Finality

written on 10/7/19

On Saturday night, I had the metaphorical rug pulled from underneath me. Again. It had already been an emotional day and I was just coming off of one pretty intense anxiety attack when my phone pinged. And just like that, I felt like my world was crumbling all over again. My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my throat, my hands went numb, and the tears just started to fall. I could taste the acid of my vomit stinging my throat as it made its way up and I clamped my mouth shut. My thoughts raced as I let out an angry growl, and I could feel the anger and sadness building in my chest. I felt sick to my stomach and I shook as I sat in my car. It took a dose of my anxiety medication, and a lot of deep breathing to finally calm down. I started trying to ground myself with anything that I could touch; the steering wheel, my necklace. I sat in my running vehicle just staring for what felt like hours. In reality, it was only thirty minutes because my phone pinged notifying me that it was time to put on a brave face and pick up my daughter. I had to swallow the pain and numb myself to the news I had just received. This was only the beginning of the hurt to come, though. But I couldn't allow myself to breakdown in front of Em again.

There were a lot of “I’m so fucking sorry.” and “I don’t want this.” There was, “We don’t even know if it’s mine.” and “She’s not even a mom to her own kids, I don’t want her having one of mine.” And the one that drove a knife right through my side was, “They’re not my family. She’s nothing. I don’t even like them; you and Emery are my family.” And the only thing I could think to say was, “It’s too late to take it back now…” You see, about the middle of September, Beau seemed to have this realization. He called in the middle of the night, and he asked about getting help. About how he wanted to do better for our daughter. He had said that the life he was living was not the one that he wanted. At 2 am, these all seemed like really positive things and they gave me a bit of hope. Not for us, but for him. That maybe he was finally starting to see that the path he was on was only going to lead to more bad things. And if he actually got help, then maybe a few years from now we could try to put some of the shattered pieces back together. Not necessarily in order to get back together, though I may have been open to it later down the road I wouldn't really hold my breath. Instead, I just wanted him to be better. Happier and healthier. Because I want him to be in a good place. I don’t want to see him addicted to drugs or struggling. I can’t stand to see him hurting. Hell, I can’t even be angry at him for any of what has happened, including this. Instead, I just break my own heart, over and over again, because I know that there is very little that I wouldn’t do for this man. Even now. 

In all honesty, my initial reaction was not one that I’m proud of. “Well, there are three options,” I thought to myself when Beau said, “I don’t want this.” Later, I asked for forgiveness because, in my heart, I know that there are only two. This was just my knee jerk reaction of “fixing” his problems for him. But if I'm being honest, deep down, I always knew that this would happen. I just thought I’d have more time. More time to move on, and be okay. More time to get used to this new life. I was barely in the process of getting information on the annulment process. I was finally off of all my medication. I was starting to feel calm and happier. I felt really good about the boundaries I had set up while still being there for him in reasonable ways. And I knew in my heart, that one day he’d probably find someone that he loved just as much as I had loved him. That they’d get married and have kids. But this? I didn’t want it to happen like this. For a child to be brought into this world by off/on addicts. To have a young girl for a mother who already puts her other children off on anyone who is willing to take them. They bounce between dads, relatives, and friends because she can’t bother to be a full-time mom. And I didn’t want Em to have a half-sibling that she may not ever be able to see or have in her life because they could get taken away or sent off elsewhere. And if I’m being really, really honest, I never wanted to have to share the gift of motherhood that he gave me, with anyone else. At least not yet; not now. But here we are...

The timing of this just seemed so cruel to me and I felt myself slipping right back into my depression. I’ve spent the last 48 hours crying. It comes in waves and sometimes I have no idea why the tears choose to come at the most inconvenient times. Like yesterday morning, when I decided to run bleachers. My vision became blurry, I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe, and it was followed by a lot of sobbing. When I finally got to the bottom of the last row I just slumped over. Snot running down my nose; eyes swollen. Then when I went to my parents' house in order to get Emery about forty minutes later and my mom asked me, “What’s wrong? I can feel that there’s something really wrong.” I couldn’t keep my composure for more than five minutes. I just stood there in front of her with tears running down my face as I prepared my coffee. Shaking as I stirred the liquid in my cup for what seemed like hours. And she hugged me as I let it all out. “Oh, mija, we all hoped. We prayed for you and Beau to be a family again someday. But now you really have to let go,” she said between my sobs. And somehow that made me feel both better and worse.

Later that night, I sat in a daze just staring out the window with my thoughts racing. A baby with someone else makes our end so final. Permanent. It extinguishes any flicker of light that was still glowing. And I have no one else to blame for these hurt feelings but myself. Because this is what hope gets you. This is what the painful side of loving someone unconditionally looks like. And this is the hurt you go through when it’s unrequited. This is so much more painful than I ever imagined. And I’m so tired of feeling it. Of dealing with it. I’m so tired of hurting. I just want it to stop. I want this to be over.