Full Disclosure is Not Necessary

I learned something at my S-Anon meeting this morning.  I had convinced myself that I was going to have to get all the details of my husband's sexual "acting out" before I could really move on in my own recovery.  But after I put that out today in the meeting, I learned that it's not a necessity.


One of the ladies said she doesn't WANT to know what's going on in her husband's mind.  And if he feels the need to share something that he's thinking or has done, she asks him to check in with his sponsor before he does it, and then she makes sure that he knows that she doesn't want to know all of the gory details of something he saw that triggered him or what went through his head when he saw a particular movie, etc.


What I have concluded is that, in my own situation, I'm just going to say, "Fuck whatever Michael did before his recovery."  Unless there is something that he did that was illegal or that put me in physical danger (i.e. sex outside the marriage that could compromise my physical health), I don't want to know.  I don't need the details of how it all started when he was younger, or how he got to where this all blew up in our faces.  The only good that would come of him telling me any of that is that HE would probably feel immensely better.  And you know what?  That's bullshit.  He can tell his sponsor or the guys in his group and admit all his transgressions.


I, as his wife, have no need to know all the gruesome details, especially when I know myself and I know that I will go over and over it again and again in my head and it will drive me crazier than I already am about all this stuff.


So that's one fear I can take off my list.  The fear of knowing.  Of knowing all the (possibly) disgusting, lurid, details of my husband's sexual acting act.  I'm already scarred enough from what I DO know, and I know enough to know that he's a sex addict.  Isn't that all I need to know at this point?  Why subject myself to any more pain by asking him for any more details?

Memories of Holly

I've been needing to write this post for awhile, and though it probably won't be interesting to anyone but me- it needs to be put down on paper before I forget about all the wonderful memories I have of my dearly departed kitty, Holly Molly Cottontail.


I think list format will be the easiest...here goes:

• She had the worst kitty breath!
• She was so malleable; you could dance with her and rearrange her on your lap and she would just stay there.
• She was all black, but she had several little white hairs on the front of her chest.
• She liked to jump on my shoulders and let me carry her around like that, especially after I took a shower and she would suck on my wet hair.
• She used to rub her mouth against my face and I could feel her little wet lips against my skin.
• She liked to help make the bed.
• She had a portal-- every time my husband and I were out, we would see another black kitty (because they're everywhere), and we'd say, "Look, it's Holly!  She must have come through her portal!"  And then she would always be back at home when we got there.  We said she was saving the world by going through her portal.
• She had a boyfriend- Pauly C.  He was a black cat that lived outside our house, and Holly would stand by the back door/window and look for him.  One time we came home, and Pauly C. was jumping out of the bushes by our bedroom and we joked that he must've sneaked inside to have a romantic date with Holly.
• She loved ample bosoms!  She loved to curl up on the top of an ample set of knockers (ha!) like they were a table or a shelf where she could lay.
• She was fondly referred to by one of my previous roommates as "Puppy Kitty," because she acted more like a dog than a cat.
• She liked to stretch out on the floor and show us how long she could be: I used to say, "Look how long you are!!!"
• She had rabbit legs-- my other cat, Bella, has chicken legs.  But Holly had rabbit legs.  When she would lay on her back, her back legs would curl up like little rabbit legs.
• She LOVED wet food.  I mean, sometimes I swear she would skip the dry food altogether just to make me give her wet food.
• Her perfect day was to be curled up in a "cave" under the bedroom covers.  She went under the covers and made herself a tent and settled in.  We always had to check for lumps on the bed before sitting down for fear of smushing her.
• She liked to sit like a peanut.
• She was very sociable.  She would come out and meet anyone who came over.  My brother once slept over and she crawled all over him all night while he slept.
• She was probably the only cat that ever really "got" the idea of a scratching post.  She would really go at those things.  Which is not to say she wouldn't destroy furniture, because she did that, too!
• She loved dogs.  She was the first cat to warm up to any dog that she ever lived with.
• She hated to let me be on my laptop without her also being in my lap!
• She loved one of my old roommate's fuzzy purple pillow.  When I moved, the roommate gave me the pillow as a gift for Holly.  It was the sweetest thing, and I cried and cried.

That's all I can come up with for now.  She's been gone for two weeks and I am still grieving.  It's so much easier due to the fact that I am living in a condo on my own, but when I move back to my and my husband's house, it's going to start all over again, and 10 times worse, I imagine.  I don't have many memories of her here, but I have thousands of those at home.  That's probably going to be the hardest part about moving back, honestly.  I guess there's no need to worry about that now, though.  That's not going to happen for at least another 5 months.  Why work myself up about it now?

Self Care Goals

Believe me, I'm not totally over Holly's death.  But I am getting to the point where I am starting to get back to normal.  There have been some things I have been meaning to write down (that aren't related to Holly).  One of those topics is self care.


I realize that one of the main routes to high(er) self esteem is self care.  And I am aware that self care doesn't really have to be all that difficult, and yet I don't really do much of it.  And that which I DO do, I don't do on a regular basis.

So rather than write this list in my little notebook that I carry around with me, I decided to put it into words on my blog.  Some of this stuff may sound a little ridiculous, but even simple things escape me sometimes, especially in stressful times (like now).

• Take a shower at least every other day.
• Paint my fingernails occasionally and remove old polish when it starts to chip.
• Keep toenails clipped and occasionally painted.
• Apply Retinol cream under eyes every night.
• Keep eyebrows groomed.
• Re-vamp wardrobe.
• Wash face before bed, even if it just means using those face wipe things.
• Play around with clip in hair extensions I got.
• Play around with makeup that I have and see if I can come up with a simple way to wear it on occasion.
• At least wear mascara and lip gloss everyday.
• Wear new, clean underwear every day.
• Before I actually have time/money for my new wardrobe, wear the best outfits I can come up with with what's already in my closet.
• Throw away any and all clothes/socks/underwear with holes or that just aren't flattering at all.
• Wear more skirts/dresses.
• Brush teeth every day, even if I am not going out anywhere.
• Use sleep apnea machine (CPAP) every night.
• Wear perfume everyday that I go to work, even if that means my supply is dwindling.
• Exercise more, eat better.

So, obviously, some of these things are more important than others.  I'm not going to try to tackle everything all at one time, even though I feel like most people are able to do these things without consciously thinking about them.

The exercise and eating better are monumental, I know, but those that will probably be the hardest to change.  That would make my new wardrobe plan more exciting.  But whatever.  I need to work on the way I present myself outwardly or I will never feel better about myself inwardly.  I really, really can't wait to get some new clothes.

As for getting in the "mood" to wear dresses, I don't know how one does that.  I have dresses and skirts that are cute, but I can't seem to ever be in the mood to wear them.  It's just so much damned work.  I do need to get some slips and pantyhose...maybe if I just bit the bullet and got those things from my clothing budget, I would be more likely to wear the nicer clothes that I already own.


EDIT: SOME GOALS I FORGOT!  DUH!

• Shave legs WAY more often.  Even though it's winter.
• Floss more often.

Fuck the Flow

Holding my seven year old cat in my arms while she was put to sleep "peacefully" was the worst moment of my life.  Watching her eyes blacken and feeling her body go limp...indescribable.  Having my estranged husband there didn't make it any better for me, but I am grateful that he was able to be there for her last moments.  He deserved to be there as much as I did.

Fuck working on this S-Anon shit.  Fuck the flow.  Fuck self help and working on the marriage.  At this point, I don't give a motherfucking shit about the marriage.  In fact, I am more upset about losing my poor cat than I was about "losing" my husband.

I'm angry.  Angry that she died so young.  Angry that I didn't pick up on the signs sooner.  Angry and resentful that months earlier, I had continuously commented to my husband that she was looking thinner and he assured me that she was fine.  Angry that I don't have many good memories of her in this condo because she spent most of the time wasting away under the bed.  Angry that my other cat no longer has her best friend.  Angry that I still have to go through everyday trying to pretend like I'm OK.  Angry at people who think she was "just a pet."

I'm depressed.  I'm worse than depressed.  I'm depressed that she's gone.  I'm depressed that I will never get to hold her again.  I'm depressed that she's not waiting for me in my bed every night.  Depressed that my other cat is now alone.  Depressed that she won't come running when I open a can of wet food.  Depressed that even if I get through the grieving process in this condo, I will have to go through it ALL OVER AGAIN when I move back home.  Depressed remembering how when I was driving her to the emergency vet, part of me KNEW that it was the end.  Depressed remember driving home, alone.

I feel guilty.  Guilty for not taking her to the vet earlier.  Guilty that I gave the new kitten, Godot, to my brother because I couldn't bear the thought that he was a "replacement" cat, therefore leaving my other cat lonely.  Guilty that I took her away from her home and away from my husband and he didn't get to see her in her last few weeks.  Guilty that WE CHOSE TO KILL HER.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, we stopped her suffering, we made the right decision, but that doesn't mean I don't feel guilty about the fact that we both made the decision to END HER LIFE.  She had no choice in the matter.

I just want her back.  I JUST WANT HER BACK, GODDAMMIT.  This is BULLSHIT BULLSHIT BULLSHIT.  FUCK THE MOTHERFUCKING FLOW.