Saturday, March 22, 2014
My story is nearly at an end, at least as far as my time in Crazy Town is concerned. Before I type "The End", I wanna do my level best to dig deep into my crooked thinking. I need to be done with it. There's been substantial self analyzing to date on these virtual pages, but I feel there's more. I may not have the writing skills or even the insight needed to break through the many layers that held my sanity hostage over those 365 days, but I'm gonna wing it anyway.
It might be a bit late for being overtly self indulgent with the details. Some of the Haters out there may have me pegged. I like to talk about me! Yep, maybe I'm just as narcissistic as Richard. You shouldn't continue reading now if you feel I'm kicking a very dead, smelly horse. If you aren't interested in a post that could turn out to be more of the same shit, different day, at this point you should just be off like a prom dress.
I'll be finishing the story of my time in Crazy Town soon. Please come back to enjoy the nightmare of the Retraining Order.
Now, with that warning proclaimed....
A whole miserable year had passed. In the beginning I thought I'd be over it in a month. Always believed there was nothing I couldn't fix. I was the strong one. The smart one. If it was God that had chosen infidelity to teach me I wasn't as strong or smart as I thought....He has a real mean streak. If it was Karma that drove the cheating husband bus over me...What in the hell did I do to deserve that?? Damn. I must have really been nasty in a past life, maybe I was a puppy drowning pedophile.
After an entire year of thinking about the affair and very little else, why couldn't I wrap my brain around it and move on??
I think I get it now.
Here's where the layers of crazy come in.
On the surface Denial. Probably not fair to label this layer as crazy. It was more like a layer of protection, my personal mental armor. My sub-conscience didn't think I was capable of handling wretched reality. I had yet to face the hard fact that there was no one to blame for my torment but Richard. I loved him completely. Never doubted his love for me, not for a minute. My mind could not/would not open the door to the fact that he could injure me so deeply, so permanently, so deliberately.
Just below that layer was Transference. Very convenient. A real necessity when you are navigating Crazy Town. I spread my lunacy all over the place but concentrated my efforts on Jaymie, usually under the guise of needing the emails to help me heal or declaring my absolute certainty that getting her to talk to me would be the only way I would ever be able to move past the anguish. Jaymie never knew it, but in the altered reality of transference, she was the guardian of my heart for the first year after DDay. She was like a decoy attracting my attention so I wouldn't notice who really broke me.
I hid Anger under my Transference. I didn't always hide it well, but I thought I did a rather admirable job of camouflaging it most of the time. I hailed the emails as the Holy Grail of my recovery. It is hard to describe how I could be so sure I needed those emails, yet also know they were merely a ruse I utilized to lash out at Jaymie, the Bitch Whore. My hate for her had unlimited bounds. Imagine what could have happened had I unleashed that much animosity at Richard?! There was a very thin, precarious line between my rage and the possibility of a blackness filled breakdown from which I believed I may never recover. This layer, the one where Royal Bitch ruled, granted Richard a temporary pass. The mass majority of my scorn was directed or maybe the accurate word is deflected, toward Jaymie.
Maybe I'll thank her one day.
Yea, right!! I'll be able to skate right on over to Spring Valley to thank her because then all hell will have frozen over!!
In the depths of my soul, was the layer I couldn't reach. Every now and again it would attempt to surface, try to burst through a crack or two between transference and anger. Almost daily a tiny bit seeped through my layer of Denial protection but only when I was at my most vulnerable, usually after I'd been shot down in another attempt to contact Jaymie. This layer had to dwell at the bottom because there would have been no real life functioning for this girl if it floated to the top. Buried so far down inside was Sorrow and total Despair.
I just had to take a very deep cleansing breath after I typed that sentence. Whoa. Sorrow still fills me with dread.
I think I had another layer. Abject terror. Terror was the thin coating around Sorrow and Despair. Why in the hell was I so afraid to feel the heartache, to allow myself to grieve?
Unfamiliar emotions are scary as shit, that's why!!
All those layers served a valuable purpose. The layers bought me time. Time to find the support I really needed all along, the members of The Healing Heart. Time to let the initial wound heal a bit. Time to find my inner strength, not just my Toughie Pants, my personal courage, so I could begin to accept what Richard did to me, to us.
Explaining the layers to you as I clarify them for myself may help some one out there reading to understand this:
There is no set time for healing after DDay. It's a long haul, but healing does happen. Recovery comes in many forms. Eventually, you're gonna peel back all the layers and find a resilient new you.