to live a full life.  After speaking with her, I felt that much more unburdened.  But after I got home and saw his smug little face, his snide remarks ran back through my head, and the anger spewed over again.  I spent the evening to myself, outside walking for hours, then coming in and watching TV until 2:30 this morning until the anger dispersed enough for me to fall peacefully asleep.  Throughout the evening, my husband had made several attempts to come talk to me, begging me to come to bed (and of course, have sex).  But each time, I simply told him to go the hell away and leave me the hell alone.  Too many thoughts were racing through my head; anger at the fact that I have to go get tested for STD's next week, wonder about whether he'd slept with her in our bed, what was it about her that's so much better than me, why would he choose someone who has loved him faithfully for the past 15 years and raised his children and helped him live out his dreams for someone he barely knew who is only twenty-two and has a six-years old son and still lives at home with her parents?  The rush of emotions were powerful enough to manifest into physicality, and I really didn't want to end up strangling him and killing him.  So it was best that I be left alone.  Which, as I found out by the time I went to sleep, that was the best thing for me.  Aloneness.  A chance to talk to me, to build myself back up, to remind myself of the awesome, strong woman that I am, to remind myself that I have dreams, I have goals.  And they are certainly not worth throwing away for some man whose not even strong enough to keep it in his pants.  This morning I woke up and realized--it's time to do for me.  To heal for me.  And each morning when I wake up, I want to remind myself of such.  Remind myself that I'm not being selfish, I'm being me.  Being a mom for my kids, being a co-worker to my office staff, being a role model for the volunteers I have the honor of serving, setting an example for the young girls that I get to work with...Doing for me.