Having moved only months ago, my stuff is still in disarray and I honestly couldn't remember what was in the box underneath my bed.
It was my journals, all the handwritten ones before I began using the computer instead.
Were they shocking; I haven't looked at them for over a year. As I began to read the most recent one, covering 2004-May 2008 (a few weeks after the breakup), I was astounded not only by how much I'd forgotten, but especially how oblivious I was.
When I'm in the air, my posture is pretty much, "what could go wrong now and what will I do about it?...how about now?...how about now?" through the entire flight.
My personal life, however, hasn't been at all like that:
12-18-2004
I've been struggling recently. I feel like _______ really does give off certain signals which make me wonder if something is going on, they sure make me feel unwanted. I definitely have my own insecurity issues to work out, but when he doesn't hold or kiss me, it makes me feel lonely.
And it didn't used to be like that. The holidays are the worst; a time of many more questions than answers.
2-12-2005 I find myself so needy sexually, but of course can't act upon those needs. Sometimes I catch myself weakening but I would never let myself be unfaithful; ___________ and our family is most important of all. Still, my mind wanders, and I hate myself for it.
1-21-2006___________ and I are still together, but we've had yet another argument and I'm considering another "mini-purge" of my things. It just occurred to me that, in a strange way, this might actually be a simulation of separation and divorce.
4-14-2007
I'm becoming tired of not being wanted and being constantly berated for little things that are somehow symbolic of how awful a person I really am. I don't think I deserve it. We always focus on ____________'s tolerance; somehow mine is constantly ignored.
11-5-2007
Tonite ____________ and I had this woman friend, ___________ over for dinner. They get along really well, and [my ex] seems to light up when they're together. She is extremely supportive of him, even when he says dumb things. I felt like an outsider, I think it was how many things they'd shared outside of work, of which I knew nothing. His invitation to meet her at __________ mall near his work for lunch later that week seemed a bit unusual, too.
_______________ will leave me for this woman. I was struck by this tonite, and had no plans to write in my journal until this moment. Sitting here now, shocked about it all, don't know what to think. There wasn't 'nothingness' between that woman and me, there was actually a bit of friction, at first I couldn't figure it out but then, as the evening went on, it became more clear. I think there's something going on between them, especially when she reached out and touched the upper sleeve of [my ex's] old brown v-neck sweater, held her hand there for a second, and said, "nice sweater, what's it made of?" My ex had this look of incredulity on his face as she reached around his neck, held his shoulder, and began reading from the tag on the sweater. It went on far too long for comfort, and she was holding him the whole time.
5-13-2008
_________________ and I are now separated. I was right, there was something going on. But it wasn't even with her, it was with someone else! Don't I feel stupid, even though I've been far less than completely satisfied for some time now, I—as usual—decided that I'd continue to make it work somehow, regardless. _____________, on the other hand, just informed me that, for nearly five years now, he'd been waiting for another woman to come along so he'd have a reason to end our marriage.
He also told me, just now, that he would have been okay if I'd found someone else first and I was the one to end it. "It was [him] or me." My friend Dawn just called and told me it was the best thing that could happen, she'd been so sad for me for so many years, and knew that I'd simply never end it by myself. I'm moving to another city and, strangely, it's a lot nicer when I'm alone. I look at my old business card and it makes me think that I should have been better somehow; then again, perhaps it was simply not meant to be.
(Journal ends, marriage ends) 
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