Today is a less cheerful kind of day, maybe because of the clouds and dampness, maybe because I have the whole weekend looming ahead, I don’t know. We had a bit of a scare yesterday with the baby, Hannah wasn’t feeling her moving as much as she had been, so we took her in the the birthing center after work yesterday (Jacquie went with us) to make sure everything was all right. Baby Girl is fine, good strong heartbeat and she did NOT like having the monitor strapped on Hannah; it pissed her off and she really started moving like crazy after that. Still, it was NOT a wasted trip; no matter what the age, a first baby is a first baby, and peace of mind is no small thing, for any one of us. Her doctor came in before she left to look at the strips from the NST and to reassure her that everything was fine, and he is just the kindest doctor in so many ways. I was impressed, too, that the nurses did not treat Hannah like she was hysterical, but were instead very reassuring and encouraged her to come back if she was at all concerned about anything. It bodes well for her ultimate labor/birth experience, and I am grateful for that.
Still, as good as that is, the knowledge that the baby is okay and that Hannah is okay, I am still feeling really sad today. I had asked Steve a couple of days ago, via email, if he had ever REALLY loved me, and I don’t know why it is important for me to know that, but it is. Of course he never replied, and no answer IS the answer, right? So now in addition to having been left, and precipitously, I now have to figure out how to deal with the knowledge that it was basically all a lie. I have written here about the feeling of having been used by him, and now it just hits home all over again that all we were to him was a means to an end. He needed a place to go until he could get off probation, and-well. I just feel so, so stupid, because shouldn’t I have known that? Yes, I think I should have; it wasn’t the first time he had done something like that, and I don’t know why I really thought it would be any different this time. And that? Is all on me. I can’t blame him for my stupidity, my naive belief that he had actually wanted to move in because he realized that he did, in fact, love me, and wanted to be part of my life. Ha.
So easy for people to say that it is his loss, but really, it isn’t, because he doesn’t care. He got what he wanted, which was a place to stay for a year until he could get himself together a bit, and then when he felt like he was ready, we no longer registered on his radar. Simple, isn’t it? to say that it was his loss, but that would imply that he actually felt like he lost something-but that indicates a level of feeling that he never felt, so really, whose loss is it? Not his, but ours. Oh, he has Owen-unless he is drinking while Owen is WITH him, I will not ever prevent him from seeing Owen; the thing I don’t understand is why he felt like he had to move in here and live a lie in order to have access to Owen, you know?
What it is, then, is MY loss. Again, easy for people to say “you will be better off,” and perhaps on some level that might be true. However, it isn’t true in this moment, and I am weighted down by grief today. You see, I gave so much of myself to him, because I love him and thought he loved me. I gave him more than I have ever given anyone, including my two previous husbands, and I let him in to the point I swore i would never get to again with a man. It is hard for me to be in a relationship, partly due to the violence and abuse inflicted on me when I was a child by various men but also because my second marriage was so, so horrible, and while I know I was FAR from perfect in the relationship, I felt like I had come a really long way. I was starting to trust him, not just in general terms but with the secret parts of me, you know? And-a lie, a lie, a lie.
Still, what to do? Nothing. Try to deal with the way this makes me feel, which is betrayed, shitty, embarrassed (certain people might well be saying I deserve this for being so stupid, I know), lonely, foolish, so sad that it hurts me to breathe. I said the other day that I don’t regret this last year, but I think I do-because I loved the wrong person foolishly and consequently caused a lot of grief to all of them. Because I wrongfully let myself believe that I really could finally have what and who I wanted, because I believed in love. And maybe now at 38 years old it is time, finally, to accept that I get to have my kids, and get to have a job I like, and get some new opportunities for work, but that it is going to have to be enough.