Un-Happy Holidays



It was almost Christmas.  Only a little over 2 months past DDay.  Nearly every minute was spent wondering how could my life change so drastically in such a short amount of time?  29 years of next to perfect, at the very least wonderful, then disaster.  How could my life have been turned upside down, backwards and sideways so fast?

HOW wasn't the right question.  I knew HOW.  What I needed to know was WHY?  Everything I'd done since discovering my husband's appalling, marriage killing behavior had been to analyze WHY.  So far, answers eluded me.  I was no Sherlock Holmes, no Sigmund Freud, but it wasn't due to lack of effort.

The effort was getting up everyday, taking care of my kids, going to work and trying to do my job.  Immense effort was required so as not to collapse into a whimpering, useless heap.
It was almost Christmas!  Life should be cheerful and festive!  Thanks to my mood altering drugs and a steady stream of vodka, (I also enjoyed a nice Pinot Grigio or Chardonnay from time to time when I thought I should cut back on the hard stuff.) my temperament hovered between jumping off a bridge and breaking into a boisterous chorus of "Deck the Halls" while making holiday cookies for friends and family.  I was just floating by, zombie like, doing what had to be done with very little hope for a happy new year.

I used up what little control I imagined I had.  Gave away my access to Jaymie, the naive, dimwit that I perceived as a font of knowledge.  This time, the control I relinquished was of my own doing.  I snort and snicker as I type that because now we all know, I was dimwitted as well.

Discovery of an affair will leave anyone, even the toughest, Type-A folks, feeling powerless.  By running the show after DDay, I was taking back my power, asserting my control.  I was driving the bus again, unfortunately my destination was no where near Happily Ever After.  I was on the fast-track to Crazy Town.

Nearly everyday I told Richard he was going to have to leave.  I didn't want him gone before the holidays, but after Christmas, I would require space.  With him in the house, I couldn't think straight.  I could barely breathe.  I had given away my punching bag, my venting surrogate, Jaymie.  If I lost it, Richard would be the recipient of my vengeance full force.  The thought of that terrified me.

I held it together through Christmas.  Put up all the decorations and the tree, not with my usual holiday zeal, but I got the job done.  Made my lists, purchased wrapped and shipped all necessary gifts but the thought put into selecting the token items was lack luster and the wrap was no where near my normal standards.  I think I even sent out Christmas cards.  I'll have to dig one of those out of storage.  I'd love to see the image I chose for that year.  What could I have ever found that felt appropriate??
I gave Richard an insulated coffee mug with pictures of our family smiling brightly before October.  The mug said "Happy memories from 2010".
Enjoy your daily java in that, you prick.
I was very clear I wanted NO gifts from him.  I basically dared him to try and appease me with a charity present.  I told him anything he wrapped would be considered a consolation prize.  I had no interest.  The compromise was he could fill my stocking with a few tiny treats so the kids would not find it empty on Christmas morning.  He thought he'd skirt my controlling Christmas gift giving rule by getting me a Hanukkah present instead.  We celebrate both holidays in our home. He bought me perfume, from Nordstrom.  The same place he bought Jaymie her fragrance of choice.  For a such smart man, I think we can all agree, my husband can be a gigantic moron.  Need more proof...here ya go:  The name of the putrid smelling perfume he selected for me....Gucci Guilty.  Unbelievable, right?
You can't make shit like that up.

In place of sugar plums, scenes that might allow me access to Jaymie again danced in my head.  Manipulations that might offer me some relief to my ever escalating compulsion for answers, revenge and control of my life became my charge.  This was not going to be a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah or a Joyous New Year.  2011 was not looking like a fresh start.  It had all the characteristics of a bitter end.