Believer Dreams
Earning My Ears
- Joined
- Oct 29, 2010
- Messages
- 25
It was bad. Really bad. It was the relationship crisis moment that I was dreading and yet, somehow knew it was never going to avoid us.
Derrick and I had made it to 9 years. Celebrated each year I thought with laughter and fond memories and now, as we approached year 10, I knew that I might not be able to say we ever made it to year 11.
It hit me like a blow to the abdomen when I read his e-mail. Like when you were a kid and fell off your bike and the wind flew out of your lungs faster than you could imagine was possible. You then lay helpless, the rough asphalt pressed against your cheek and you tucked your knees into your chest and rocked slowly. Hoping the motion will wind back time and your body will remember how to breathe again. Then when the air does manage to filter into your chest, the pain only increases and you think you may possibly just die.
That death is the only reason something could possibly hurt so bad and scare you so much and make you feel so small and helpless.
That e-mail was equivalent to my marriage's bike fall. And as I lie on my bed, our bed, I wanted to die then too. Because nothing could hurt as bad as what I was feeling. Nothing could be as raw and wounded as my heart and soul were, flayed open for the whole world to see. It was in that snippet of time, that rare minute moment, I was faced with the reality that my prince may have abandoned the castle and I never had even thought of pulling the drawbridge up. It was as if I always had believed we were safe in our marriage and now, I knew that the mortar and stone had been crumbling away for awhile and I did not know how to patch it.
The irony of that moment as I felt the tears puddle beneath my head on the quilt my grandmother had given us on our wedding day, was drastic and profound. The salty remnants connected me to the best day of my life and the worst one. My sobs subsided and I became conscious of the suitcases spread on the ground below me.
We were leaving for Disney the next morning and that was supposed to have been our happy place. The place we went to for fun and fantasy. How much fantasy was it going to take to pretend we were all right? How much pixie dust and Bibbity bobbity boo, would it require to erase words that stung and jabbed like a boxer had inflicted them? What could possibly be almost spiritual about walking up Main Street USA, when the person you loved, had always loved, wanted a different life than the one he had with you? How could we still go and how could we not? If it was to be our last trip as he suggested, than what part of me would not relish in capturing every minute in my memory bank? Would it be possible to go and not think, This will be the last time I ever do this or that with him again.
I felt like I had been given warning that my death was imminent and now had the choice of how to handle the time I had left. I had always thought I would want to know ahead of time for something like your death so you could prepare. Polish up what you wanted to leave behind and make the most of what was left of time. Now, I was thinking that being left in the dark would have been better. There is a bliss in being unaware. There is a peace in the uncertainty of distance.
When I run I do not want to know how many miles I have gone and how many I have left to go. I just want to run till I cant run anymore and then, go back. I naively, always assumed there was a back, to go to.
Not so and that is why I wanted to write my story. Our story. The story of a trip that was meant to be a getaway and ended up being a last chance. Our last chance.
People say that Disney himself, believed in the power of hope and never doubted his imagination and drive could take him past what others would have settled for. Well, I channeled Walt the whole trip. I knew if I was going to make it through this, I needed to be optimistic and reverent in my beliefs we could come out the other side better. I woke up the next morning and believed I could work my way back to where we had been. I had to believe for nothing is impossible in the land of possibilities.
Some people say that my love for Disney is a little bit crazy. I used to get uptight and annoyed with the nay Sayers and non Disney lovers. I used to have to feel the need to prove my sanity and how I could not help loving all things Disney.
Now, months after that trip, I dont have to prove myself to them or anyone else. In fact that is the reason I write this. I wanted to share my Disney Magic and encourage all of you to look for the magic in your trips that dont include hotel upgrades or front of the line entries. If sharing my marriage and our self made magic in the House of the Mouse, helps anyone enjoy their trip a bit more or relax a bit better and participate in their own lives instead of having the mindset that you are paying to be entertained, than exposing this hurt was well worth it.
I really wondered if I should write this and I know I will get some flack from some that want only good times and cheer in their TRs but maybe, just maybe, someone out there will take this message of hope to their darkest place and believe for themselves what nobody else can.
I entered this trip thinking my marriage was over. I left the trip more committed than ever to him and myself. Not to a marriage, but to us.
I hope you stay for the journey and I promise I will post some pictures on the way. There will be none of us but there will be many of the places and spots that made a difference. Yes, I am writing this with a new avatar and Dis name. I have been on here for quite some time and although feel comfortable enough for you all to read about most of my life, there will be some things shared here that will lead to me wanting some anonymity. Some things I am not proud of and some my husband is not either. If that upsets some of you I am sorry you feel that way. If you can look past the authors pen name and focus on the content, I promise you, this TR will not be one to forget.
Next: Departure Morning and a whole lot of tissues.
Derrick and I had made it to 9 years. Celebrated each year I thought with laughter and fond memories and now, as we approached year 10, I knew that I might not be able to say we ever made it to year 11.
It hit me like a blow to the abdomen when I read his e-mail. Like when you were a kid and fell off your bike and the wind flew out of your lungs faster than you could imagine was possible. You then lay helpless, the rough asphalt pressed against your cheek and you tucked your knees into your chest and rocked slowly. Hoping the motion will wind back time and your body will remember how to breathe again. Then when the air does manage to filter into your chest, the pain only increases and you think you may possibly just die.
That death is the only reason something could possibly hurt so bad and scare you so much and make you feel so small and helpless.
That e-mail was equivalent to my marriage's bike fall. And as I lie on my bed, our bed, I wanted to die then too. Because nothing could hurt as bad as what I was feeling. Nothing could be as raw and wounded as my heart and soul were, flayed open for the whole world to see. It was in that snippet of time, that rare minute moment, I was faced with the reality that my prince may have abandoned the castle and I never had even thought of pulling the drawbridge up. It was as if I always had believed we were safe in our marriage and now, I knew that the mortar and stone had been crumbling away for awhile and I did not know how to patch it.
The irony of that moment as I felt the tears puddle beneath my head on the quilt my grandmother had given us on our wedding day, was drastic and profound. The salty remnants connected me to the best day of my life and the worst one. My sobs subsided and I became conscious of the suitcases spread on the ground below me.
We were leaving for Disney the next morning and that was supposed to have been our happy place. The place we went to for fun and fantasy. How much fantasy was it going to take to pretend we were all right? How much pixie dust and Bibbity bobbity boo, would it require to erase words that stung and jabbed like a boxer had inflicted them? What could possibly be almost spiritual about walking up Main Street USA, when the person you loved, had always loved, wanted a different life than the one he had with you? How could we still go and how could we not? If it was to be our last trip as he suggested, than what part of me would not relish in capturing every minute in my memory bank? Would it be possible to go and not think, This will be the last time I ever do this or that with him again.
I felt like I had been given warning that my death was imminent and now had the choice of how to handle the time I had left. I had always thought I would want to know ahead of time for something like your death so you could prepare. Polish up what you wanted to leave behind and make the most of what was left of time. Now, I was thinking that being left in the dark would have been better. There is a bliss in being unaware. There is a peace in the uncertainty of distance.
When I run I do not want to know how many miles I have gone and how many I have left to go. I just want to run till I cant run anymore and then, go back. I naively, always assumed there was a back, to go to.
Not so and that is why I wanted to write my story. Our story. The story of a trip that was meant to be a getaway and ended up being a last chance. Our last chance.
People say that Disney himself, believed in the power of hope and never doubted his imagination and drive could take him past what others would have settled for. Well, I channeled Walt the whole trip. I knew if I was going to make it through this, I needed to be optimistic and reverent in my beliefs we could come out the other side better. I woke up the next morning and believed I could work my way back to where we had been. I had to believe for nothing is impossible in the land of possibilities.
Some people say that my love for Disney is a little bit crazy. I used to get uptight and annoyed with the nay Sayers and non Disney lovers. I used to have to feel the need to prove my sanity and how I could not help loving all things Disney.
Now, months after that trip, I dont have to prove myself to them or anyone else. In fact that is the reason I write this. I wanted to share my Disney Magic and encourage all of you to look for the magic in your trips that dont include hotel upgrades or front of the line entries. If sharing my marriage and our self made magic in the House of the Mouse, helps anyone enjoy their trip a bit more or relax a bit better and participate in their own lives instead of having the mindset that you are paying to be entertained, than exposing this hurt was well worth it.
I really wondered if I should write this and I know I will get some flack from some that want only good times and cheer in their TRs but maybe, just maybe, someone out there will take this message of hope to their darkest place and believe for themselves what nobody else can.
I entered this trip thinking my marriage was over. I left the trip more committed than ever to him and myself. Not to a marriage, but to us.
I hope you stay for the journey and I promise I will post some pictures on the way. There will be none of us but there will be many of the places and spots that made a difference. Yes, I am writing this with a new avatar and Dis name. I have been on here for quite some time and although feel comfortable enough for you all to read about most of my life, there will be some things shared here that will lead to me wanting some anonymity. Some things I am not proud of and some my husband is not either. If that upsets some of you I am sorry you feel that way. If you can look past the authors pen name and focus on the content, I promise you, this TR will not be one to forget.
Next: Departure Morning and a whole lot of tissues.
