Stream of Consciousness

Consciousness... That's one hell of a word to type. Or say, even. I remember doing this exercise in school. Just write - or type in this case - whatever comes to mind. It doesn't matter if it doesn't even make sense, you're supposed to just let it flow. Hence the term stream of consciousness. Granted, you're also not supposed to use capitalization or even proper grammar, really. It's the nature of the exercise; don't get caught up in the mundane details. Just write. However, I have a REALLY hard time doing that. Not that my grammar is perfect, or anything. I just need structure when I write. Hell, I need it in life. That's quite a new revelation to myself if I'm being completely honest. And if I can't be honest with myself then who? And there - right there - that question brings me to the underlying issue of my life these past months; I have essentially been lied to for quite some time. Not on purpose or even in the actual sense of things being a "lie", but for the simple reason he couldn't even be honest with himself. However, it certainly does not change the fact that I have proverbially been put through the ringer. I know he has, as well, but he's not writing this. I am. And it's my feelings and thoughts that are fueling this exercise. Thoughts and feelings that have got to get out or you all may very well witness the tragic, yet fascinating, crumbling of a normally vivacious and, let's face it, rather awesome human being (not to mention humble... heh). Truthfully, I don't know why I say "you all" when referring to the readers of this post. Who's reading this, really? I've had this blog for two years now and I've managed to post a whole three times before this. Which may lead all none of you to believe that nothing has happened in my life. Oh no, quite on the contrary. My life has been shaken to it's very core. My soul stripped. My heart ripped out of it's once comfortable resting spot and left quivering on the floor where it dropped. Huh... Apparently I'm dramatic even in writing. Not that I'm ashamed of that. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Just making an observation.

The official title of this blog is: Simply Life. I was reminded of this tonight when logging in after being away for almost exactly one year. I remember thinking how clever I was for coming up with that title. Not that it's hugely original (yes, I used "hugely", my blog, deal with it) or anything. It's just that there is nothing simple about life, yet the day to day dynamics tend to be. Especially to people on the outside of your own little world. Which, to me, are the people who would read this public journal of mine. It was, simply, my life. My life with my kids, my family and, predominantly, my life with Don. The great love in that life of mine. Will forever be the great love even if it eventually brought on the aforementioned soul stripping and heartectomy. Nothing simple about that. Yet, somehow, it's still simply life.

I'm not going to get into details. That's not what I'm here to do. My goal is to just vent and hopefully release some of the pressure that has been building for far too long. Maybe, just maybe, it will take some of the hurt and pain with it. I'm not a big fan of the newest residents in the place my heart once called home. I have been told on several occasions since my world fell to pieces to sit down and just write. It's great advice. It took me a few days to get here, but I'm here now. I chose to use my blog not because I want attention or sympathy, but for the simple reason this format actually helps me feel that these pent up feelings are actually being released. They aren't being jotted down on the simple notepad program on my computer or even just a simple notepad. They're being sent out into the world, far, far away from me. I know the words will be here for me to read if I ever wanted to, but the feelings behind them, in theory, will not be. Plus, remember how I mentioned I like structure? Well, this blog is certainly that. And in my weird, strange way that helps make it all feel a little more "real".

I spent two of the best years of my life with the most amazing man. It certainly was a whirlwind romance and we made many mistakes. What couples don't? But, oh, how we were made for each other. We first met at our local community theater. I was 16, he was 30. He was married at the time and, well, I was 16 so, no, that is not when our romance started. However, we did become fast friends. For the next year we worked on several plays together, either on the stage or behind the scenes. He then moved, fell in love and remarried (his first marriage ended a short time after we first met). I also moved and got married. Fast forward nearly 10 years and both of our marriages have ended, we find each other on the social networking giant that is Facebook and the rest is history. It was almost like that decade hadn't passed. That connection was still there, but this time, there was something more. The second I saw him again after all that time, I knew. He was the one for me. The man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And for the next two years it wasn't perfect, but it was the happiest I'd ever been. So how did we end up here? Of all the couples this could happen to, why did it happen to us? There are many reasons. Many painful reasons we both have contributed to.

Each day is different. There are some mornings I wake up and I'm ok. Others, I have to give myself a pep talk just to get out of bed. Those are the days when I feel as if there is a crushing weight on my chest and all hope has been sucked out of me. I know it will get better. I also know it will take more time. Even now as I write this, I'm listening to music and nearly every song that comes on has some memory attached to him. I refuse to delete my music library so, for now, I'll listen. And cry. My hope is that eventually, one day, I will stop checking my phone first thing in the morning to see if there is a message from him; or waiting for his phone call every weekday at 9am while he's on break; or wanting to tell him about everything that happened in my day... Or aching over the loss of him so much it hurts. But today is not that day.