There’s something about Mondays. I’ve noticed that I struggle more on Mondays. I get a little panicky, randomly throughout the day. I feel anxiety creeping up on me. I push it aside and try my best to just push through it.
But why Mondays? I mean, there were obviously instances of contact between the two of them in some way or another on any given day of the week, but Mondays were my girls night out. It’s the night that I meet up with my sisters and close friends every week to have dinner and watch the Bachelor. It’s the day that she would text him asking if I was gone yet. If it was safe to call. It was the night every week that they couldn’t wait for me to get out the door, because it meant they had probably at least thirty minutes to an hour of uninterrupted phone time before her husband got home from work. It’s a night that if they were both working, he didn’t have to rush home afterwards and had more time to spend with her. I had no idea what was going on at the time. But now that I know, the feelings that brings has made what is supposed to be a fun night somewhat difficult.
I know that is not how he spends his time now. So I push through those feelings and I try not to let it steal my time or my fun with my favorite ladies. Let me tell you something about those ladies. They are my constants. My supporters, my defenders, my encouragers. And they are funny, y’all. Seriously some of the best people on the planet. I am so blessed to have them. And let’s not forget the food. Because really, the food is half of the fun, right?
So I go and I enjoy my time with them, but it is sometimes interspersed with moments of this inner struggle with my thoughts, and having to remind myself that this panicky feeling is an illusion, that all that is over and he is not at home talking to her. I’m really good at holding it in and pushing it back. No one can really tell because I’m so quick to push it back, (except Jeff, he can see it, no matter how well I think I’m hiding it, he can always see it) and I think I’m handling it well, but by the time I make it home and have a shower and get in bed, the stress of fighting those thoughts all day bubbles to the surface and I end up crying it out. Purging it from my system so I can sleep. So I can keep from carrying it into the next day.
Sure, I have moments, hours even that I don’t think about it. That it doesn’t sit in the forefront of my mind, instead it stays tucked away, back in the corner where it doesn’t hurt so much. I can have days now where I almost feel normal even. Days that I can almost forget it happened. That’s progress for sure. And I am thankful for that. There are also still the moments when the reality of it hits me. That he was kissing someone else. Holding her, touching her, being intimate with her. Telling her he loved her. I think about the first time he came home late. Before all this started, he never came home late. I remember I had cooked a nice meal. I made his plate expecting him any minute. He didn’t show up and I texted him. No response. The food was getting cold. The girls and I ate without him. I remember feeling uneasy. Not that it occurred to me to worry he was with someone else. I mean, I’m sure it occurred to me, but not in a serious sense, not in a way that it was anything I actually thought he would do. Just uneasy because he wasn’t ever late and I couldn’t get in touch with him.
I wrapped up his food. In reality, he was not working late. He had walked out on time, walked to the parking lot, and instead of getting in his car and coming home to me, he made the decision to follow through with an invitation to meet her in her car. He told me his replacement showed up late so he couldn’t leave. He lied to me like it was easy. Why was it so easy? And then the why’s start pouring in. Coursing through my mind like river rapids, each turn bringing another unanswerable why. I have to be careful to not be carried away with the why’s. The why’s suck me into a dark place and if I’m not careful I could drown in them. Because there are no real answers to the why’s. And even if there were, there are no answers that would be justified, or make sense of any of it. I have to let go of the why’s. There are no explanations of why that could take away the pain, or make it hurt any less. And focusing on answering an unanswerable question brings nothing but torment. So I HAVE to let go of the why’s.
Those moments when it all catches up with me and I break down are hard. But they are also important. Important because I do get through them. Because I can beat them. Because I know God is bigger than my bad days. Because I know that I went a little bit longer this time between bad days. Because I know better days are ahead. And because every time I break down, I see my pain reflected in Jeff’s eyes. I see his remorse, I see how much his heart breaks that he broke mine. And that helps me heal.
So, yes, there’s just been something about Mondays. And I don’t like it. I don’t like where it takes me. I don’t like that it brings me anxiety on a night that is supposed to be relaxing and fun. So, from this day forward, I’m taking Mondays back. That’s how I move forward. I identify the things that bring the bad thoughts. I allow myself the necessary moments to grieve. I purge it out. I find the patterns. Then I fight. I fight to take it back. To reclaim my days. To reclaim my sanity. To reclaim my joy.
One day at a time.
Amy Thurston Gordy