The Ugly Side of Desire

The sunlight pierced the dark grey, overcast morning sky. The small shafts of light were just bright enough to stream in the window and start to awaken me from my nightmares and memories. FLASH BACK  I had caught my husband cheating on me. Not in the traditional sense. He was unfaithful to me financially. He was, for lack of a better word and formal diagnosis, a compulsive spender. I couldn't take it anymore. I was so tired of living pay check to pay check. His spending was always complicating our financial situation. For seven years he promised me that he would stop, get help, and would be responsible with our money. But that was a pack of hollow unfulfilled promises he never intended to keep. We were constantly fighting about it.  I was an executive assistant at a security firm. So I basically had been running my bosses' business for the last 4 years. I put in a ton of hours and sweat equity into the business. I worked close to 80 hours a week. My husband was a security guard. We were fortunate if he got forty hours a week. His new plan was that he was going to get into the best shape of his life and join the Air Force. I needed health insurance and dental insurance badly, but the plan through my work was very expensive and lacked the coverage I needed. But this was just a justification for my husband to spend $80 per hour on a personal trainer and a $200 per month on a fancy gym membership. As if we didn't have enough expenses. Work has been rather stressful lately.  I have had a migraine headache for over two months now. I have tried OTC products. I have tried chiropractors. I have tried relaxing and sleeping. It has only gotten worse. So much so that I have had to have my husband drive me to and from work. I mostly lay on my office floor next to the garbage can so that I don't have to go far when I have to throw up.  I finally went to the doctor. Of course after the body shaming and assuming that I was hypertensive and pre-diabetic (don't you just love how they judge you by your body without trying to find the real cause first) they took my blood pressure. It was normal. They did an EKG because it must be a cardiac thing because of my weight then. Nope EKG was normal. When it couldn't be blamed on my "morbid obesity," I was referred to a neurologist. The neurologist really was quite good. She found that the root cause was my sleep deprivation. It took a few months but eventually the headache stopped. I needed a better plan to deal with and manage my stress. PRESENT TIME The creaking of the floor boards over my head brought me back from my thoughts and memories. I was in my old room in the basement of my parents' house. I had arrived just the 9 hours ago. I had packed up and left my husband without tipping my hand that I was even thinking of leaving him. I hated myself for what I had done, the cowardly way I left. But I simply could not live that way anymore. And now I was 36 years old, separated from my husband, unemployed and living in my parents' basement. The more prideful part of me was questioning if this was really necessary and if being with my husband was really so bad after all. I was ambivalent. Part of me was not happy about leaving him, but the other part, the part that was seemingly calling the shots was done living like that. He was never going to change. He hadn't changed in seven years. He only ever told me what I wanted to hear, but never followed through on any of his promises.  I needed time to process what was going on, what had happened, and what to do next. But did I get a chance to take some much needed me time? Oh no, everyone was quick to jump on my case and tell me what I should be doing, what and how I should be feeling and telling me what to do as soon as I was conscious. Just what I need, unsolicited advice from people that have never been in these circumstances before. There was a knock at the door. Before I could ask who it was, my older brother came through the door. "Holy cow, Buck! did I say you could enter? I might have been naked," I screeched.  "Settle your t**s. You weren't naked. I know you barely got up lazy. Come on. Time to go get a job," he said. "I just got here. Don't I get a few days to decompress after all that has happened?" I asked. "Goofball, you need to get out there, get back to work and get your ducks in a row, file for divorce and get on with your life," said Buck in a matter of fact tone. "Hey, I didn't realize you were a relationship expert. How many failed marriages have you had again?" I said dripping with sarcasm.  "Watch your tone with me, little missy. Goofball, you're lucky that I could come and extract you this weekend. I saved you and you need to remember that and show your gratitude by doing exactly what I tell you to do, " he said with contempt. "I wasn't trying to be ungrateful. But can you just try to see it from his point of view? What if your wife did to you what I just did to him? Huh?" I asked quietly. He sat on the foot of the bed, drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly before he answered me. "If my wife ever did to me what you did to him, you better believe that I wouldn't have just let her go. I would have chased after her and said then did whatever she said she needed for me to do to fix things. I wouldn't have turned tail and ran back to my mother," he said. "And what have I just done?" I asked. "You won. You escaped a toxic and abusive situation. Now you need to file your paperwork and get on with your life," he said smugly. I rolled my eyes and sighed. "It doesn't feel like I have 'won,'" I huffed. "Come on get dressed. You are coming with me to apply for jobs. Get your social security card, driver's license and everything else you need," he said. Why all of a sudden do I feel like I have gone from the frying pan into the fire? "Mousette! Come upstairs. Your father and I want to talk to you, now please," my mother called down from the top of the stairs. Oh dear goodness! I am an errant 17 year old again! In the words of Gob Bluth from "Arrested Development," "I have made a huge mistake!"