a greater spirit

I aspired to be a greater spirit.

I made mistakes.

I aspired to be a sweeter spirit.

I learned.

The fact that anything I ever did contributed to his downward spiral inspires me to prove my truth.

I aspired to be a sexier spirit.

I longed. 

I did everything I knew to do.

Key word. "I"

I got help, got services, got ideas, got inspiration, got faith, got HOPE, got books, got therapy, got meds, got toys, got connected, got tuned in.

There are no victims here. Just circumstances.

I aspired to be a simpler spirit.

I told him the truth.

All of it. Too much truth. I gave him, Dr. Phil style, get to business, here's the deal, let's do x, y and z truth. He needed softer, subtler truths. He was damaged. Patch one hole and a new one would appear.

Now I know. I know for sure; although, I had come clean entirely, he still had secrets. Bigger than life secrets that he never, not once admitted to me or any of our therapists over a TWO YEAR reconciliation period in any way. I see hints now. If I had aspired to be a better wife, I may have noticed the subtle hints he did leave... I was tired. Better became harder and harder. Hope became dimmer and dimmer.

I know not what is worse. Not being trustworthy enough to be told the truth, or knowing he died by his own volition based on his truth. More shitty secrets, and he left an easy trail that only I could find. He wanted me to be able to connect the dots. It didn't need to connect the dots to know where he'd taken his soul. The trail was a sad, gut wrenching, implausible, are you fucking kidding me journey. I keep thinking I'm going to find a note somewhere. Some kind explanation of how he felt we'd be better off without him.  How ridiculous. I still don't see the silver lining there. Fatherless children in an age where his pain was manageable, if one only asks for and wants the help.

What about the girls? He left them no note. He made a mean choice. How mean and violent and selfish. I have been outright blamed in writing and face-to-face conversation for his death.

I made mistakes.

But I never stopped trying. To fix me. To fix us. I told him he didn't need fixing, just tweaking. I admittedly gave up on trying to fix everything. I have solid reasons. My reasons have nothing to do with him, or any man. They were made on my gut. I didn't feel safe. I felt heavy. I felt the way my emotional affair made me feel. Guilty. Confused.

Our journey to wellness was progressive and expensive. We grew so much.... Emotionally, spiritually, sexually. Except for this one secret. His secret; we would've made it. Except he didn't feel like the man I married. My gut knew something was off. And even on a great family vacation, while having a great time, I knew. I needed to end the marriage. Our therapist, gave me this advice:

Don't make a decision on a bad day, during difficult circumstances. Make it on a good day when nothing is wrong.

I still stayed. I still stayed! And that is because I loved him. And we were so good at being parents together. Our girls deserved for me to stay.

Because...

I aspired to be greater.

I aspired to be sweeter.

I aspired to be sexier.

Of all the goodness I aspired to achieve, I never aspired to be richer.

FUCK OFF is pretty much my answer to the blame Dawn drama. But it still hurts. He abandoned three beautiful daughters! It was his choice. His long planned, long threatened, long standing view on problem solving. He succeeded. Not only did he succeed, but his choice was the worst one can choose! Drowning takes the longest, and is the MOST painful way to die, and it was HIS CHOICE. That is how much pain he felt. His pain in this life had to equal how he ended it. How absolutely tragic and awful as well as totally preventable had he stayed with the systems that were proven to work. The meds worked. But he didn't like taking them. So he didn't. And he faded away...

Our middle child, the one who was closest to him has a tough time in water. She often holds her breath until it hurts. She can't imagine he did not choose her. She's very mad at him. And I love the sea. And I love water. And I'll be damned if she won't swim like a fish and dream like a mermaid despite her loss.

I'm just so sad for him, and them.

And I still do not accept any blame. Suicide is painful for all involved. It is also very mean. Very, Very, Very Mean!

I can pinpoint the month, July, and year, 2008 that my marriage ended; although, I didn't find that insight until I processed his death and all the circumstances leading up to his death. Summer 2008 was supposed to be the summer of fun. Money was flowing. Girls were healthily growing. And he was suicidal. And I was numb with fear.

I didn't even know he was depressed. Much less thinking of dying! How can you not share that with the person you have trusted your entire being with, the person you call your best friend. I came home from our doctor toting free drugs and a survey having three of seven symptoms for anxiety and depression. I handed him the survey. He had all seven. We cried. We took the pills. Once the medicine started to work, he got sadder and weepier and remorseful for what he called "leaving us." The pills made him sleep better, feel better and think clearer. It's the thinking part that he always struggled with most.

Then came autumn. Then came hope. Hope that I was great, sweet, sexy. I had some secrets of my own. My HOPE came in via email and mp3files. Not one, but two music men filled my proverbial inbox with compliments and personal performances any girl would blush to receive. My husband even saw my blushes. He knew about the songs. We were spending 1-2 hours a day connecting and communicating. He said, "I can't write music and sing to you, but I can love you like no one else as the father of your children." That seemed plausible. Real. Logical.

Before any songs were ever sung/performed, I confessed my feelings. How could I have such massive, ignite my bones kind of feelings for someone I only saw once, in a group setting. HOW?! I told my husband the truth. I wanted out. He wouldn't budge. Now I look back and see a ton of times manipulated me. Controlled me and I'm not easily reigned in. But my girls are my life. But I wanted to stay. But I could not.

My weapon was always the truth. His was always guilt and thick promises. Declarations of love that I didn't feel. I don't know why. But once I'm gone from a relationship, I'm gone. I even told him that when we met. I said, "I'm a bird. Never try to clip my wings and we'll be fine."

His death did not destroy me. His choice was his own truth. But now I'm left in search of my true love who must also be a GREAT dad. My girls deserve no less than genuine, old fashioned, sweet, undying love.

I aspire to be a better spirit.

I don't aspire to be a better wife. In fact, I don't think I will ever get married again. Now my life is complicated. For now, I'm going to hunker down and simplify motherhood and career. I'd love some great, sweet, sexy man to sweep me off my feet, but after a month on online dating sites, I'm a little weary.

Whatever happened to serendipity.  I know... serendipity is what got me flirting in the first place.