my truth

So it's early morning and I haven't been able to sleep tonight I've spent the best part of the early hours reading through old blog post, laughing at all the things I use to write.  It's scary how some things are still the same , the old worries, fears and wishes for things to be different.  But what is even more scary is just how different other things are.

I couldn't help in an un-conceited way to realise how funny, crazy and happy (even in the not so happy posts) I was.  If I wasn't reading my own words I would have been jealous of her, at how funny, expressive, smart and creative she was.

Ohhh how I wish I still was all of that.  I don't quite know how or why, but over the last few years I lost sight of that girl.  That fun, crazy, only wants to make you laugh - even if it's at her own expense - loud, smart, talkative girl.

I don't think many of the people who knew me back then would recognise me now.   I'm quite, I don't poke fun at myself, I can't remember the last time I truly laughed with someone until I cried.  For the most part I keep to myself and try not to say boo to a fly.

I want to say so much but I don't.  There isn't really a point anymore.  I use to open up so easily and just blurt out what ever came into my head, but now I close off and filter every word.  I don't even know if I will post this. Because although I think no one will really read this (as everyone who ever read this has long ago stopped reading) there is that what if, what if someone does, I don't want anyone to worry unnecessarily,  I don't want anyone's pity and most importantly I don't want the people who have hurt me to read this and think they have 'won' either.

But maybe the only way back to that girl I remember and would love to be again.  To write it all out, post it and just keep writing until I find her again.   After all I have always found that writing is the one thing that grounds me.   It's my version of cheap therapy.

So I guess I will start here.   I will address the whole 'people who have hurt me' thing.  The biggest one has to be the name that is mentioned many times over in past blog posts.   A name I would like to scrub out of every last one, but in doing that I would scrubbing out a lot of my life.   Half of my life has been spent around that one person.   I can't bring myself to type his name but I guess I should force myself too.

Awhile ago I ran into the old 'in-laws' and found out some news that had way too much of an impact on my life then it should have.  I found out that only 10 months after Stacy and I had finally split, he was engaged, but not to the women he created on me with, but to a friend he had meet at uni when we had first gotten back together. Lucky for me not only do I know their 'how we meet story', but I have meet her more then once, I even have photos of them together posted to this very same blog as I found out tonight (must remember to go delete that!).

They got married in April - a week after my birthday funny enough.

I don't know what was worse, the way his mum seemed so pleased and happy to tell me the news or the shock that here I was still trying to piece back my trust and he was married.   Of course I did all the normal self harm things, I tracked down every Facebook connection I could,  I saw that she had changed her last name, a name that I had dreamt about changing mine to for so long.  I saw the wedding photos and as I tried to sleep that night in my bed, the very bed that I had spent the last year trying to get the image of him sleeping with someone else in out of my head....  I realised that he was sleeping next to his wife and certainly not giving me a single last thought.

Maybe though the worst thing is that I do know the person he now calls wife.  I liked her, I cared about her, I can find no fault with her.   I wonder what stories about us he has told everyone.  Did he tell them it was amicable? What was his version of the truth?  Is he is even capable of knowing what that is.  I have wondered if he made me out to be the 'bad' guy?  I doubt he told them everything, after all he didn't even tell me! The only way I found out was because I didn't accept his words at face value and dug a little deeper.   By the time we broke up I had very little to do with his family anymore so had no reason to talk to them once it was all over.  The few times we did run into them, they would just talk to him and ignore me, which was fine with me by then.

For weeks I have turned everything over in my head again and again.  I've played the conversation I had with his mum over and over.  I wish I had said more, I wish I'd not stopped to say hello.  I wish I hadn't of been so rocked by the news but most of all I wish for once it wasn't me being left hurt again.

I've found myself wanting to ask his wife so many questions....

Does she know his Dad isn't his real Dad yet?  That he really is a bastard in the literal sense of the word.

Does she know that she isn't the first girl he's brought an engagement ring for?

Did he tell her that the first time we broke up (after five years together and a marriage proposal) he'd said it was because he needed space to find himself.   When what he really had meant (and wouldn't admit to even when asked point blank)  was that he'd fallen in love with someone else.  A women who he worked with,  who happened to also be engaged to the father of her two children.

Did he tell her how they broke up her family for a few weeks, until she went back to her finance.  A choice I don't think he's ever gotten over.  I wonder if he has told her the truth about that whole story, a truth I've always believed he never really told me.

What about this time around, what story has he told about that.  Another five years together, another ending.

Did he tell her that it was a mix of us growing apart, me not holding up my end of the deal with the whole work thing, that he tried but it just wasn't right?

Did he tell her how in those last six months he'd been having an affair with a married co-worker.  That he'd slept with her in our bed while I was away.   That he'd kissed me good night and then gone to bed dreaming of someone else.  That when he said he loved me, he was in love with someone else (again).  That he hung out with not only her children but her husband as well!! That he'd wanted her to leave her husband (and family) for him and when she didn't, she broke his heart?

Did he tell her the even bigger secret?  About the baby that could never be?

Does she know that he never had the balls to come clean, even when given the chance countless times. Has he told her about all the lies he said to my face.  That even though he knew exactly how much hurt and pain the choices he made would put me through, he did it all anyway because he throughout it would be an interesting experience?!

Did he tell her about how I found out about the affair and for weeks had to keep quite about knowing all about it as we where still living under the same roof.  Did he tell her that I never yelled or did all the things I now wish I had of.   Did he mention how he didn't even really try to cover up the affair, that he left a box of condoms in the bedside table for me to find when I was cleaning out the room that once had been our bedroom.  That even when asked about the condoms he still didn't tell the truth and take responsibility for what he'd done.

Did he drag out all my faults out as the reasons for him to leave?  After all I do have many faults it's true and my one was in loving and trusting him.

Oh how I wish I could go back in time to when our paths crossed again.  I wish I'd not called, not emailed, not text'd, not fallen in love with him all over again.  How I wish I could have all that time back.