I truly didn’t realize that it has been over a year since my last post. Good grief. And I’m not even really sure where to start. So many things have happened to us. I guess it’s best to just jump right into the story…so here goes.
People have always made jokes to me about the Seven Year Itch and I’ve always laughed it off. Until the seventh year of our marriage. Which was by far the most difficult time in my life. My parents were still living with us, Jimmy was about to lose his job, we had just had another baby and it was all building up and building up and I really didn’t think I could take much more.
And then my husband left me. Us. Because he was having an affair with a woman old enough to be his mother. All those stupid clichés were true. I was devastated. Crushed. And I couldn’t really fall apart because I had three children who needed me to help them make sense out of something I barely understood myself. It was painful. Because while he believed himself to be in love with The Whore(what? It’s her name) I was still in love with him. Divorce was mentioned. As was a possible reconciliation. My parents were pushing for divorce. I wanted to reconcile. As crazy as it sounds. I had always told him that if he ever cheated on me then our marriage would be over. And I absolutely believed that to be true. Until it happened to me. I won’t go into all the details with you. Instead I will simply say that there was blame to be placed on both of us. The majority of it can definitely be placed on him, mind you. But I played a part in it as well. Which is a bitter pill to swallow I assure you. We decided that he could see the boys three nights a week at a park between both of our homes. And during that time we began talking to each other. Rather warily at first, but still honest-to-god conversations. And he began to realize that he made a mistake. Which did not go over well at all with my parents. And now I’m gonna fast forward through a couple of things that happened because they need to remain private.
One of the things we discussed was me going back to work in some capacity. He had lost his job and needed a break. He was worn out. So I put applications in at restaurants all over town. Because we figured that me going back to waiting tables would be the easiest thing to do. And I get an email from Logan’s Roadhouse saying that they want to interview me. I was so excited. I went in and met two of the managers and was told I would have to come back to meet the GM. At that point I was pretty sure I had the job. On the day of my final interview my father had a doctor’s appointment. So Jimmy said he would come with me and watch the kids while I had my interview. Which pissed my parents off. Two hours before said interview I show up AT MY OWN HOME to shower and get ready, only to be met at the door by my parents who won’t let us in. My father starts yelling at my husband and the next thing I know he throws a punch at Jimmy and hits him in the head. While Jimmy is holding the baby. So Jimmy has one hand on the railing and the other on the baby carrier and he is trying to keep from falling down the stairs. I’m crying and screaming for him to stop because the baby is right there. But he won’t. Then the neighbor comes over and gets involved. Even though he knows nothing about the situation. We are all yelling at each other. It was horrible. Jimmy calls the police. They show up and talk to all of us. Jimmy decides not to file a report because I asked him not to. I just want it to be over. Finally they leave and I get the baby from the house and take him to the car. I go back inside and get in the shower. I grab as much stuff as I can because there is no way in hell I can stay in that house after that. Ugly, hateful words are exchanged and I leave to go to my interview. I have absolutely NO idea what was said during that final interview, but it was what he wanted to hear because I got the job. Now we just had to find some place to stay.
And that would be where my BFF came in. I called her and told her what happened and she told me to drive to her house. We could stay there as long as we needed. Which only turned out to be a day because we moved in with my mother-in-law the next day. And we stayed there with her for about six weeks. We began the process of healing our family. One day at a time. I started work, Nub changed schools and life began to get back to normal. We started looking for a place to live and were thrown another curveball when we found what was to become our new house. The most beautiful, perfect house we had ever seen. In an amazing neighborhood, for less than what we were paying previously. We moved in the day before Thanksgiving.
I’m not saying that everything is perfect. We are still working on some issues, but those will remain private. I left out some things here and there, but you still get the idea of where I’ve been for the last six months. We have come such a long way since then…
Now? Today? Life is very, very good. And I’m grateful for my friends and my in-laws. I could have never made it through any of this without them. I am truly blessed, and I absolutely know it.