Everybody Knows That The Dice Are Loaded


Everybody knows that you love me baby

Everybody knows that you really do

Everybody knows that you've been faithful
Oh, give or take a night or two

Everybody knows you've been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet

Without your clothes


-Leonard Cohen

I am being consumed by this, swallowed whole.  I live this life, stuck and not wanting to get unstuck, because I know the only way that happens is when her cancer runs its course.  I think about two things every day, all the time, pancreatic cancer, and the betrayal.  I am convinced my vertigo is a direct result of the constant stress I have been under these last several months.  I don't feel strong enough to do this. But I don't have an alternative.  

Jenny is upstairs on the phone with Big Sisters, laughing hysterically.  Earlier tonight a teacher friend dropped by and they had a good old time.  Jenny, not suffering from the chemo, is in high spirits.  Meanwhile, with or without her chemotherapy, I am lost and adrift.  She has no real guilt about this, feels no compunction or obligation as we are 3 months into our 31st year together. I ask the same question every single day.  How can a person who claims to love you, intentionally hurt you day after day?  How can she even believe she is my friend?  What friend would think it okay to intentionally hurt another? What the actual fuck am I supposed to do?  

I feel like I'm lost in a maze, the kind I used to draw as a kid, which always left out any way to get in or out.  I move through the puzzle, thinking if I use logic I will eventually escape.  But logic doesn't matter, the puzzle isn't solvable.  I can't stop trying to figure it out.  How do I get out of this?. How do I solve for X?

"Betrayal is the only truth that sticks"
― Arthur Miller

"Only cream and bastards rise"
― Paul Newman

This too shall pass.  And I will have to learn how to trust again.  Right now, I don't know how I will ever do that. I can't shake the feeling I am a patsy, a mark, a pigeon.  It's been with me, this feeling, for as long as I can remember.  I've been proven right, so there's that. I am not down in the mouth. Not some mealy-mouth, morose, self-pitying fool.  I am in this situation, and I hate it. I hate the idea that Jenny is dying.  I hate the idea she doesn't love me anymore. I hate the idea that she continues the affair. I hate the idea that she gaslights me. I hate that my kids have to watch all of this. I hate feeling so helpless.  Even so, I am not sitting around moping, hand against my forehead muttering, "woe is me."  To the world, I am functioning.  I am fine. I continue on.  I don't pity myself, I could be dying of cancer and cheating on my wife, leaving the wreckage of emotional harm in my wake.  But happiness and contentment are as far away from me now as the center of the galaxy.   And that.  .   . I hate. 


Location: Seattle, WA, USA

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