Heavy

A few months ago, I would be telling you how calm and satisfied my life is as I regularly meditate and do yoga and think mostly about all the good I'm planting in the world.  Nowadays, I've slacked in my practice and I'm unearthing some heavy things....dusty, calloused pieces of myself that I hardly recognize anymore. Gone are the days of light and free. They have been replaced with what can only be captured in print in with a capital letter as Realizations.

Weeks ago, I decided I no longer felt like being on a leash.  I left my iPhone in my car and walked free and clear for a few hours.  When I returned, there were at least 9 missed calls, all from the same number. My husband.  He is handsome, tall, smarter than most, extremely logical, methodical, and he is very, very insecure.  To add to his insecurity, I cheated on him.  It was years ago. I could linger in explaining the whys and the how it happened.  I could tell you all of the ways I was driven to it, but it probably would just make me look like I am making excuses. There is never any excuse to step out of a marriage. I feel horrible I broke my promise to be his and for him to be mine.

I also learned it's even worse to have an affair when your significant other is insecure and controlling.  In our nine years of marriage, he's proven it's a textbook case of Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder.  It only makes them happy.  I told him so.  I said to him, "Me cheating on you was the best thing that could've happened to a man who likes to control everything."  He readily agrees that it fed his desire to exert his power.  From then on, he would always know where I was, whether it was to the grocery store or to a playdate for the kids.  He would always check my phone calls.  He would print me lists and ask me to detail each caller.  He would lowjack my car with some device to know exactly where it was at every moment.  He would rig our house with recording devices.  He would call my work and ask when I left or if I was working at all. And out of disgust with my own past behavior, my infidelity, I obliged.  I tried to give him everything he wanted to make him comfortable again.  Then, I assumed, I would eventually be forgiven, I'd regain some of his trust, and we could move forward.

What I've learned is that it's just not possible.  Once you've broken that trust, for some, it's irreparable.  It lingers everywhere. Anytime we have a disagreement, all arguments point back to the adulteress.  Blame and shame.

Heavy things.

At some point you just say, "I've done all I can do."  I've compromised.  I've changed. I've grown.

I don't want to be treated this way.  I want to return to the things that I love and I want to be loved unconditionally.