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Entry locked until 05.01.09
11:01 PM, Saturday, May 24th, 2008:
<shaking head, staring at the laptop>
Really. That actually happened. Loading the car with Michelle's help as if I'm some monster. Ready for this set-up?
So we wake up the day of the premiere. She asks: "What are you wearing?". I said, I have no idea... probably black pants, nice shirt... I have very limited attire. After many moments of silence I figure that's the end of the conversation. I go about my day. Check my email, make some coffee.
We're out on the front porch drinking coffee. She calmly says she needs to talk to me about something. She was very hurt that I was so rude this morning by ignoring her. ? Apparently the conversation was supposed to continue and I didn't. So I search for a continuation of "What are you wearing?" and I asked her what she was wearing tonight, how was she gonna do her hair... which is apparently what she was hoping she could've baited me on this morning: "Why does it matter how I do my hair? Do you want me to wear makeup?"
Before we go into how fun THIS day was, realize that this was not a shock to me. Hell I wrote about it specifically the night before I picked her up from the Buddhist temple. This was always a matter of time. The 10 days since she came back, though peaceful, have really been her attempt to show that she doesn't need to see a therapist and that she's FINE! I've stayed out of her way, and to her credit with a little meditation in the morning... things have been cool. <thursday=/cool>
So she brings up the make-up thing, something she has been against since she returned. I could honestly give two shits at this point. She's a gorgeous woman, with a fuckton of issues and if she feels better not wearing makeup? Let's have a make-up bonfire. Happy wife, happy life. But I was done placating her like this was completely normal behavior. She clearly needed to speak to a therapist. So when she started in, I just spoke very bluntly. The back and forth inevitably got her to the point she wanted all along where she proclaimed: "I'm never wearing make-up again for the rest of my life, do you have a problem with that?"
<dripping sarcasm> "That's gonna make your acting career difficult"
<being serious now> "Honey, you really need to speak with someone. You have some serious issues you can no longer ignore. In the past 2 months you've gone from therapy to the mental hospital to a buddhist temple - you're spinning."
But she wouldn't let go - and demanded I answer if I would have a problem with her never wearing makeup again and I point blank said: "Of course I would. 'Cause it's a sign of ANOTHER problem." But she got her answer. So we go to the premiere. She is certainly sans make-up and she proceeded to tell me the following morning how several men "looked" at her so it was ME with the problem. All of which made it clear it was finally time. When I said there was "no turning back" in December, I meant it. If she wasn't willing to go to therapy I could no longer spin in circles. After a somewhat isolated day I tell her that it's time to start to work through an exit strategy of some sort. Clearly this isn't working, and we need to find a way to be happy... apart. Not seeing eye to eye is one thing... we can't even see eye to foot. She looked at me and said: "I'm sorry, I was fucking crazy there - I know I was, please give me another chance here. I was very stubborn... etc. etc." (hmm, do etc. go IN the quotation marks? sorry...) I looked at her and figured why the hell not. I've been around this horn 34 times, 35 is nothing. At this point it was more about allowing her a moment to not feel slighted. I always have the ability to empathize and I know how hard she's been trying since she got back from the temple. Even though it's the exact same shit, in her mind this was just one slip-up. But she knew where I stood.
Incredibly, today, the identical make-up argument starts again. And I was in no "kid gloves" mood to temper my words. I was not gonna walk on eggshells anymore. She asked if she looked better with make-up on and I said: "Yup, that's the point of MAKE-UP". Realize, never, in our time together, have I EVER asked her to put make-up on. But today, I was not gonna play into her issues. Of course her eyes stood out more when she put eye-liner on. She was a professional make-up artist in South Africa for fuck's sake. Again, I'm silly to even get into this argument in written form because it's about as obvious as fighting with a 9 year old. This is clearly a deeper issue. But I did say she looked better with make-up on. So she left me.
She made a big huge fight out of all of it - called Michelle and moved in with them. Even though yesterday I had calmly set-up a scenario where we could do this civilly she had to make it dramatic. And no matter how contrived I can't help but sit here and think: "Really." After months of babysitting a suicidal spouse and being patient through every, single, issue that she could throw at me... she can't return the courtesy for my "supposed" indiscretion of saying something as inconsiderate as "when you put sexy make-up on you look sexy." And even as I type that, again, I know that's not why she ran out no matter what charade she just put on. And bringing Tyson & Michelle into this? Great I lose a wife and my best friends now. Good times.
The biggest nut cruncher in all of this is that I knew exactly what was going to happen before it happened... and it still hurts me. Love, fucking, blows.
<an hour later after reading some of the locked entries in March>
"If she walks out of this house alive, I've succeeded. 'Cause either way, we won't make it"
The Journey heals again. When you step away from the minutiae of it all you remember just how bad it was 2 months ago. When my only goal was to get her on her feet, allow all her defense mechanisms to go back up and lift her to safety - even if it was a delusion. 'Cause breaking down the walls in therapy doesn't mean shit if it literally kills you. So in essence, I succeeded today. She is OK. She is alive. I did everything I could. It's time to take care of me and go through the unbelievably painful process of letting go.
But I'm still fucking livid - lol. Really. You... left ME? LOL.