Well, I tried to take control of my life December 22nd by kicking the love of my life out of our home in a last-ditch effort to wake him up and get him caring about and acting in the best interest of our relationship. Of course it was doomed to fail -- however, it did preserve my sanity. I would have murdered myself and him by now if we had continued to function under the same roof. But it did nothing for my happiness or my belief in myself or the world. Next, I attempted to fake my way into self-generated happiness with a commitment to lose the 20 or so pounds I ate myself into during the last 3 years of emotional desperation. But really I was trying to fill my time while I waited for him to see the light, the result was lots of pretty words and promises traded back and forth while I secretly stuffed the Easter reserve of candy for my kids into the fat bags I like to carry on my back and around my waist and hips. And still I get out of bed everyday, and still I try to get the basics done. But I constantly feel like a criminal, a fugitive, an outcast, a failure within my own life. I hide, sneak, pray and slip in under the wire. This is not life, this is a very gray zone. And still most of my energy is spent in shock that the love we had didn't grow and didn't die. It is a hairshirt I put on willingly everyday. I've resorted to calling him and extracting apologies on a daily basis for everything he doesn't understand and therefore doesn't take care of. I have to go, I have to, and yet I don't want to. This was the real thing, this was the drug of being in love, this was the best I've ever felt in life. How could it not have been that forever? What is left for me now? It's all so cliche -- I feel empty, I feel unlovable, I can't fully enjoy what I normally love, I feel lost. All of my willpower is gone...
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