Flashback

I’m such a nerd! Lately I’ve been writing my blog entries out in Word and taking a day or so to get them just right and then copy and paste them into blogger. A couple of reasons: 1. Then I can quickly add the things I think of when I think of them instead of having to log in, go to the post and edit it (no, not really that much of a task, but hey) 2. Even though I did amazing in the 6th grade spelling bee, I have difficulties remembering how to spell things when my fingers are going a million miles a minute so this ol’ computer here helps me out with that. 3. I seriously have ADD and I’ll start writing a blog then start cleaning my desk off which leads to cleaning the kitchen counter which leads to mopping the floor which leads to rearranging my pantry (yes, there is correlation there, trust me) which then reminds me that I started a blog and should go back to it but I don’t have the energy and I don’t want to leave it up on the computer cause it’s my business out there and I’d prefer only the whole internet world read it, and not my snoopy husband. See, it all make sense.

I’ve started journaling lately too. I’ve been writing things in there that currently tell Ryan and that I want to tell him. I write better than I fight. Sounds weird, right? But it’s true. When I have the chance to sit down and write things out, I can keep my emotions in check. I’m a horrible fighter. Probably because I actually hate fighting. But when we have a tiff or argument or brawl or whatever, I can never say what I actually want to say. I get all red faced and snotty and teary and it never comes out how I want it to. But when I write things down, they do come out how I want them to and I’m able to get my whole point out without being interrupted. That doesn’t mean that he actually reads or comprehends every word that I actually write (or usually type) out, but it means that I’ve been able to get it out. And who knows, maybe he goes back and actually re-reads them.

I was talking to a friend yesterday (who is one of those friends that I didn’t think would stay as close as she has after she moved away but it has been such a pleasant surprise for me!) and she made me realize, that I’ve probably already checked out. See, one of her friends from back home got a divorce almost a year ago. But before they were even separated, she was mentally and emotionally separated about a year before that. I think I’m there. In my mind, I’m preparing for the rest of my life and it doesn’t necessarily include Ryan. Not saying that it can’t, but when I think about having babies, I don’t think of him as the father. That sounds horribly mean and insensitive and for those of you reading this that think I’m a bitch, please know that I’m not. It’s simply the sad reality that my life has become. I’m not saying that there is someone that comes to mind when I think about the rest of my life and me being a mom and all that. But the fact is that when I think of my future with Ryan, it doesn’t include kids. I can’t see him being a good father or even being a father in general. I used to, and it breaks my heart to think otherwise. But when I see myself in the future, I do see me having kids. So I almost find it impossible to see the two futures together.

I was watching reruns of The Real Housewives of OC Monday on my day off (quality TV right?) and they were showing Jeana and Matt and how horribly miserable they are together. Matt even said, “I’d rather be wrong and miserable for the rest of my life than admit that I’m wrong and make myself happy.” What a horrible way to live. And what a horrible way to make the people around you live. Then it hit me…holy shit. I’m miserable and afraid to admit I made a mistake.

I keep flashing back to about 4 months before the wedding sitting in the GFS parking lot with my mom and breaking down to her that I just wasn’t sure. At that point I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get married or not. She told me it certainly wasn’t too late to, but I knew that it was either then or never so we stuck with our date. I know it would have been a lot easier to walk away then. There was a lot less involved. But I didn’t, and I’m here. And not quite sure what to do with myself . . . . . . . .