In the wee small hours of the morning…

So lately I have been afflicted with insomnia.  I have the worst time failing asleep.  Once I fall asleep, I don’t sleep as well as I once did, tossing and turning and waking up all night long. I’m hoping that it is temporary and once I start traveling, the exertion of it all, will put me fast asleep at night.

I know that part of it is due to my racing mind.  I need to pack this, scan that, forget the evil twin posted that on Facebook today.  Sometimes, I write at night (check the posting times on many of the posts) and then I’m able to go to sleep.  So as I thought about writing tonight, I was thinking, how may different ways can I say, I’m going to come out of the other side of this stronger and better off and fine?  Why do I care so much about tiptoeing around what I really want to say about him?  I mean really, this is all about what I need to heal.  Not what he needs to feel ok about what he did.  His kids know what he did.  His sisters, friends, they all know.

So tonight, no tiptoeing.  Tonight I can’t sleep because I’m hurt and angry.  I’m pissed that I was lied to for God only knows how long about he really felt in order to not knock rock the apple cart and make sure I was still here to fry his eggs, chill his beer, love his kids, never run out of toilet paper and rub his back each night he was home.  What hurts even more is that I have come to realize that he checked out long before he balled up and said the words out loud.  Lie after lie after lie.  Every time I asked if we were ok. Lie.  If he was still happy.  Lie. If anything was wrong. Lie. Secret text messages.  Lie.  Talking about the future.  Lie.

I’m pissed I didn’t leave 9 months ago when I called my mom crying telling her I was so incredibly unhappy that I didn’t know what to do.  I stayed because we were a family, I loved him and I believed that with a little work, we would find our way back to the good place. I didn’t run to the first person who paid a little attention to me.  I was the grown up.  I bought the groceries, fried the eggs, loved the kids, made sure there was plenty of toilet paper and did everything I could try to make things good again, often at the expense of my own wants and needs.  I didn’t hide behind my job during the week and case of beer on the weekends.

So now, I’m putting me first and I have to be honest, it’s weird.  I has forgotten I was important too.  That I have value and my time is worth something. The other day my Girls Love Travel group on Facebook had a post from a girl who had just broken up and was sad because her ex had posted a pic of him and his new girlfriend on FB with #happy.  Here’s the thing.  If you have to post a picture of your new girlfriend that you hooked up with ridiculously fast with the #happy or facebook emotion of “feeling happy” you are just fooling yourself.  When you are really happy, you don’t have to convince the world of it, you enjoy it and savior it for yourself, like a secret.

Also, I suggested that he read this so that he knew what I was writing about him and of course, the evil twin has no time for that.  But just know, this serves as his official warning, there are only 2 rolls of toilet paper left, I can’t promise how much of that will be left when you come for the weekend this week and you can buy your own toilet paper from now on.

Check out my sweet new converse for my trip!

 

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Jennifer Foster

I am on quest to reclaim my life, one mile and one photo at a time. My goal is to share all the good and bad in a way that is both heart warming and humorous. Buckle in and enjoy my tales of travels and life's trials and tribulations. All described here in detail and photos because seriously, I can't make this shit up.

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