Still, I ask: what should I write?
Should I write about the betrayal of my wonderful loving husband, who I always knew was something of an asshole, but who I always thought of as being 'my' asshole?
Live and learn: such is the risk of trying to love a man with limited imagination, and with even less respect for other people. I have been staggered to find out after the fact of the number of people he has hurt, or used, or just cast away, because they no longer suited his needs. It scares me. Mind, I do not doubt that he loves our daughter, at least as much as he can, but I wonder what will happen in that regard, one day.
And God knows what will happen to the poor schlub he replaced me with- he is really a nice guy, and deserves much better. But that's not my hunt. Such is old, dark water now....
He has said that I will always be Beth's father, and I suppose that he means that, at least for now. For now, I get to see her one or two days on the weekends, around my job, and around his schedule. Beth is doing very well, though she misses me, and she does not understand why I can't come home. it's not all clear to me, either, but those are stories for later, when she's older, and when the hurt won't be so dramatic. Hopefully. But that she does do well for now is a very bright spark in my life.
As for me, I am getting by. I have a very nice room, rented from some very nice people. I have a steady income, but it really isn't much, but then I'm not doing that much myself. I haven't had much luck, reviving my professional career; the scars run deep, and there are days when I wonder if I am much good for anything now, anymore. My parents are still sliding down on the way out of this world, in a ragged jumbled pile- I never tried to hide what a mess that was going to be from Richard, but no doubt it played at least some part as to why he decided I was too much trouble to keep around. That part, I can at least understand, and not really hold against him.
I am getting out some, and I've met some good people, and one particularly nice one that I spend a lot of time with. We are close, but it's hard for me to get really close. I'm afraid, and I'm afraid that I don't know why I am afraid. A close friend advised me that the best thing I could do at my age was to avoid all matters of the heart, and settle in to be single and free, and worry instead about family and friends as he does.
It's quite tempting, sometimes.
And other times, I am a lonely old man, in a small room packed with the leftovers of past lives, far away from my daughter and the family that I thought I had.
And yet. The world ioverall s still a fine place, and people are more good than bad, and love is always possible. My daughter thrives in the face of adversity. I have lost a lot, and can ask for little more.
The center holds, and I endure.
Live and learn: such is the risk of trying to love a man with limited imagination, and with even less respect for other people. I have been staggered to find out after the fact of the number of people he has hurt, or used, or just cast away, because they no longer suited his needs. It scares me. Mind, I do not doubt that he loves our daughter, at least as much as he can, but I wonder what will happen in that regard, one day.
And God knows what will happen to the poor schlub he replaced me with- he is really a nice guy, and deserves much better. But that's not my hunt. Such is old, dark water now....
He has said that I will always be Beth's father, and I suppose that he means that, at least for now. For now, I get to see her one or two days on the weekends, around my job, and around his schedule. Beth is doing very well, though she misses me, and she does not understand why I can't come home. it's not all clear to me, either, but those are stories for later, when she's older, and when the hurt won't be so dramatic. Hopefully. But that she does do well for now is a very bright spark in my life.
As for me, I am getting by. I have a very nice room, rented from some very nice people. I have a steady income, but it really isn't much, but then I'm not doing that much myself. I haven't had much luck, reviving my professional career; the scars run deep, and there are days when I wonder if I am much good for anything now, anymore. My parents are still sliding down on the way out of this world, in a ragged jumbled pile- I never tried to hide what a mess that was going to be from Richard, but no doubt it played at least some part as to why he decided I was too much trouble to keep around. That part, I can at least understand, and not really hold against him.
I am getting out some, and I've met some good people, and one particularly nice one that I spend a lot of time with. We are close, but it's hard for me to get really close. I'm afraid, and I'm afraid that I don't know why I am afraid. A close friend advised me that the best thing I could do at my age was to avoid all matters of the heart, and settle in to be single and free, and worry instead about family and friends as he does.
It's quite tempting, sometimes.
And other times, I am a lonely old man, in a small room packed with the leftovers of past lives, far away from my daughter and the family that I thought I had.
And yet. The world ioverall s still a fine place, and people are more good than bad, and love is always possible. My daughter thrives in the face of adversity. I have lost a lot, and can ask for little more.
The center holds, and I endure.