Denial

I knew that Nemo was cheating/had cheated on me. I knew her name was Elvira. I knew she had blondish hair. I knew that she lived on the east side of town, and that he had met her at a bar.

He told me that there was nothing serious between them. He wanted to break it off with her, and she wasn't handling it well. I was in a shock for days. After that, Nemo made an effort to be home. I could tell that he was tormented, depressed. I was very pregnant at this point, and I chose denial. I don't think that my mind could handle the information. It still makes me sick to think about me sitting at home wondering where my husband was, while he was out (insert word of choice here) with his girlfriend. Anyway, I believed him when he said that it was over.

When Lucian was born, I turned into mommy mode. Everything I did at the time revolved around him (okay okay, alot of it still does even now). But you know, with a newborn, it really revolves around them.

Then I filed for divorce. I didn't really know alot of answers at the time. He denied everything but sleeping with Elvira once, his drug use, his depression (and had stopped taking the anti-depressants completely).

I started seeing a therapist. After our first meeting, it was like I could see for the first time. She gave me focus in my life. It's been the best money I've ever spent.

Two months after the divorce filing, not much had changed. Nemo was still out and about, doing whatever with whomever. Still not answering my calls, or speaking seriously to me about our situation. I really believed that he wasn't still seeing Elvira. I'm not sure why. I now think that the denial was my way of protecting me.

One night I came home from a dinner out with a friend, and Nemo had left a letter for me on the kitchen table. It went on and on how he had caused all of our problems, how he really needed help, how he had just realized how much he missed me, missed talking to me now that I wouldn't talk to him. I cried for a long time after reading that letter. I knew that none of this was my fault, however, he tried to blame me for it anyway. This letter freed me up in a way I can't explain. I still treasure it now.

I wrote him back. I said that each person gets to write their own destiny. You get to make choices everyday, good and bad. There are many forks in the road of your life. Sometimes good people made bad choices. I told him that I didn't know if I could ever take him back, but that I would like to work towards some kind of friendship. Or at least towards some kind of open communication.

He took my response incorrectly; he thought I wanted him back. I didn't correct him because I wanted to see how it would play out. He told me that he'd like to move back in (he had never really moved out - all of his clothing and personal items were still at home). I was hesitant. But I still believe that most marriages are worth fighting for. He said it would take him a couple of days before he'd be back for good. He said he needed a couple of nights to himself. I now realize that I knew then that he wasn't serious about saving our relationship.

A couple of nights later, he came home and stayed the night. He went to bed early. I made him sleep in the guest room. Before I went to bed, I was hopeful, thinking that maybe maybe somehow we could make this work.

My phone rang at 1:00 in the morning. I saw the caller id and I knew it was Elvira. I was groggy and in shock. I didn't answer. A minute went by and the phone rang again. This time I answered it. It wasn't Elvira, but a friend of hers.

I was in denial no more.

To be continued...