And You May Tell Yourself, "This is not my beautiful wife"

Same As It Ever Was.

Entry 1

Jenny has just returned from the chiropractor.  She came in, acting clearly and looking guilty.  She has with Eric the pinché motherfucker.  I have to let it go. She thinks I'm stupid, she must, or simply doesn't give a fuck or both.  It's tiring, and I just don't understand.  I just don't.  She really doesn't give a fuck about me. I spend my days caring for her when she is debilitated, I have come back home to keep her from killing herself because she has been suicidal. And. It. Just. Doesn't. Stop. To be clear, I am not pleased that she is seeing him, but that is not what is upsetting. She gave me her word she would tell me when she was seeing him, and has never kept that promise.

Jenny is feeling remarkably better.  I must note that she hasn't brought up Eric the pinché motherfucker, except to suggest he come move the desk and the couch on Saturday, if I am not interested in doing it.  Which, tells me all I need to know--besides the fact that she is insane.

At this point, I am just stuck.  I have to continue to separate, but also continue to make sure she is safe and well-cared for when she needs it.  I am working to accept she loves another, and patently reject the claim that she loves two people and her attendant demand that I just pretend this isn't happening.  It is. I can't.  And she doesn't love me anymore.

Having told the the pinché motherfucker's wife, I had hoped that if anything could solve this intractable refusal to stop fucking me over and causing me harm, that her knowledge of the affair would do it.  But, this isn't a logic problem.  This isn't if X then Y.  I did the X, telling her, and got Zed instead.

She likely thinks she has the best of both worlds now.  I am led to believe it's over, which is what she told me on Monday night, when it isn't.  It isn't. Which means she thinks I am living her ideal, pretending that this isn't happening.  She may have fooled me for what is now entering the 4th year, but she isn't sneaky.  She just isn't.  I was willfully blind.  I trusted her.  I believed her.  The betrayal is so great, I can't understand that she has no remorse, and feels fully justified in her actions. In fact, she puts the blame on me.  That, I cannot forgive. I will put it aside, and continue to care for this woman who is terminally ill, to make sure that she gets the care she needs. I love her more than she will ever understand.  Why she continues to neglect the children, to hurt them and me, I just don't know.

I have therapy at 4.  The therapist has no idea that I told the wife, that Jenny attempted to attempt suicide, and that she is continuing to see Eric the pinché motherfucker.  She will not be surprised by the last, but she will be surprised by the first, and likely skeptical of the second.

On other matters.  .  . Jenny's sisters arranged to rid us of the oak roll top desk and the sleeper couch in the office on Saturday. Chris is coming with Melissa's truck. However, they didn't arrange muscle. This all happened since Tuesday.  I made it clear to Jenny I don't think I can move the desk.  She was angry last night that I haven't reached out to anyone to help.  She hadn't asked before so the anger was misplaced, hence I shrugged it off.  She said, "I have to have a hard conversation, do you want Eric the pinché motherfucker to come and move it?"  I told her, I don't want that man in my house, and left it there.  She tried to loop in Cam, but he isn't available, apparently going hiking on Saturday with his daughter Nova in Bellingham.  

Today she texted that she is cancelling the Saturday move, and hiring movers, which was Leiney's idea, floated yesterday.  Leiney made it clear it didn't seem wise during Covid to have several random people here, who don't know how to move furniture, and it would be better to have professionals do it.  Jenny apparently listened.

Unrelated: Yesterday I told Abby that from now on we are simply having her drive each night at 5 pm. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Life, A Cascading Series of Disappointment

Image
Jenny has cancer.  Terminal cancer.  We learned that in late July. Jenny had  dropped 25 lbs. in the spring without trying.  She had been having vague stomach complaints since October.  As a balm for her concerns, her doctor agreed to do a CT scan for her, but told her they would find nothing.  Jenny wanted to rule out pancreatic cancer, which had recently killed her dad-in the spring of 2019.  Her mother had been sick with lymphoma since February 2020.  The day of the scan, the doctor told Jenny they would get results back in a few days. When Jenny's phone rang that same afternoon, I was in the living room with Abby, where I was torturing her by playing the Rapping Duke on Youtube. Jenny shouted from the room, "Geoff, get in here, the doctor's on the phone." "You have a four cm. mass on your pancreas,"  he said. Jenny made a sound like someone had punched her in the stomach.  "There is a spot on your liver. You have a necrotic lymph nod...
Read more

Still Muddling Through Somehow

Image
At the park, I walked my dog through the rain this morning— not really proper rain— more like air that has decided to shrug water at you out of habit. It suited my mood well enough. As I walked, my thoughts kept returning to the same small universe they often do. They are not new thoughts. They orbit the same losses. They consider the same betrayals, the same questions that never resolve. They have been captured, these thoughts, never to escape, never to be forgotten, never to burn up in the atmosphere. It is simply the gravitational field of my life now. What might seem or feel like self-pity is more like muscle memory, which tells me I need more exercise. The holidays are here, and Christmas has always been central to my life, atheist that I am. It was stitched into Jenny’s life — the love of Christmas — at least as strongly as it was stitched into mine. We carried that love forward with the kids, year after year, without ever needing to talk about why it mattered; it just did. I...
Read more

Don't Do It, Don't Do It, Oh, Lord

Image
It Hurts, It Hurts So Bad.  .  . 3:44 a.m. I walked in the door last night at just before 10 to find Jenny in a ball on the floor--between the giant ottoman and sectional--agonizing pain in her hip. I had ridden to acting with the student driver.  But, let's back up. Jenny had chemo yesterday.  Her friend Jennifer took her.  It was uneventful and she received chemo.  I, as always, prepared the house for her arrival to make sure she wanted for nothing and would be comfortable as she endures the aftermath of all that poison.  Sometime before she came home, she texted, saying the doctor suggested she try Aleve for her hip pain.  Aleve.   She asked me to pick some up for her while Abby was at acting.   During the text exchange I realized she would be alone after Abby and I left for acting.  Leiney was elsewhere and had therapy at 5 and kickboxing later, and her sister Moni had bailed on chemo because she had so much to do (Wit...
Read more