Then and Now

For those that know me, it's no secret that I am the keeper of all significant dates. I don't quite know what it is, but I lean towards the theory that I am masochistic and must enjoy the pain of reliving certain events that especially brought me heartache. Instead of moving forward like normal people, I relive those moments as if it were yesterday.

February 16, 2003.

It was an already crappy weekend. Hubby at the time just came back from San Diego and right off the bat, something was up. It being Valentine's Day weekend, I was disappointed that things weren't lovey dovey as I had hoped...plus, it would've been our first as a married couple. When things needed to be discussed, it was his usual tendancy to clam up. Me, on the other hand, liked to talk things out...not right away, but yes, after a significant time that we should. He told me that he had something to tell me...and by the look on his face, I knew that it wasn't good news.

I was patient at first. But then, I got frustrated by his silence. It was then that I became persistent...probably annoyingly so to the point where I was just plain angry.

I finally blurted out, "What is it? Do you have a kid or something?!"

Silence.

He didn't need to say anything because the look on his face said it all. I couldn't believe it. I don't know why I said it. But I remember feeling as if I had the wind knocked out of me. I couldn't breathe because of the shock. And he just sat at the edge of the bed with his head down...ashamed. I don't know how much time had passed when I started screaming at him. I can't even recall the profanities that escaped my mouth, but I do remember throwing the remote control against the wall and slapping him hard. I wish I could've seen inside of his head...to feel what he was feeling as I was yelling at him. Because for me, I felt as if my heart was being ripped out of my chest. Did he feel that? Could he feel that?

It took me a while to calm down. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't be in the same room as him. I remember feeling so nauseated.

But I had to know the truth...I had to know about the child in question. Perhaps ex-hubby was scared of my reaction...maybe he was scared I'd hit him again because he kept his distance...but what followed next was something I was totally unprepared for. I asked him who the kid was and he had to correct me saying that there were TWO kids, not one. And in fact, I already knew who these kids were...they were the "nieces" that he's always talked about and prided himself about how close he felt to them. I've seen pictures and videos of these "nieces" before, but to find out that they were, indeed, his daughters left me speechless. Why didn't he tell me?

This revelation hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't know how to handle it and my biggest mistake was not telling my family about it right away. How could I? I was embarrassed and ashamed. Embarrassed and ashamed because I SHOULD HAVE known something as important as my future husband having two grown daughters.

Ironically, we were already living in Foster City. I remember leaving the apartment and driving off. I didn't have a destination in mind, but I ended up at a random park in San Mateo. I sat at a bench for what seemed like hours and I remember watching all the people pass me by. I felt numb. I couldn't move. Even if I wanted to, I don't think my legs would've been able to support the weight of my own body. I DID make one call...and that was to my supervisor at work. As vaguely as I could, I told her that I was going through something very personal and that I wouldn't be able to make it in to work at all. It being President's Day weekend, I'd miss four days of school. I was so grateful to her because she didn't pry. Perhaps the request seemed so urgent and maybe the cracking of my voice gave it away, but she told me to take all the time that I needed. I never told anyone at work what happened...not right away anyways...but later on, I would hear the rumors going around about me that I never bothered to squash. The word was that I was pregnant and had a miscarriage. I heard it for myself and I let people believe it. No one asked questions and I preferred it that way.

Every year since then, February has been a trying month. The depression that plagued me for the next four years was no joke. It wasn't only psychological and emotional, the pain was also physical. Those four days that I didn't go to work was spent in bed. I was completely lethargic...I might as well died...because to me, at that moment, it was as if my world had stopped. You know how there are stages of grief and loss? Well, I skipped a lot of them and didn't handle my grief so well...and that is why I am screwed in the head. But when I had to return to work, I wore the smile that everyone expects of me and went about my day as normally as I could. No one would suspect anything was ever wrong and I intended to keep it that way.

Thank goodness that February is the shortest month! Since 2003, I dreaded February. I dreaded President's Weekend. I dreaded February 16th because my body would react automatically and plunge into this melancholic stupor that would last for days. Last year was different. I actually felt somewhat okay...and it was then that I realized that I was letting the pain, anger, and bitterness go. Don't get me wrong, I still have my moments. A movie, a song, a picture, or a letter could trigger my emotions so easily, but I knew that I had survived the worst. It DOES get better, by golly, but shit, did it have to take so freakin' long?

Little did I know back then that 2003 would only be the beginning of the end. I was hopeful that we could work it out, in fact, I wanted nothing more. I wanted to be that couple that withstood the drama and proved to everyone that yes, we would be okay. For a long time, I felt like a failure. I thought that if I forgave him just one more time...if I tried one more time. But lie after lie was killing me slowly and I became a whole different person that I no longer recognized. In the end, I HAD to leave. Leaving him and the effects thereafter has been, hands down, the toughest trial in my life.

February 16, 2009.

I woke up sad. Maybe it was habit. My body just knows. It was pouring rain out and I decided to go for a walk. I thought about him and everything that happened six years ago, but surprisingly so, there was no bitterness or anger. Again, maybe the sadness is out of habit. But then, I thought about the Music Maestro...yes, yes, I stated in my previous post that I would try harder to get over him, but that's when I started to feel down. I remember thinking to myself that wow, my luck with Valentine's Day would be different in 2009 because I have a boyfriend. Had.

I just finished watching "In The Land of Women" and the main character is heartbroken over a failed relationship. There's a line where Adam Brody's character shares that "...the further I get away from that (the drama with the girl), I'm not so sure that was real love..." Could that be me with the Music Maestro? I've gone on and on how I believed that he was THE ONE and yet, I find myself crying over him way too much than he deserves. There's definitely something wrong with this picture.

I AM okay...a tad melancholy...but nothing that a lil' retail therapy couldn't fix. So it wasn't clothes or shoes that I splurged on, but rather food and dvds...still. I guess I had to write about 2003 one more time 'cuz there is no way in hell that I'll be doing this again next year- lol. So what if it stings a little bit...what happened with the Music Maestro was like adding salt to the injury...but it heals in time as it always does. There's a lesson to be learned and though I may not know it at the moment, it shall all be revealed when it needs to be.

Happy anniversary to me...MnM is free. <3