So I was up before the dawn this morning. In my part of the world, spring is slowly starting to come to life. There's no leaves showing on the trees and the grass is still brown, but I see little stirrings happening. The wind is getting a little warmer, the sun is staying up longer. 

Outside my window, I heard a robin chirping. He has come back to my neighborhood every year since my STBXAH and I bought this house five years ago. He likes to sit on the ventpipe on the roof of the house next door and sing his little birdie heart out. He surveys the neighborhood and gives us the daily report.

In the past, this is a time that we would get excited about - time to start planting our garden, start up the water fountain in the backyard, rake up and clean out the long winter. 

This morning, that bird's call brought me no joy.

Yesterday, I did it. I went to his rehab and read him my letter and gave him the completed divorce papers he asked for about a month ago.

It was by far the worst day of my life.

I'm so glad someone drove the three hours there and back with me because I cried the entire 500-mile round trip. Sobbing, "God please take me now" crying. As Oprah would put it, it was the "ugly cry".

Sleep only came last night because I was so exhausted and with the help of modern medicine.

How many times in the last 10 years did I stand in the shower, sobbing and praying for this pain to be taken away? How many times did I beg my husband and my HP for the craziness to end? 

From the moment I arrived to the rehab yesterday to the time I left, my husband grabbed and held my hand. I sat next to him as I read my letter. I was going to be "strong" and not cry as I read it, but from the second I took it out of my purse, I lost it. It was a really good letter - strong but not shaming, powerful but not hateful. I was pretty proud of it. 

We started getting in the nuts and bolts of the issues. I knew it was bad - all those years of abuse he suffered as a child messed with his head horribly. But I didn't realize how mortifying his state really is. He is a sick, sick, sick man. And that's what broke my heart. No one deserves to live the life he did growing up. I still harbor resentments against his mom and his stepdad for the damage done (am trying to work on that but it will take a L-O-N-G time for me to forgive. I'll never forget.)

He told me that he loved me and always will. that all I needed to do was call me and he'd be there in a flash.

He told me that he could never feel intimate with me, despite all we had gone through together. His therapist started talking about the "good wife" versus the "roll in the hay" lifestyle that he has lived. It brought back my memories of studying psychology in college - the "Madonna-Whore Complex" stuff that Freud concocted.

I explained to him that I couldn't feel safe being intimate with him - that it means more to me than just a roll in the sack. It's spiritual; it's trust; it's connection.  I never knew who he was communicating with, either through cyberspace or in person and that made me feel unsafe. I don't think he understands what I said at this point, but I felt better knowing he was going that deep - past the symptom of alcoholism and to the root of his pain. I was proud of him.

I also don't think he understands the finality of this decision. I told him I was going to miss our fishing trips on our little boat. He said "we can still do that - I want us to still do things together." As much as I would love that to happen, I don't think I could handle it at this point in my recovery.

He did say that we could make arrangements for me to have our dog that is currently in his mistress's posession for visits. That really helped - since I don't have children, our two boys are my furry little sons. I dd go by the vets and picked up his doggie arthritis medicine and took it with me for this meeting - it's not fair to have an animal suffer because of insanity.

His therapist said that I was much more intuitive and insightful than him at this point. I could see that. Some of the things he said made me go "HUH?????" It made me honestly realize the depth of his sickness, one which the therapist said could take years of intensive therapy to help.

I gave him the papers I had prepared. He said he would take a look at them and if he didn't see any issues would sign, notarize and send them back to me ASAP.

He asked me to call him when I got home to make sure I made it OK. I told him I would. We hugged and cried and kissed goodbye. We both said we were sorry and that we loved each other. 

When I got home, I called the rehab as promised. Nurse who answered said that they was getting ready to go to dinner and asked if I could call back in 1/2 hour. I said sure. Then, the nurse said, "this isn't (mistress's name) calling again (her emphasis), is it?" I said "no, this is his wife". Long silence. "OK - I'll give him the message you called."

My husband called less than a minute later. I wonder what the nurse told him.

But I know I needed to hear that - thank you HP! Just confirming my belief that I was right on target with this crazy woman...I can see she is even more co-dependent and sicker than me. Nice to know that in a twisted kind of way. I know that's not Al-Anon-y, but I'm working on it, all right? LOL :)

Anyhow, when the robin woke me up this morning, in my half-sleep, I almost rolled over and said "Honey - Mr. Robin is back! It's time to work on our garden!" But then I realized  that our past is no longer my future. Cue the bricks falling on my head and the sword going through my heart. Yeouch.

Today, all I can do is breathe and pray, breathe and pray.

All I have at this point are old memories that are grinding a rut as they circle around in my brain. HP, please help me to get new memories as time goes on. Help me to remember the good AND the bad - help me to remember the prayer I called out to you over and over again for the last 10 years. You heard me, have put me in the right place, now I just need to get through it. I need Your help.