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  • Adam 2:25 am on October 9, 2014 Permalink |
    Tags: battle, , , downhill, fighting, heavy, scared,   

    It Doesn’t Seem to get Easier 

    I was supposed to go to a depression workgroup today. My therapist recommended it. I showed up and it was 32 women and myself. The room was overcrowded and a disorganized and bored looking women starting explaining a 10 week class with homework and worksheets and all sorts of stuff. I felt stifled and uncomfortable.

    After the introduction she gave some alternatives and let some people leave. I took the alternative. I’m going to try a six session class and see if that’s a little more palatable. I think it’s an okay compromise and I’m can’t imagine it’s worse.

    Each day I’m struck with how things don’t seem easier. I seem to get heavier (emotionally) my workouts have been more difficult, it may have something to do with my medication.  I felt such an uplift after I finally heard something from Carrie that for a few days I was so happy not to be going insane that even the bad news I received still was a relief.

    Now the further reality sets in. God I miss her. I see her face, I smell her. I pat the bed where she should be. I’m constantly afraid that she will forget me, replace me, move on. I love her deeply and I have had to realize that my hurtful actions struck her more than I ever imagined. I question whether or not I even deserve her. But I do want to become the person that deserves her.

    Every day I’m filled with doubt, every day I’m scared. I don’t know how much of a life like this I can stand. I tell myself I have to be strong. Start acting like that person that I need to be someday.

  • Adam 7:04 pm on October 2, 2014 Permalink |
    Tags: bookcase, fighting, funny, karly, , sad, skin   

    Petting the Bookcase 

    I’ll start out with something that’s SO sad, that it almost comes right around to funny. I fell asleep last night petting a bookcase.  No, you read that right.

    For a little explanation. I’ve had to move out of my house. Carrie doesn’t want me around and I don’t really blame her. I imagine the rift between us would be  even bigger if we were in the same house. I’m staying with my longtime/childhood friend Cliff. He doesn’t emote much, he’s a guy that kind of keeps in all inside, but I find his steady presence comforting and they’ve made a room for me in the house. Could be for a few weeks, could be for a few months. We haven’t gotten that far yet.

    I have a bed, a desk, my computer, and a bookcase. It’s a rather plain and frankly ugly looking bookcase but it holds all my things pretty well.

    I spoke with Karly yesterday. She’s one of Carrie’s best friends and a friend of mine. I know her whole life has been eaten up by everything that’s going on and I know she’s suffered as well. Part of me desperately wants to make amends to my friends and the people I’ve hurt in this. Mostly to Carrie but she wants nothing to do with me right now.

    I reached out to Karly and we met and I told her everything that’s going on with me. Exercising every day, health classes, therapy, eating right, and at some point it turned to the events that happened. She raked me over the coals a bit (I think it’s her job as best friend of the wronged). I also made an apology. She’s been the victim of my ‘habits’ for a long time. Which are flirting, groping, and generally being overly-sexual with women. Karly herself does some of these things too, to be honest. I think this made me more bold with her than I was with most people. So she’s probably suffered my attentions way more than some.

    I apologized for the way I’ve treated her and the many times I’ve made her uncomfortable. It was moderately cathartic although incredibly awkward. Mostly I’ve heard more of what I’ve been hearing “Carrie is devastated, she’s hurt, she wants nothing to do with you”.

    The whole conversation left me where I started. With no additional hope. However I did reiterate that I desperately want to fight for this marriage. That I believe Carrie is the person I want to be with and that whatever I have to endure to get back in her good graces is something I will gladly take on.

    Last night. I fell asleep petting a bookcase. I imagined it was her skin and her face. One of my favorite things to do was to fall asleep ‘petting’ her. I would run my fingers along her back and her sides and enjoy how soft her skin was. Occasionally she would sigh with pleasure and I would feel incredibly content.

    I missed this so much I reached out to anything around me. This ugly bookcase. It’s dry and has a lumber-like texture. It doesn’t hold a candle to Carrie. It helped me fall asleep though.

  • Adam 8:14 pm on September 26, 2014 Permalink |
    Tags: career, disneyland, , ecstasy, , fighting, finances, job, , money, pain, , shame, vacation, walking, wheelchair   

    Phase 8: Ask and Ye Shall Receive 

    Quickly enough, I found a job, not just a job… A great job. For an educational company, making really good money. Suddenly, everything seemed possible.

    I had money coming in, I could pay my bills, I could pay her bills. I could afford groceries and I could treat her kindly for a change. I was so glad that my life had turned around so quickly that I just wanted to make everything about Carrie for a bit.

    I took her to Disneyland for vacation. We ended up walking around so much that first day that I was in agony. I was still 350 pounds, and after 12 solid hours of walking the dream vacation turned into a nightmare. My ankles, my knees, my hips, were on fire. I felt like I was walking on knives.

    Carrie was so excited about Disneyland that she didn’t want to abandon her hopes and dreams because I was “sore” she tried to talk me into getting up at 6am and going back to the park the very next day and doing it all over again. I got mad, we yelled, we fought. I told her “I can’t do this”. Eventually she relented and let me sleep in a bit and to take it slow the next day. The next day stretched into 9-10 hours of walking and I was almost worse off than before. I was dying on my feet and I was so scared of another day of this that I was ready to fake a heart attack to get out of it. We fought again.

    That next day I tried to go out again and perform this miracle a third time. Carrie was trying so hard to make this happen. She offered to get me a wheelchair. So that I wouldn’t have to walk. I felt embarrassed but I figured if it’s the only way for her to be happy that I’d give it a try. We awkwardly went up to the counter at Disneyland and asked about renting a wheelchair. They didn’t ask any questions they just rented us a chair and they wheeled one out. Of course, it was too small.

    They went back and brought out an XL chair, for people like me. You know, people that don’t even fit in normal wheelchairs. I sat down and awkwardly placed my feet in the stirrups. Then of course the reality set in. How do we move this damn thing? It’s a giant chair with 350 pounds in it. I tried spinning the wheels myself but I could make about 1 mile an hour at best. Carrie as a trooper just started pushing me. This next 5-10 minutes was some of the most shaming and awful of my entire life.

    My wife huffing and puffing, straining and grunting to maneuver me through a theme park. As I sat with my feet up and tried to look sheepish. Wondering if everyone saw this and thought I was injured, lazy, or retarded. We barely had made it inside the park when I just called a stop. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t spend the next 10 hours listening to my lovely wife shove me around a park while sounding like she’s pushing a boulder uphill. I would rather hurt.

    I silently popped about 5 ibuprofen and we returned the chair. Knowing what the alternative was now, I had decided to suffer through. I was careful not to wince or complain or to even show how much it hurt. I stumbled around we saw some more of the park. Mostly I tried to do what she wanted but I was in almost constant agony. Eventually we took some Ecstasy we had smuggled into the park toward the end of the night, and in a haze of artificial happiness and a complete lack of pain, we rounded out the night and ended on a good note. The next day we flew home in a fog and started living life again. I didn’t even really think about it for a few days.

    Then I would think about that wheelchair and how hard it was for Carrie to move me and the feelings I felt floating along and feeling miserable while she carried me.

    I guess it felt like a little too perfect of a metaphor.

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