I wish I could tell you that I handled every moment from the time I found out about the first affair to the moment our divorce was finalized like an absolute lady. I wish I could say that no ugly words came out of my mouth and that all my thoughts were completely pure and well intentioned. I wish I could swear that I kept my head on my shoulders constantly and never faultered in my actions. But that would be a lie. And I’ve already come this far, no point in lying now.
I’m certainly not trying to air my dirty laundry, and this story is gross, so if you have a queasy stomach I apologize in advance. I just feel that it’s equally as important to tell the story of my weaknesses as it is to tell the story of my triumphs. And, honestly, no one gets out of a situation like this without some emotional bumps and bruises, as well as some poor choices they can’t take back. If I’m choosing to tell this story, it’s not fair to not tell the WHOLE story…so here we go.
As previously mentioned, I have some of the best girlfriends in the entire world, who basically stopped their lives to get me through my year from hell. The weekend after our adventure with the Rockettes, I was feeling particularly defiant. My friends had invited me to come out to Queens for a day of shopping and manicures, then food, drink, and Christmas movies! That afternoon I told my husband what I was doing and trotted out of the apartment. I didn’t ask permission, I just went. I told him I would be home that evening, but I wasn’t sure what time. Look at me behaving all high and mighty, instead of humbling myself before my husband (my first mistake of the evening).
I had a great day. Manicures, followed by shopping at little boutiques around Queens…and then it started snowing. Not the gross and dirty city-type snowing, but the magical and sparkling first snow of the season snowfall. We got caught up in the excitement of it all and turned giddy taking pictures of each other while the snow fell around us. Those were the beautiful moments, when God gave me pockets of peace. His little reminders to just keep going, he was still with me.
This is when we got the bright idea to make peppermint martinis. Which actually was a great idea in theory. We frolicked back to their apartment where Tiff bartended and Brittany cooked dinner and I marveled at their selflessness. This is where I can fastforward a little and just let you know that I plain and simple drank too much. Call it drinking to forget or numb the pain or just wanting to stay in the happy moment, the end result is that I was drunk (my second mistake). And, in being drunk, time got away from me. Uh Oh…here comes that anxiety ridden, crazy feeling again. I had to get home. He was going to be furious. The panic was setting in.
Somehow I gather my belongings and shopping bag (I can remember to this day what I bought on this joyride of mine) and I get into a cab. Don’t ask me how I got the cab, I don’t remember…maybe Tiffany or Brittany can recall the details better than I. For awhile, I’m doing ok. I’m sitting in the back of this cab, drunk as a skunk, a 30 year old woman, who’s husband has gone insane…and I’m trying desperately to keep it together. And y’all, I almost made it. But I didn’t. And now I am a 30 year old woman vomiting peppermint martinis all over the back of this cab (my third mistake). But, and here’s the hilarious part, I’m trying to hide the fact that I’m throwing up all over this guy’s backseat because, even in my drunken state, I know he can throw me out of his car for this. Mercifully, we make it back to my street. He’s pissed, and he should be. He throws me a roll of paper towels and we both start cleaning out the back seat of his taxi. He’s muttering at me, but I don’t understand what he’s saying. I tip him an ungodly amount, because that’s all I can think of to do, and I head up the five flights of steps to my apartment.
It’s not over. Oh no. I make it to my apartment, where my husband is asleep and I’m trying to clean myself off…and then I feel it coming again. I make it to the bathroom, and I truly think I’m being careful and clean…this was not the case. But all of a sudden, I don’t really much care. I get ready for bed, lay down next to my husband and say “You’re going to need to clean the bathroom tomorrow” before I finally pass out.
Micah 7:8 “Rejoice not over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me.”