Song.

Lately music has been a huge comfort to me. I like driving around with the music turned up loud. I get lost in it. Sometimes I am able to forget, just for a second, that my world exists. I can let go and sing and cry, and forget how horrible and heavy my heart feels right now.

I heard a song on Pandora tonight as I was washing dishes (2nd time in a week. I know, right?) It's a song I've heard many times, but tonight as I listed to the lyrics I realized it sums up a lot of what I'm feeling: loss, pain, broken, victimized, more loss, and most of all like Jared is a complete stranger. I don't know him. I don't know if I ever did. The person he is now is not the man I fell in love with. It seems like overnight he has rewritten our past, claiming none of it was real. The one for me, the one I share 3 children with, is now just somebody I used to know.

Somebody That I Used To Know

Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end, always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad it was over

But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough
No you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

 Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something that I'd done
But I don't wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know

 But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough
And you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

Somebody
(I used to know)
Somebody
(Now you're just somebody that I used to know)

(I used to know)
(That I used to know)
(I used to know)
Somebody

Coincidence

I have no life. I haven't for some time. My life has been Jared. I don't really go out. I don't really have anyone to go out with. Friends? I have one, and she lives in Texas. Sure, I have surface friends, but only one could-trust-with-my-life-and-tell-my-deepest-secrets-to friend.

Jared has the kids on Friday nights. I hate it. I always think I'll look forward to it. You know, have some quality "me" time. But I miss the kids like crazy and usually end up drowning in my own tears, which then resorts to me showing up on my parents door step like a typical 30 year old girl who can't take care of herself. What makes it even worse is he won't let me call and talk to the kids or say goodnight. You would think one night out of seven isn't that bad, but I absolutely hate it.

A couple weeks ago I got a message from an old co-worker on Facebook. She wanted to go out on the upcoming Friday night. I was having so much anxiety about being away from the kids again, that I didn't hesitate to take her up on the offer. It was nice to get out. Instead of thinking about Jared and the whole situation every 10 seconds, I only did about every minute. It was a nice break for my brain.

A few days later one of my old high school friends text me asking if I wanted to join her and one of our other friends for dinner on Friday. Again, I was relieved to not have to worry about what I would do with my time away from the kids. After dinner we stayed at my friend's house talking and laughing until 12:30 in the morning. It was just what I needed. I was able to open up to them a little bit, hopefully not too much, and it brought back the feeling of how close we all used to be before we started having our own families.

Then, out of the blue, my best friend from my childhood sent me a message asking if I wanted to go to dinner sometime. I told her Fridays were my best night and she said they work great for her too. I know she's lying because she has a husband and two young children, but she was very kind to offer. My best friend is flying into town this weekend, so I told her the one after that would be great.

All this anxiety about Friday nights and all the sudden I have 4 of them in a row planned out. I really do feel like God is watching out for me. Although it doesn't change the harsh reality of my situation, or even make a dent in the depression I'm experiencing, it does help to know there are people out there that genuinely do care. I'm trying to find some light when I feel trapped in the dark. And 4 weekends in a row? I'll take that.

But You're A Cute Girl

I was sitting in a restaurant with my parents about 2 weeks after I found out about Jared. When we were getting up to leave, this girl, about 18 years old, came up to us and told me how beautiful I was. I broke down. Her mom told us her daughters had been staring at me throughout their dinner and could not get over my looks. They had to say something. I got to the parking lot and the tears were flowing uncontrollably.

If I am so beautiful then why do I feel like the ugliest girl in the world?

Why would Jared leave me? Why would he choose someone else over me? Why do I feel rejected and broken and abused?

I lost 17 pounds in December. I couldn't eat. Every time I put food in my mouth I would start gagging. It is really weird what stress can do to your body. The food I did manage to eat went right through me. My goal jeans became my falling off me jeans. I remember looking at my emaciated self in the mirror one night. Bags under my eyes. Legs of a 12 year old boy. Hips meant to birth 10 children. Arms that barely existed. A butt that didn't. A flat stomach I hadn't seen in years. I used to dream of having a flat stomach, and now that I had it I wanted my old one back. This new one represented pain and I hated it. I stared at my naked body and hated every last inch of it.

Since that night in the restaurant, I would say I get an average of 2-3 compliments a day on my looks. It is weird because I don't EVER remember this being the case before. I had one girl tell me I was one of the top 3 prettiest women she's ever seen. I've had men, married and single, tell me how beautiful I am. I've had customers take pictures of my hair, and comment that they probably couldn't pull it off as well because their jaw line isn't as defined as mine. I've had an insane amount of compliments revolving around my jaw line, which is so odd to me. I've been told how great my smile is, even though I haven't been doing much of that lately. I've been asked if my eyes are real, which is strange because my once big brown eyes have turned into a greenish-brown-gray mess. Today someone told me I had a "very good looking neck," which was weird and creepy...but you get the idea.

You would think these so-called compliments would be a boost for the old self-esteem, but they are not. They make me feel worthless. My eyes instantly fill with water when someone starts talking about my looks, and I have to talk myself out of running away to hide.

Anyone who is remotely aware of my situation tells me "You're a cute girl, you'll be fine." I have heard variations of that line a thousand times. It's an automatic response.

 "Jared left me. He's moved on."
"Well, he'll regret that. Look at you, you're a cute girl. You'll be just fine."

"Oh, come on. A cute girl like you? You could get anyone."
"Well that's funny because if it were true then I wouldn't be in the situation I'm in."

You're a cute girl? What does that even mean?  Since I couldn't keep Jared around with my good looks, then surely there must be something wrong with the rest of me.

Never mind that I might have a good personality, or a good heart, or any other good attributes. Apparently none of those things matter. What matters is something that has nothing to do with me as a person. It's something I can't even control. It doesn't matter what a person looks like on the outside; it has no real impact on the quality of life. Pretty or not, that doesn't make for much of a eulogy at a funeral. Well, she had good looks, so you know, she must have had a good life.

Do you get what I'm saying? I'm sure people are trying to be nice, but it seems like the most shallow thing you could say to someone. Each time I hear it my spirit shrinks a little inside. I interpret it as "Looks are all that matter anyway and if you can't find someone based on that then there really must be something wrong with you."

I do feel like the ugliest girl in the world. It's a feeling on the inside, and nothing anyone says about my outside appearance can shake this feeling. My soul is damaged, and I'm not quite sure how to fix it.

Tiny Miracles

I could go on and on about all the awful things I'm feeling. My heart is full of sadness and hatred and loneliness and darkness. I want Jared to be sorry for what he did. But the truth is that he is not.

I picked the kids up from daycare at 6:00 today. When we got home, the children helped me make dinner: pancakes, eggs, and bacon. I taught Zachary how to crack an egg. He proudly cracked 8 of them. I almost lost it. There are usually 2 out of 3 of them screaming or hitting at one point or another. Fixing dinner when we're all hungry and tired is always a circus. I almost didn't make it. I made all of them raise their hands and promise they wouldn't hit, they wouldn't tease, and they would show more love toward one another.  It lasted for about a minute. There was a huge blowup over who got what color of cup for dinner. I wanted to run upstairs to my room. My safe place. I wanted to crawl under my covers and cry. I wanted to give up. But I didn't. I finished cooking. I finished setting the table, and we ate dinner at the table as a family.

WE ATE DINNER AT THE TABLE AS A FAMILY

It still feels like someone is missing. It feels weird being the only adult in charge. I've done it alone for a long time since Jared has worked nights for so long, but this is a different kind of alone. It's a permanent, this-is-our-new-life alone.

After dinner, the children played while I did the dishes.

I DID THE DISHES.

Then we all got in our jammies and played a few rounds of Valentine Bingo
my visiting teachers had dropped by. Jagger didn't quite grasp the concept, but it was adorable to hear him shout out "Bingo!" The kids were laughing and having a good time. We sang a few primary songs and then kneeled down together in family prayer. I kissed all 3 of my babies and tucked them into bed.

And then I wept. I wept and I thanked my Heavenly Father, because we ate dinner at the table as a family. And I did the dishes. And we had a fun family night together. And that is more than I've been able to do in a long time. I have never experienced this kind of depression before. This kind of heartache and hopelessness. I feel like I have so much more on my plate than I can handle. I'm supposed to put on a smile and allow my children to feel loved and secure and happy, and I just can't do it all the time. I'm trying to focus my thoughts on the little things I accomplish, however small they may be, instead of beating myself up for everything I cannot.

 Tonight was full of tiny miracles.