Day 8

I had committed to writing my blog, one day at a time. Not skipping a single day. Well, that fell flat this weekend. Because even though I had time, I just couldn’t bring myself to go sit behind my computer and attempt to write my innermost thoughts and feelings with my husband, now very insecure (due to the notable infidelity issue) hovering over my shoulder. I did not want to explain what I write here. I did not want to leave it open for discussion and I sure as hell did not feel like justifying it.


Today is mostly marked by an incredible feeling of selfishness, guilt and rage. Who am I to think I am allowed any time, space or consideration for fixing me. My husband is staring a breakdown in the face and I can see and hear his desperation in everything he says and does. He wants it to be fixed; his life, but I cannot help him. I think he might be under the impression, I don’t want to. But for once I can’t fix everything. I can’t make it go away, like the speeding ticket, the bad debt and the dirty laundry. I can hardly be compassionate at this stage. Recovery means growing a pair. Sucking it up and facing the world and every demon you’ve ever avoided. One day at a time.