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When the worst is true

I got what I didn’t want. Confirmation that my husband left me for another woman. Not just any woman. A friend. Our friend. Someone I used to work out with. Someone who went on my Bachelorette weekend trip with me before we got married. This is why I stay off Facebook…

But I wanted some pictures. Facebook has been my unofficial dropbox of photos since 2008, which also means it’s been a compilation of memories of me and him. So I deactivated when we first separated and I saw that the two of them were getting tagged on outings together. I had my suspicions. They looked too close in photos. But no real proof. I still held onto the fact that he wouldn’t do that to me. And that maybe she was a good person. Neither turned out to be true.

I held out thinking maybe he left for because of my illness. And maybe he did. But he also did the classic “grass is greener” and wasn’t strong enough to look at his own lawn and see how he could tend to it. That’s what marriage is all about. Having the commitment to look inward instead of outward. Giving yourself to your partner. Being vulnerable enough to let your partner know that you are unhappy long before it’s too late. And by the way, it’s never too late. Now, I’m not talking about abusive or poisoned-beyond-repair relationships. I’m talking run-of-the-mill, dealing with everyday stress, leaving your wife because it’s the most convenient thing for you to do that day of the week – relationships.

So my heart was mending. It was sewn up and holding together somewhat. Now it just got ripped back open. And for what? A couple of photos of two people that won’t be happy together in a couple of years. Or less. The thing is, he didn’t want to be with me, but he can’t be alone. They shattered my universe. And there they are, happy ontop of some mountain. Barf. Literally… I ran to the toilet and barfed after I scrolled through the photos.

Just the other day I was thinking, maybe if he knew I’d been diagnosed with POTS he wouldn’t leave me still. Maybe we could salvage things. There was always some hope on the horizon, right. Wrong. It’s over, girl. He’s not coming back. You don’t want him back. Any person who couldn’t stay with you in sickness, isn’t worth your tears. He isn’t worth your pain.

So how do I refocus my day? How do I turn it around after getting literally lovesick, slamming things around in my room, screaming at the top of my lungs, and crying into the pillow? How do I recenter and focus on myself? Well, I came here. I sat down to write. At first it was too painful, but as I clicked away, my jaw unclenched and I began to see more clearly. As if giving advice to the world, means I must first take it myself. Because I would tell any one of my friends to pick herself up by her bootstraps – after an adequate amount of emotional release – and not waste another thought on him. And now, I’m going to pick up my Chronic Illness workbook and do some work. Work on myself, for myself.

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