Taboo to tell the truth?

I am fucking miserable.  There, I said it.  And honestly, it feels good to get it out.

Truth be told, I have no where else that I can say it…no where else that I can own it.  My husband knows that I am struggling with depression, but not another soul in my “real” world has an inkling.  It makes me feel so stupid to feel this way. To not be able to find my happy place again.  To not feel like me.  I have always been a pretty happy person, and damn, did I take that for granted!  It used to be effortless.  But apparently, I am not resilient, nor am I as strong as I believed myself to be.

I work with clients every day who have significant, sometimes almost unsolvable problems….many are homeless, most suffer life-changing mental health diagnoses, some are addicted, and some have so many defenses in place from past trauma that they cannot let anyone in to love them or they actively drive others away.

That is not my reality.  I grew up privileged, and I grew up loved by both of my parents.  There was no abuse, no neglect…just a lot of happy memories of childhood.  I always had friends, and I never struggled finding a romantic partner.  I was so fucking lucky and I didn’t even know it!  As an adult, I have always worked hard…earned my degrees, have done what was expected.

Speaking of doing what is expected…picture this…. I found out my husband was having a love affair with a co-worker.  It was about 9 o’clock at night.  My husband and I were decorating a Christmas tree.  The very next day, I sat next to him and held his fucking hand at Thanksgiving dinner so that nobody would know what was up…because I felt like that was what was expected?  Who does that?!?

Please know, I am no angel.  Prior to his infidelity, I cheated on him twice.  My cheating was more of the getting drunk at a party variety, getting caught up in the thrill of the chase…. while his was more of a feeling angry/resentful/lonely and sneaking around with a co-worker type.  But, really?  Cheating is cheating.  My cheating was about sex and ego, while his cheating was out of self-pity and needing connection.

I know what you are thinking….it’s time to break up already!  But see, that’s the thing…there is something about having been to hell and back with someone and both of you choosing to continue to want to make it work…that is worth holding on to.  I still love him.  He is still my best friend.  I cannot imagine my life without him.  I have complete faith that he feels the same way. And, I honestly believe that neither of us will ever hurt the other like that again.  He has done a lot of self-growth work…and has really come far.  And then there is me.

I don’t know where to grow to….what to run towards…what goals to set.  I’ve gone as high as you go academically… I have two respectable, well-paying careers.  I designed a beautiful home and survived an extensive remodel, managing multiple construction crews every day for six months.  I am the friend that everyone comes to when they are hurting.  I am the family member that people call when things go wrong or they need a shoulder to lean on.  None of this is being said in a braggart way.  Believe me,  I am a fucking mess!

And I can’t tell that to anyone.  Except to you….so thank you, if you are still reading.  This honestly isn’t a self-pity thing…it’s a “I am so lost” kinda thing.

I want to feel alive again.

So…that’s it.  I was finally able to say it.  And, it’s a little hard to believe…but I feel a little bit better.  I wish I was in a different place and this was some super sexy, spanking escapade to recollect…but, this is real.  This is me.

~ nora