an update

Yes, it's been awhile since the last update. There have been days that I feel like I've taken two steps forward and then other's where I take one step back. All in all, what is important, I guess, is that I'm progressing, slowly but surely. I guess I was hoping that it would just progress, but surely the back and forth is what makes us human.

When I look back over the last 2 months, I see how hurt I've been. When something like this happens, it's like the other person has died, leaving you alone but then he's not dead and he's out there happy and has basically dumped you.

In the beginning I really felt like I must be a terrible person for him to not want me anymore and although I do have occasional instances when I still feel this way, most of the time I see thing differently.

I've learned it is not really about me. It's about him. How he feels about himself, how he needs something extra to make him feel like a man. He's grown a beard and let his hair grow. He doesn't even look like himself anymore.

I've realized that he is quite detached from his feelings and anyone else's feelings as a matter of fact. Everytime I see him it's because he wants something else. Needs something he has left behind. 3 times now, he has come with her in the car. Last time I told him to have a little respect and not bring her here.. that I'm not ready for that. He doesn't understand that it's painful for me to see my replacement sitting in our car in front of my house. He just answered.. "Bien, voyons- donc"! as if to say "Oh, com'on now.. be reasonable".

Reasonable? I'd been more than reasonable during all our marriage. I look back and see how much I bent over backwards trying to make him happy. If someone was making consessions, it was always me. He liked his clothes folded a certain way, sure.. I'll fold them like your mommy folded them! He liked things set up a certain way, no problem.. I'll do it your way.

I'm not much of a nag and didn't like to plead to get something done. If I could do it myself I would. He worked hard and I thought he deserved a break when he got home. I only worked part-time and had time to do extra things.

He never really liked to talk about his feelings.. or even knew how to express how he felt. I tried many times, it would always end up with him leaving the room and not wanting to discuss anything. Whenever we watched a movie that would have scenes where something that would happen would affect you emotionally.. and may even make you cry, he would start with the jokes. He never cried, I have not seen him cry once. I asked him once what would he cry for, and he answered me that he would cry when I died.. hmphf... well, not anymore I guess.

We had problems in the bedroom. He didn't have stamina and didn't want to talk about it much less seek help. We lived together before getting married and even though he was not a great lover, I didn't really have much experience and thought we would both learn and get better with time. In the very beginning, when we first got married, I thought maybe he was gay. When I asked him he was furious. He was tired and that was that.. and why did I need that much affection anyways? I was hurt but then thought .. geez, if I were married to a man and he had an accident or something, would I just leave him? no.. I learned to compromise. I gave him what he wanted, when he wanted it and held back when he needed me to and tried not to let him feel less of a man.

There is a French expression: "Jamais mieux servi que par soi-même!". It means never better served than by yourself. When I needed to I satisfied myself. It didn't replace the loving and touching from another human. I lacked that, I still lack that.

All through our marriage, I was always faithful, even though I had met great guys that were kind and caring and were interested in me. I never once turned.

I had always done things with my hands. I like creating things. Since the last 7-8 years though, I started going out and doing things that made me happy. I started singing with other people both modern and classcial music. I had no training but I enjoyed it. When I first started, I remember being very timid. I sat in front all quiet, all by myself and hardly even moved the air.

Slowly I tried to be more confident. I wanted the world to see the person I was inside. I was caring and funny and enjoyed people. I was quirky and loved art and creating art. I would push myself to be not afraid. To get up and speak in front of a crowd. I remember the very first time. We were doing a production and we were wearing some type of peasant clothes.. and they wanted us to wrap material around our waist several times. It was awful, cumbersome and uncomfortable.. most of all, the girls hated it. I hated it, it made us look like we were all expecting twins within the week.

At our "couturière", we had to go onstage while the director and the conceptor of the costumes watched us while we paraded back and forth beneath the lights on stage. Several of the girls had already passed and not a word was said. When I got on stage.. there was a glaring light in my eyes and they said, so .. like it? I remember feeling my heart pump in my chest and the feeling of being extremely nervous and I answered them telling how I didn't like it and thought it was not a good idea since we would be under such hot lights for more than 2 hours. They looked at each other and had the tiniest of conferences and said, you know, you are right! .. and we didn't have to wear them. I was so proud of myself. I hadn't put anyone down, but got my point across. I grew that day.

And I kept growing. I tried to do things that allowed me to become a strong person.

More and more I wanted to be myself and not have to walk on eggshells to make Syvlain happy. I wouldn't be mean but I stood up for myself. I think this bothered him. I was no longer subordinate.

This pains me to say but I guess it will put my point across. Often at night he would be too tired. In the mornings he was not too tired, but in a hurry. Of course, that meant he wanted to take care of himself and not have to care about me. He had started to would just rub himself on me and that was enough. It was enough for him, he wasn't overstimulated and it was fast. I hated it .. it made me softly cry when he left the room. I felt like a piece of meat. I remember late last fall, I finally said, no.. stop it! I don't want to be touched that way, I'm here too you know.

So, I guess I pretty much let him walk all over me. When I met him I was extremely shy and didn't have a lot of confidence in myself. So, if I have blame to take in this marriage, that is it. I let him have his way, and I spoiled him and pretty much gave him whatever he wanted but then I started to want more. I started to want to not be happy just for him, but be happy for me.

I had stuffed my feelings for so long.. that I was sometimes overwhelmed when I finally started to let myself feel again. I look back in this blog and smile to read how explain how I had kept my feeling as if in a little jar .. protecting myself from being hurt. When I finally let them out, I didn't want to stuff them back in again. I had done that too many times, this time I wasn't going to push myself back into that unfeeling place anymore. I was scared, I was vulnerable but I also felt strong. What changed in our marriage? I changed, I became a strong person. He didn't change. He didn't want to change and didn't appreciate my standing up for myself.

He would always say that I was too sensitive... but I've learned that I'm still sensitive.. but that you can be sensitive and strong too.

I used to think that being he was strong. Strong because he didn't cry.. didn't connect with his feelings. Well.. he wasn't strong at all, he was to weak to face his feelings and still too weak. When he talks to me, it's like we were never together. He doesn't see the hurt at all.

How many things I felt bad about... I wasn't the typical wife. I didn't make the same salary that he did. I was worth less. In reality, that's not true. This house was mine before I met him. He lived here and didn't have to pay a mortgage. Our furniture, mine. The piano, mine. Our bedroom set, mine. I walk around and the walls are covered with my paintings. The bedcover, I made. The curtains, I made. The smells of food whafting through the air, I created. I picked the raspberries for homemade pie. So..yes, he put up money to heat the house and made sure we had food on the table, but I also did my part. I also contributed to bills, to household items, fluffy towels, good sheets.. xmas gifts and any luxuries.I made our house a home. So I have nothing to feel guilty about. I may have made less money, but I did do my part.

I remember the first few days he left.. I walked around and cried.. his shoes were gone, his jacket was gone, personal effects. Then for almost 2 months I didn't sleep in my bed. I couldn't. It has only been a week now that I've slept in it. I've opened his empty drawers and put some of my clothes in them. It's a taking back of my space. It's a taking back of my air, trying to let myself feel like I still belong here.

Some small things have been liberating. The other night I sat at the piano. I am not a good piano player, but I enjoy it. It was past midnight and i started to play and just let myself be immersed.. and then I thought how free that felt. To be able to do something the moment you wanted without having to wonder if I was encroaching on someone's else space.

Many people have come to my aid. Most of them, people on line. Some just ask if I'm alright and check up on me. Some have offered their own stories and encourage me to
be brave and be happy. One person in particular actually tells me that I'm pretty terrific and makes me feel like I'm special. I allow these words to touch me .. to rock me and comfort me. They allow me to be brave, to be strong and to see goodness in the future, to believe that I'll be alright and perhaps one day be even better than I ever was.