Exactly 5 Years Ago

Our very last of "The Talks" happened on New Year's Eve 2010.  Instead of having a panic attack that time, it was the time that I told to myself that I was going to trying everything that I could do to make us work because it was going to be the last time.  I took that vow as Dale spewed out the same words as in all of the other talks.  I did speak up enough to tell him, when he got to the part that maybe we didn't belong together and that perhaps a divorce is inevitable, that if I ever said those words to him, they weren't going to be an empty threat.  If I said them, I was going to mean them.

I have no regrets about the things that I did that January and February.  I initiated, I stepped outside of my boundary lines, I gave it my all.  I have no regrets because had I not done what I had, I may have been left with the "what if?" questions.  There were none.  I had given my all to my marriage without doubt and I knew deep in my heart that I had nothing left to give.  I was not the one for Dale, and he was not the one for me.

Less then 50 days after our final talk, I broke.  We were visiting my family over winter break, just like I am on right now.  It was the middle of the night and our son woke up.  I got up to comfort him.  Dale walked in and told me that he'd take over.  Sounds like a kind, caring, and loving act.  That was the straw that broke my camel's back.  I wanted to be with my son that night.  I needed to be with him.  Dale insisted that I go back to bed.  But I didn't sleep.  That is the moment that I woke up.  For the first time in years, I was awake.  My eyes were open and I couldn't pretend anymore.

I was in an abusive relationship.  I was in an abusive relationship.  It wasn't about the depression.  It wasn't about Dale's illness.  It was about the way that Dale treated me.  The way that I had been treated for years, and I couldn't do it anymore.

The evening that I awoke was the night that Dale and I were supposed to double-date with my best friend and her husband.  Because we had dinner the night before at my sister's house, he felt that he had done his part and didn't need to take part on this double-date.  My friend's husband didn't go as a result and that left me and my best friend for 20 years to have "the dinner" of all dinners.

She came to pick me up and we drove but just a few blocks before I had to say, "I am in an abusive relationship."  She immediately broke into tears because deep down, she had suspected and feared that.  I was never willing or ready to entertain that notion, ever.  Not until then.  Not until I knew for sure and I did.  There was no turning back from that moment.

I believe that it was exactly five years ago today, February 19th, that Dale and I arrived back home in New York City after a very tense and quiet drive back from my parent's house.  When arrived home, that is when I told him that I couldn't take it anymore.  Our relationship was toxic.

Over the course of the past few years, Dale had progressively got more hostile, angry, and resentful towards me.  It seemed too energetic for it to be his depression, although I knew he still suffered.  I had always viewed him as a man, who had an illness.  I saw him first, not the illness, but the illness was always there and I knew it.  However, I didn't blame the illness for the way that Dale was treating me.   I blamed the person.  After all, he was a person.  I just didn't know how deeply he was consumed by his illness.  I didn't think it was going to be easy or pretty, but he had told me himself so many times that perhaps we didn't belong together.  It shouldn't have been so shocking and I certainly didn't think that telling him that I had enough, was going to cause him to unravel.  But it did.

Virginia: 2006

When I look back on our lives together, there were always red flags.  From the very beginning they were there.  They are easier to detect now then they were back then when I was so young and in the moment.  But despite that, deep down, I knew they were there.  However, in the beginning, there weren't many and Dale was an amazing person.  What I got in return was worth it.  What I didn't know and couldn't prepare myself for was the downward spiral that we found ourselves in.  I don't know what happened or what caused it, but a pivotal point came during our last year in Virginia.  We hit a point and snowballed down the hill until the very end.

Dale had started a new job that year.  A new job meant new people and these new people sparked Dale to share their stories of love and lust with me.  One woman had just ended a long relationship and she was taking advantage of this freedom to explore herself sexually.  Dale thought that we should do the same.  One man was openly gay.  Dale admired him for being able to just be himself.  A younger colleague had just lost her virginity.  She was dating an older man and was trying all sorts of kinky things.  Dale wanted to throw that into our mix.  Another woman had a crush on Dale.  It gave him the idea that perhaps we should let someone in and watch, during our intimate moments together.  It seemed as though everyday he came home with a new story.  They all revolved around sex and soon enough, things started to revolve around sex in our relationship as well.

This is when I began to notice the ingenuity of his actions.  He began to keep score.  He mentally tallied up the things that he did for me and what I did for him.  He, of course, far outweighed me and it started off where he would joke that I owed him something.  Then it turned into him being serious about it and it began to turn sexual as well.

I am all for people doing behind closed doors whatever it is that makes them happy... as long as what they are doing isn't hurting or negativity effecting someone else.  At this point, we had been together for nearly 9 years.  I wanted us to have a happy and healthy intimate life together.  I didn't want it to become boring and infrequent.  I didn't mind trying new things, but I did have boundaries.  My boundaries were not respected and were under constant discussion with hopes of negotiation.

This was also the time that "The Talks" began.  These talks happened about every 6 months and were about the same 3 things.  1.  Dale's depression and how I am not helping enough.  I was told that I needed to do more because I was actually causing it to worsen.  My love was questioned.  2.  Sex.  I didn't initiate it enough.  It was getting boring.  3.  Sometimes that changed, but it usually was about my lack of domestic skills.  Now, think of a convincing lawyer.  That is how Dale sounded.  He presented his issues with me in a caring and loving way.  His words were chosen so carefully that it was hard to dispute anything.  And when I did, my words were twisted and I was left feeling even worse.  I felt confused.  I felt like I was wrong.  I didn't trust myself and my own thoughts.  Those talks took a piece of my spirit away every time. It came to the point where at first I started to clam up.  It was better to not say anything than to say something and have your own words twisted in a way that you didn't even know how else to explain yourself.  Towards the end, I began to have mini anxiety attacks when I knew these talks were about to happen.  My head would feel dizzy and my heart would palpitate.  I had such a hard time breathing that I couldn't talk, even if I wanted to.  I couldn't even cry anymore.

Virginia:  2006.... the red flags started to take over.  I was so caught up in my own mental mess that I couldn't see it.  There was so much that I couldn't see.

A Long December

December of 2010 is remembered as being grey.  I don't have many memories or details of that month, only the color grey to describe it best.  Perhaps that is because it was the silent month.  It was the month that Dale ignored me, as much as he could, for a two people who were raising a child together and doing so in an 800 square foot home.  This was the month of my forgotten birthday.   The month that I was told that he loved our son so much that he didn't have any extra love for me.  The month that once it ended, I was told that he purposefully silenced our month so that I would know how it felt.  He said that was how I made him feel.  

He had my love, trust, loyalty, attention, friendship... mind, heart, and body.  He had it all, including my spirit and he had crushed it so much that there was very little left of it.  I was one step above being a zombie.  

I never thought that I could cure Dale and his illness.  I knew that wasn't possible.  I wanted to be a part of the happiness in his life though.  At one point there was a lot of laughter and fun times.  I thought that we could build on that.  I thought that if we built a strong life together filled with wonderful memories, that he could use that to help him face the dark times.  That's what I thought my role was.  That's what I wanted my gift to Dale to be.  I knew that I couldn't fight his battle for him, but I had hoped that I could add on to his supply of ammunition to keep on fighting.  

That December... it changed things.  It may have been dark and grey but it was my moment of clarity.  Dale was a master at hiding his illness.  That month, he did just that and made me believe that it was me, not his illness.   He wasn't happy with  me.  

I was never good enough which is why he was always trying to change it.  He tried to improve me to what he envisioned happiness or perfection or whatever word you want to throw in there, looked like to him.  It didn't matter what I was wearing, what color my hair was, what words I said, what actions I took... nothing was good enough.  I realized that I literally had nothing left to give.  

November 2010

Dale had a keen sense for fashion.  He worked in retail so it was part of his job, but he definitely knew what he liked both for himself and for me.  He gifted me many clothes, complete outfits, jewelry, shoes, and handbags throughout the years.  So much so that it would be fair to say that  75% of my closet was made up of clothes picked out by him.

In the beginning, it was really sweet and appreciated.  Whose boyfriend does that?   No one that I knew.  It made me feel like he paid attention to me and to little details about me.  When I met him, it was in the late 90's and I was kind of into that somewhat grungy look.  I wore really big clothes, not flattering for my petite frame, and I wouldn't call my style feminine either.

Dale was the first to initiate more form fitting/flattering clothes.  He complimented me when I wore them and showed off my body more.  He helped to make me feel more pretty and confident and I started to embrace the style of clothes that he introduced and supplied me with.  We had a lot of fun together, going shopping, for me.  He was better than going shopping with a girlfriend.  I defined my sense of fashion by what pleased him and still to this day, my choice in clothing still reminds me of him and his influence on me.

At some point,  an act that seemed to be genuine and caring at first, started to reveal more of a selfish tone.  Something happened during our last year in Virginia.  I don't know what it was and I didn't realize it until later on.  But looking back at Dale and at us, something really fundamentally wrong started to take over.

There came a point when it became apparent that these shopping sprees and gifts were not given out of pure love and the desire to make me happy and smile.  The desire was his and it was sexual.  The clothes became short and the heels became higher.  They weren't practical for me, for my lifestyle, and they made me feel very uncomfortable.  When I tried to express that, it turned to his wants and needs.  He told me that he thought that I was beautiful and sexy and that it was for him, no one else, and that's all that should matter.

What matters most is how one feels about themselves.  Hypocrite sometimes passes my mind when I do wear something that is "sexy" today.  However, I am a much different person today than I was then.   I have found myself and I am confident.  I choose what I wear.  It is not imposed upon me and it is a reflection on who I am and how I want to present myself.  

The tip of the iceberg came in November 2010, just days before Thanksgiving.   I had been coloring my hair for years, mainly blonde.  I am a natural blonde, but not a natural beach blonde, which was my usual go-to color.  Yes, that is what Dale liked best, until he wanted me to try being a brunette.  I didn't want to.  I withheld for years, yes this was conversation and request that wouldn't end.  Finally, I decided to give in.  I went to get my hair done and I thought I would surprise him when I came home with dark hair.  The reception that I got was not what I expected, at all.  Even though he knew that it was for him and him alone, I was told that it had taken me so long to do it, that he didn't even care anymore.  It was still subconscious, but I believe that it was then that I realized that nothing that I could do would ever make him happy with me. 

Summer 2010

My son had the biggest room in our new apartment.  I loved his room.  It got all of the sunlight and it's warmth as well as any breeze that would be had on a hot summer day.  Today was one of those days.  We were all in his room.  Dale, our son, myself and our two dogs.

Dale was on the floor with Ewan, who was still a month away from his first birthday.  I loved to watch the two of them together.  I think that I enjoyed the genuine happiness that was all over Dale's face even more than the happiness and laughter that came from my son.  Dale's was more rare and to be completely honest, it made me feel lighter to know that there was someone else by my side that could help Dale, even if it was my 11 month year old son.

That summer, my sister was in the middle of her divorce.  She told us in February of that year.  But only months after, the house was already sold and she was living alone with her two boys in an apartment.  I remember looking down at my boys and just being completely happy and content and tried to imagine divorcing Dale.  I couldn't.  I knew that our marriage wasn't perfect, but on a day like that day, I couldn't help but to feel happy. I loved him more than anything, and now we had a son, whom I loved more than anything too.

Dale was my first love.  He was my first everything.  We had been together for nearly 13 years, that was almost half of my life!  I didn't know anything different, and I didn't want to.  I sat there watching him with our son and tried to imagine someone else in his place and trying to love someone else in that capacity.  I couldn't.  It was an unfathomable thought.  

Walking on Egg Shells

It was a constant state of not knowing what to say, what to do, or which way to go.  My actions were determined by the mood that he was in.  I tried to gauge that the best I could, but my true detector was my dog, who had become an E.T. type companion for Dale.  When I was unsure if Dale was in a fit or just a "regular" bad mood, I would pay close attention to Argyle's (the dog) actions.  (He was very in tune with Dale, it was both amazing and creepy at the same time.)  The climate of our home was determined by Dale and his mood.  As the years went by, his influence became stronger as did the intensity of those moods.

So in the beginning, it didn't seem out of the ordinary to step aside and let him have his feelings/moods.  It happened sporadically and wasn't so intense.  We dated for 3.5 years before moving in and lived together for 1 year before getting married.  I was already deeply vested and accustomed to this routine, as it had become, well before it became so pronounced and disturbing.  It was like gaining weight.  When you see yourself or another everyday, you don't notice a few pounds here and there.  It's not until you've put on way too much that you truly notice and it has become a real problem.  I had stepped aside so many times that I took myself out of the picture.  Dale's illness took front and center stage and everything, everything, was effected by it.  Our lives revolved around it.

Dale first attempted suicide when he was in 5th grade.  He again attempted two years before meeting me, when a long time relationship ended.  Those were the only two times that I was aware of until he cut himself in March of 2011.  However, he was suicidal.  We had many, many conversations about it.  He shared his thoughts and perspectives on it as if he were talking about the weather.  And I know he thought about it much, much more than it came up in conversation.  It was disturbing.  It frightened me.  I was determined for us to never get to the point where suicide became a real option (even though deep down I knew it always was for him) and I would do anything to stop that from happening.  I don't know when I took that silent vow, but when I did, that is when I began to walk on eggshells.  Some people fear their significant other leaving them, I never feared that he would leave me if he was unhappy.  I knew that it would hurt deeply, but that I could survive as long it was what was best for the both of us.  I feared him leaving, as in dying, not moving on in life without me.

Despite everything,  Dale was a person.  He was smart and kind, loving and generous.  I chose to see the person, not the disease.  He was like no one that I had ever met before and I absolutely adored him.

***

So when I stumbled across the article last weekend (the one that was mentioned in my past 2 posts), it surfaced pieces of my life that I would rather forget.  That article shared how emotional trauma can lead to two things... "memory and an enlarged amygdala, which houses primitive emotions such as fear, grief, envy, and shame."

My memory had become so bad, that I had begun to take Gingko-balboa when I was just in my twenties.  Dale shared his concern and thought that perhaps I needed to see a doctor.  I was a hot mess.  I had to write myself notes and reminders about everything.  Dale would become frustrated with me as well when I couldn't remember something that he told me.  Sometimes I think it was legit.  Sometimes I don't think he ever told me and I truly didn't forget.  Nevertheless, on top of everything else, I began to doubt myself.  I trusted myself less.  I trusted Dale more when it came to things that concerned what I should have remembered or known, the mentally unstable one.

As far as my primitive emotions go.... there was no reason to feel grief at that point.  I was too isolated to feel envy and (and too unaware to feel) shame.  I was fearful.  Very fearful.  Never for my own life, but for his.  And overall, until about 2008, I thought that I was happy.  Things had escualted by that point, but there was still enough good to make me think that I was happy and that Dale and our lives together were worth the stress and effort (I was very well aware of those.) that it took to make our relationship run.

***

Linda, my therapist believed that Dale was narcissitic.  When I told her that I felt like I was constantly walking on egg shells, she referred me to a book, Stop Walking on Eggshells, by Paul T. Mason and Randi Kreger.  This book introduced me to borderline personality disorder.  The signs and symptoms include... (from http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/borderline-personality-disorder/basics/symptoms/con-20023204)

• An intense fear of abandonment, even going to extreme measures to avoid real or imagined separation or rejection
• A pattern of unstable intense relationships, such as idealizing someone one moment and then suddenly believing the person doesn't care enough or is cruel
• Rapid changes in self-identity and self-image that include shifting goals and values, and seeing yourself as bad or as if you don't exist at all
• Periods of stress-related paranoia and loss of contact with reality, lasting from a few minutes to a few hours
• Impulsive and risky behavior, such as gambling, reckless driving, unsafe sex, spending sprees, binge eating or drug abuse, or sabotaging success by suddenly quitting a good job or ending a positive relationship
• Suicidal threats or behavior or self-injury, often in response to fear of separation or rejection
• Wide mood swings lasting from a few hours to a few days, which can include intense happiness, irritability, shame or anxiety
• Ongoing feelings of emptiness
• Inappropriate, intense anger, such as frequently losing your temper, being sarcastic or bitter, or having physical fights

Along side of BPD, bipolar disorder and narcissism can be found.  Most of these symptoms describe Dale to a tee.  However, I will never truly know.  Things were so complicated just before he died that I never met his psychiatrist.  I was given her name after his death, but I never reached out.  He had only seen her a handful of times and I just... couldn't.  Somedays I regret that decision, but most of the time I don't think anything that I may have learned would have made much of a difference.  It was already an open wound, I didn't want salt thrown onto it.  Perhaps I should have learned more because I have a son with Dale.  But I am hoping and praying for the best, but am preparing myself for anything.

The Doctor is In

*This post feeds off of yesterday's, so if you haven't read "The Post I Took Down," I encourage you to do so before reading this one.

I don't post or share much about Dale and my life with him (other than here), especially on Facebook.  So when I shared my post on Facebook which mentioned him, that was a big deal.  I thought about it carefully and wavered back and forth for a bit before taking the plunge and doing it.  However, it took but 20 minutes for me to retract both the the blog and Facebook posts.  What happened in those 20 minutes?  I stumbled across this blog and post... "The Little-Known Reasons Why You Need to Leave the Narcissist ASAP!"  It brought out thoughts, feelings, and trauma that I thought that I forgave and was able to move on from.  It reminded me that my reality was not what I had painted in those few sentences in my post about parenting.  That's why I had to take it down.

I met Dale in November of 1997.  From then until March of 2011 (13.5 years), he had never seen any kind of doctor or therapist to help him with his mental stability.  He told me that he had seen therapists and psychologists in the past and that he suffered from chronic depression.  I was a psych major and from what I researched, it seemed to fit and I believed him.

In 2004, we were living in Virginia.  We were starting to become more isolated.  He was starting to put his unhappiness, his mental stability into my hands.  He asked me to pay attention to his mood swings, to document them, to look for triggers and to suggest things for him to do like go exercise or walk the dogs, when I noticed a pattern coming.  I couldn't do it.  I tried, believe me.  I just failed.  Repeatedly.  And I was reminded of it repeatedly.  Dale was very high functioning.  He got out of bed every.single.day.  He was cryptic.  He knew how to hide his feelings.  I couldn't tell if I was coming or going with him.  So I went to a therapist myself, for the very first time.

I wanted help.  Not for me.  I didn't think that I needed it.  As far as I knew, I was mentally healthy.  Dale wouldn't go himself, so I thought I would go and seek advise and knowledge on how to help me.

 You know those moments, the ones where if they had gone another way, your whole life could have changed?  I have a few of those.  But not until just know, did I ever consider what I am about to share next as one of those moments.

I wanted to focus on Dale and helping him, she wanted to focus on me.  I didn't talk much and I remember her telling me that she never had such a quiet patient.  I wasn't a patient.  I was paying by the hour for in-person professional advise.  I did talk some.  I did have to give some examples and stories and background so that she could understand Dale as much as possible, so that she could help me help him.

She told me that it wasn't my job.  She told me that he needed to see a professional himself so that he could get the proper treatment that he needed.  She told me that I was his wife and it was too much to be both his wife and therapist.  I agreed with all of that, but he wouldn't go see a doctor.  We had talked about it so many times before.  A bad taste had been put into his mouth in the past and he had no desire.  So, my 25 year old self didn't know what else to do but to listen to the man that I loved and trusted.  I wasn't about to give up on him or on us and was willing to do whatever necessary.

The therapist also told me some things that put a bad taste into my mouth and I never returned, not even for more advice.  After sharing some stories about my life with Dale, she told me that he manipulated me.  She told me that he was using his illness to control me and isolate me.  I wasn't ready to hear that.  My 25 year old self didn't know how to accept that.  I was innocent and ignorant and grew up in a bubble.  It was unfathomable to me that someone that you loved and trusted, someone that you called your husband could purposefully manipulate you.

Fast forward to March of 2011.  (It took me seven years to finally accept the truth that doctor knew in one hour of speaking with me.)  Things were bad, but I didn't want to give up and call it quits, we had a son now.  I wanted to know that we had tried everything possible to save our marriage, if that was at all possible.  So, we went to a couple's therapist.  Dale did most of the talking, which turned out to be a blessing since that is the only time that we went, together.

Linda, our my therapist, called me the day after our first session and told me that she thought we should come two times a week.  That never happened.  The morning of our second session was the morning that Dale cut himself.  He was hospitalized.  He stayed for a couple of days and couldn't be released until he had a psychiatrist, not just a therapist.  He was put onto meds.

I continued to see Linda by myself from that March all the way until June of 2013.  I had found out that Dale was diagnosed by his doctor with bipolar and anxiety.  Linda truly believed that he was narcissistic as well.  If I could sum up my life with Dale in just a few words, they would be that I felt like I was always walking on egg shells.  When I told Linda that, she encouraged me to read a book. I did and it gave me a whole new perspective.

The Post I Took Down

On Saturday, I came across a blog post entitled "Dumb-Ass Stuff We Need to Stop Saying to Dads."  I agreed with it, so I shared it along with a thoughtful post of my own.  I agreed with it so much, that after careful consideration, I even shared my post on Facebook for all to see.  It wasn't more than 20 minutes, when I deeply regretted my thoughts shared and deleted both the Facebook post and my blog post.  Here are my words from that deleted post...

I have never underestimated the role of a father in a child's life, especially my own. I was a product of being raised by a loving, kind, and active father (and mother too). I have so many wonderful childhood memories filled with games, jokes, and stories that revolved around my father. He was consistently there for not only me, but my sister and brother as well throughout our entire childhood (and now into our adulthood) so I never expected anything less from the father of my own child.

Dale proved to be as loving and as active as my own father was. He was there right with me... staying up late, changing diapers, going to Dr's appointments, etc. We were equals as parents. A team.

After he died and I adjusted to parenting on my own, I realized that I could very well do this thing on my own. I could raise Ewan to be a wonderful man (even potty trained him standing!) all on my own. But... I didn't want to. As much love, support, and experiences that I could give him, there would always be a piece missing from not having a father-figure in his life.

While John's parenting approach is unique at times, lol, his influence has made a positive difference in my son's life. Ewan has changed over the past year, and for the better. His relationship with John is very different than ours and John's provides him with games, fun, perspective, and knowledge that I didn't possess to share with Ewan myself.

Never, ever underestimate the influence of a father in your child's life.

I meant every word that I wrote.  However, seven little words in paragraph two are what made me take down the entire post.  "We were equals as parents.  A team."

Yesterday I shared how so many of my memories are tainted with negativity.  I can't say that my memories parenting with Dale are tainted.  We had disagreements as we learned how to parent, but nothing out of the ordinary.  Yet, I still had to take down that post because we were not equals in our marriage.  We were not a true team.  If Dale were still here today, we would either be still married or divorced.  And to completely honest, in either scenario, I believe to my very core that those words, "We were equals as parents.  A team, " would not hold true.  That is why I had to take it down.  Even though those words were all true in context.  I couldn't share that with the word because out of context, it was quite a different story.

Nothing Sweet about this Bitter

In December, I shared a post about what I referred to as my "midlife crisis."  I self diagnosed myself after doing a Google search and I even found this handy visual to show the process or steps of a midlife crisis.

In December, I was feeling down... I was in the depressed stage.  I got tired of it, and decided to take some action to help alleviate some of that anxiety.  I have visited this blog more.  I revived the blog that I left this one for, which focuses on  living a happy and healthy life (and have been posting almost daily for nearly two months now).  I have worked out 30 out of the last 35 days and my mood had started to lift.

As all of this was going on, I started to notice bits of anger come in and out from time to time, and they were directed at Dale.  I can honestly say, that throughout everything, I never became angry.  I never felt real anger towards him.  I never hated or blamed God.  I never hated or blamed society or the stigma on mental health or on the treatment that he finally began to take part in during his last few months.  I did feel some anger towards this family.  But never Dale.  I was deeply sad for him.

Not all of my memories with Dale are happy ones.  One of the things that I had have to deal with as I think back on my life with him, is that so many of my memories are tainted with his mood swings, sharp words, and the realization that I wasn't as happy as I thought I was during those moments.  But I took ownership for the choices that I made and that empowered me rather than making me feel like a victim.  And I had no regrets.  I made, what I believed to be, the best choice at any of those given times.

So now as I am going through this "midlife crisis" I can't help but to think back on my younger years of my twenties and even into my earlier thirties and the truth of the matter is that those years were very heavy and stressful.  Dale put his health and happiness into my hands.  Not his, mine.  And I was blamed when he fell into a bad cycle.  Repeatedly, over the course of our 13+ years together.  He was exhausting.  I had very few friends.  I was isolated from my family.  Life revolved around him and his illness.  I believe that there is a big part of him that wanted it that way, and I let it happen.  And after all of this time, I can see the truth and the reality of our relationship and I am angry at him for not doing anything to help himself deal with his issues other than to dump and blame it on me.  Those actions took pieces away of my life and I have so many empty, black hole, memories as it is.

Part of me is happy to have some of this anger inside and to be able to surface it and release it.  At the same time, I feel that this anger places blame on Dale and that takes away my ownership of it.  That makes me like I had less control over my life, that I let things happen, and that is leading to the beginning of feeling some amount of regret and bitterness.  Which I don't want to feel.

These emotions are not shocking to me.  They have a right to be there.  I do hope that they will come and pass.  I do not want to get stuck in any of them and I do not want to live with anger or resentment towards Dale.

Words I Was Ready For

My son goes through the ebb and flow of missing his father.  Weeks can go by with little to no mention of him.  Then, for no rhyme or reason, he can't make it through three nights in a row without crying.  It is something that I have come accustomed to.  Even though my son was only 20 months old when Dale passed, as he has gotten older, he has gotten more aware.  He knows that other children have a father and he doesn't.  He is working through all of that and is trying to make sense and accept that.  It breaks my heart to see him upset and cry, but he never really had the chance to grieve him when he did die, because he was so young.  It seems perfectly natural to me for him to go through this process.

I also readied myself for words that would be completely logical to a child and words that I finally heard two weeks ago.  "Mommy, I want to die so that I can see daddy."  If I hadn't prepared myself for this, I would have lost my sh!t.  But it seems like a reasonable request at the age of 6, when you don't quite understand what death really means.

Now if you don't think that there was a part of me inside screaming at the top of my lungs, then you're crazy!  But, since I readied myself, I told him that I missed daddy too and how wonderful it would be to see him again.  However, I told him that if he died, then that means that I would never see him again and that would break my heart.  We talked about all of the wonderful things that we do in life that he wouldn't be able to do or see again.  He seemed to understand and had to settle for feeling daddy in his heart instead.