You wouldn’t believe, but maybe you would

Oh Boy. Oh Boy, Oh Boy, Oh Boy, you would not believe what happened over this past week. At least, I can’t believe it’s my life playing out like a Lifetime movie before my eyes.
I get in “these spots” , These spots where I wake up and realize the truth, the reality of my situation. The fog clears, the smoke clears, everything becomes crystal clear, as in, “Hey Dumb Ass, Your H is fucking people in your very own bed.”; that kind of clear.

I have conversations with myself, a lot. It’s what makes me wake up and see things the way I should have been seeing them.

I’m not crazy, I don’t hear voices, but I will speak to myself (inside my thoughts) as if I were having a conversation with another person, say, a therapist, something like that, it helps.

So I ask myself questions as if a therapist was asking, such as, “What the eff are you getting out of this relationship, the one that you’re a damn near positive your H is cheating before your fricken eyes?” Those types of questions.

So, during this conversation with my fake therapist, I was asked why, how  and why again. Why would you allow this, how did it get so far? One day, I Finally, I had an answer.

You see, growing up with two sisters, the oldest one grade ahead of me, as most, high school was rough. My sister, she was extremely popular. Cheer Leader, fun, happy and strikingly beautiful. I was shy, hung out with the “low riders” I was a “wannabe” long story, I’ll tell you some other time. My point of the story follows:

My sister OR I would come home with a sad story, such as we were on the outs with the group, someone called one of us stuck-up, the rumors that usually accompany high school crap. However, my sister had it worse because she was (still is) striking, drop dead beautiful. I would come home with the group of my particular (girl) friends not liking me, I was the current “nobody talk to” person in the group of friends.

My sister and I were talking a few months ago how we would come home from school, glad the day was over, seeking comfort. We spoke of how we would pour our heart out to our mother, and her answer ALWAYS was “pretend you don’t care; pretend you don’t even notice.

So, when I had my imaginary conversation, I realized that I have “pretended I don’t care” for the past four years. I’ve pretended I had no idea that the woman standing before my desk was effing my H in the early morning, before work. I remember thinking “there is no way I will let this slut know that I care what my H is doing, who and when.

It sounds unreal I know, but I can’t explain the thoughts.

When this Bullsh*t began 31/2 – 4 years ago, I remember ” sleeza” stopped by the shop, pretending to be showing a new sample; She chit chatted with me, the only office Personnel the usual Bull Sh** a lover would glean for, and somehow worked my marriage into the conversation. ( At this point, of course, H was out, gathering customers.) She was asking about our vacation home, would I ever see myself moving to the far away home to work while H stayed behind for a few years. “Would you miss him?” she asked. I knew she was feeling our marriage out. In my mind, I thought ” I’ll be damned if I tell this whore, who is effing my H, yes, yes I would miss him, only for her to laugh with her friends later that she was taking over.” Rather than say “yes, dumb slut, of course” I said “ehh” she grew the biggest smile on her face.
From there the affair grew, Yes, From there, I pretended I had no idea because I wanted “Ahhhhaa, you MFer, caught you” evidence.
Wow- Just realized I haven’t even typed one word, one word of what I was going to tell my blogger friends about. You see, I finally told H, I knew way more than he realized I knew. I told him that all of his “you’re crazy” speeches are about to blow because I had some proof for him.

He hit the fan, as well as the Sh*t. Let us say I ended up taking refuge in a hotel for a few days, or, okay week or so. I will fill ya’ll in tomorrow. It. Is. Huge.