Blame
I do not find him to be beyond blame of course but I do blame myself. I blame myself for letting my second pregnancy blind me to the rest of reality. It was such a different experience from last time. I knew the second we conceived. I knew the timing was not good but I did not care. I was happy to have a second child before the window closed completely. In time I actually came to be elated she was a girl as well. I took it as a final sign that we were meant to be together, that despite our differences we had a love we wanted to culture and this new baby was the cement. It wasn't a sign! It was the inevitable happening of two people screwing without too much thought to the consequences. It was me not speaking up for the responsible thing to do, given his predilection to ignore safe sex. I am taking all of this to heart, very personally as just one big mess. Don't confuse my feelings on our sexual history to mean anything relevant towards the life of my little babe. I adore her! She delights me at every step of the way. My pregnancy was extraordinary. It was tranformative.
I blame myself for thinking that once our sexual life improved the rest was butter. That over time we would meld into one another, our extremes mellowing out until we found a middle ground we both could be happy with. I guess I also let his quietness towards our differences in religion be enough to feel he was listening to my needs. I told myself that his hours of endless gaming was just who he was, trying not to focus on how little quality attention I or our children were getting. I blame myself for not listening to my gut all those years ago and fighting for a real starting over. I let my fear of passing up "the real thing" coax me into trying again. All the while it still nagging at me that he wouldn't quite own up to his part in the betrayal I felt. I blame myself for all the times I've bitten my tongue when my feelings where cut to the quick. I believed I was enough to break through his tough exterior.
I should have known things weren't right so many times before and then it all fell to the wayside. I committed myself to this life, and I was happy. So blissfully happy that I'm now stranded somewhere SO unfamiliar I am lost at every turn. All the rest is the past I guess. These last 12 months are what counted. Snuggling on the couch, a change in his work schedule so we could all co exist together, unexpected flowers, tenderness during my labor, a Happy Valentine's gift when I surprised him with the sex of our daughter, him tossing his fake Christmas tree, going to bed together most nights, the easyness about all the little gross things. At some point you get a little sad when you realize that you now are so comfortable with someone you can talk on the toilet, then at the same time you realize it's a fact of life and you are sharing a life. I thought these were all the little things that kept you going. I guess I was wrong. Now that I've had some time I guess I've seen the pattern deteriorating. I didn't see it coming but oh lovely hindsight. As before at the very end of his rope he throws out dramatic signals and gives only one chance to grab hold. I recall that one night before this nightmare unfolded he compared me to his ex wife. It was something mundane, our attitude towards soda or something. I guess that was the end for him, he saw our life going the path of their marriage.
How did I let myself be satisfied with marrying someone that said "name the date and I'll be there", or who didn't care to run out and get a marriage band, or who complained about marriage destroying our tax return?
It really is time for me to write the venomous letter that sits unread. I hold off for 2 reasons. One, I am certain that as I draft the letter I will eventually fall into the pattern of blaming myself or listing all the additional ways I'm willing to sacrifice myself. Two, I don't want it to go unread. I want him to read each and every word and I want it to break him until he realizes how much he has destroyed me. He will never comprehend that though.