Stages of Grief

I am mourning my marriage, I acknowledge that. As that popular animated film K-pop Demon Hunters song "Free" said, "We can't fix it if we never face it". So here I am, facing my shame, defeat, and failure. 

Except the survivor in me is protesting those emotions. Why should I feel shame? Why should I claim defeat and failure? I did nothing wrong. I did everything right. I was supportive. I faced my partner's issues. I begged him to fix it. I asked him to heal himself. I left so he wouldn't have to stress about taking care of me (and also because his silence and his ignoring me were becoming unbearable. It was emotional abuse, and he didn't know any better. I left because this was a deal breaker for me.) 

Anyway, I even gave him the tools he needed to heal, d@mn it! I wasn't the spoiled wife we liked to show in public at all. I was slowly teaching him the tools to help him feel more secure and handle adversities on his own. I made him feel secure. I was the least troublesome wife there was. I humored him, kept things interesting, tried not to be too demanding (except for food and the number of hugs he had to give daily). I even got him a dog, despite my allergies. 

If this feels like a rant post, it probably is. It just feels so unfair to do almost everything right and still fail spectacularly. So, after 3 years of crying and heartache, I'm on the anger stage. My weirdness really comes out in the strangest times. This emotion usually comes in the beginning stages of grief, not at the tail end. Maybe it's because things have been in limbo for so long my patience has worn thin. And as more people are aware of my situation, the injustice of it all is making me feel annoyed and mad at him for being so slow in the uptake. Like why do I have to suffer his emotional incompetence? He's not the only one with childhood trauma in this relationship. I handled my shit long before he came to the scene. I deserve the same courtesy.  

 

Crazy Episode

Every once in a while I find myself in these crazy situations where I shouldn't be at in the first place. My curiosity sometimes gets the best of me. Luckily, sometimes I discover something about me that I haven't known before. 

But honestly, I don't understand my appeal. I mean, I know I'm smart and passably cute, albeit on the way-overweight side. Probably a nice 7 or 8 on the personality scale. However, I am rather outspoken, opinionated, and definitely not domesticated. I mean I do know my way around the house but it's never been a priority. I would rather hire a cleaning service than spend hours on deep cleaning.

Anyway, is it a badge of honor to know may asim pa rin ang lola nyo? lol

It's the Little Things

If you ask someone what they miss about a loved one or a partner that has moved on, they often say it's the little things - the way they would be delighted at the most random things, the smile, holding hands, a hug, or a humorous exchange. 

They miss the warmth of human companionship that only comes from a nurturing and loving relationship. 

I do too. I know that I left on my volition, but our relationship was devoid of this warmth long before I decided to leave. When he said he wasn't planning on seeking therapy anytime soon, rejecting my help, or anyone for that matter - I felt like that was it. Recovery from mental health issues can't happen if one is unwilling to heal themselves. Even the numb ones I've come across have reached out and asked their family, friends, or partners to help pull them out of the darkness. So yes, I don't understand why that supposedly smart STBX won't. Am I not worth the risk of opening up? Does he think I'm strong enough so I should just suck it up and stay? Should I tolerate being treated worse than the dog in my own home? Should I stand by and get sick from all the allergens floating about when he clearly knows they are making me sick? 

I dread asking this question but I need to say it out loud - does he not love me anymore? 

I understand that work stress aggravated his childhood trauma and the numbness is just a defense mechanism. It was my hubris, my belief that I at least taught him enough skills and provided him with enough stability to be able to cope and heal. As it turned out, I'm not enough against intergenerational trauma, especially for a sensitive and gifted boy who thinks he's smarter than everyone else. 

Oh well, as one of my aunts said, it is what it is. Nu dina kayat ken ania ngay maaramidentayo?

Still, my father taught me not to give up, so I'm certainly not giving up on people. But darn it, how can I move on then?

Homeless

 I was browsing shows on one of the streaming platforms when I came across this popular Pinoy romance story about overseas Filipino workers (OFW) and finding home. 

Thus, despite the mediocre acting by the leads (well, lots of improvement, it's just that the dialogue felt stilted and unnatural at times), I found myself sniffling because of a few clips. Some scenarios just hit home, ya know? 

In this particular movie/sequel, a patient of the female lead wrote her a card before the patient passed. It was wishing the protagonist to choose love, and goes on a lengthy discourse why love is 'Joy' and love is like coming home. 

Cue waterworks. (c'mon, I'm a work in progress. Cut me some slack)

I guess one of the things that made me cry was realizing why leaving felt so traumatic. I lost my touchstone, my home. The one person who used to calm me down and ground me disappeared, replaced by a numb automaton. Anyone who has lost something so precious, so dear, will grieve for what was, and what could have been. And that's the boat where I am at, and I need to direct the boat to when it should take me.

But gosh-darn-it. I still want my happy ending. I thought I had it by someone cruelly gave it then took it back. 

Happy 'effin Birthday, Quiquay

 This year marks the 4th year my erstwhile stbx partner hasn't greeted me on my birthday. 

Whee! (/sarcasm/)

I guess I've known that while it still hurts so badly and the trauma wounds are still there, I think I'm ready to move on. I don't know if I'm ready to share my story to the world - like my traumatic early childhood, I don't want people to pity me, nor do I need the platitudes from them saying, "You're so strong. I would never be able to do that." Well, I don't want to have to be strong. I don't even want to have to worry or stress about family and my bills and everything I have to take care of but here we are and we just have to make do. 

So we move on. We get our own place (albeit rented) and start rebuilding our lives with this new normal. 

And Pilipinas, we need that divorce law stat.

A New Beginning

 I was supposed to be celebrating our wedding anniversary this weekend. Instead, the weekend was spent moving my stuff to the new rental (with a happy side trip to a friend's birthday party). After more than 2 decades of living with him (and my siblings before and after), I am on my own again. 

I find myself not minding - I think I'm looking forward to the solitude and peace (my siblings are not easy people to live with). I think I'm ready to move forward with my life too. I don't look at my FB's memories feature as often as I used to. I just hope this year proves to be luckier for my finances and overall health as well. It's not easy living with chronic pain. And my knees have become even more problematic. I think I really need a PWD ID. Darned perimenopause. 

Break Time

I have the weirdest friends - and yes, I'm also weird enough to be friends with most of the ex-boylets. Former co-worker Papa J was feeling the work stress seep in and out of the blue asked to meet up with him during my free time which, given my irregular work hours, just happened to be in the afternoon. Well, I was also feeling quite stressed and could use the break, so I went.

So after going past our destination twice on the highway (why are the signs so small?!) we finally found our destination, and without preliminaries, kinda went right down to business, albeit with a ton of apologies for a lot of possible unmet expectations. Hahaha. We are, after all, not as young as we used to be.  

But it is kind of weird how very little we disclose yet we totally get the other person. I still do mean it when I said before that I'm not interested in how he lives his life before and after just as he isn't interested in mine. There is a detached concern like one would have with a friend so I guess that's that. 

It was still kind of a pleasant afternoon, I guess, although yeah, lots of unmet expectations. No pressure. It is what it is. It is kind of nice rediscovering some things. Like I can still do multiples. In yo face, v. atrophy! Ha!