Break Week: 4, Jantelagen
I've been debating ripping out the last few pages of this diary. The entries starting from when Ethan pushed me. Those are not moments I'm really going to want to read over and re-live. But, obviously, I've done just that. Many times.
One thing I've noticed about those entries, is that I didn't seem to express a lot of emotion. I didn't go into how insecure I felt when Gina insulted me, and Ethan didn't come to my defense. I didn't write that I wondered if Ethan agreed with Gina, and that's why he didn't say anything.
I didn't write how Hoyt made me feel like a girl in high school with our stolen kisses and the thought that we just "get" each other. I didn't write about the thrill each of his touches brought. Or, the guilt that came later. I didn't write that I partly felt my actions were justified because Ethan pushed me that one time.
I started to show some emotion when Ethan left. But, never did I go into detail about feeling gutted. About the suicidal thoughts. I tried to remove myself from my grief. From everything.
I'm changing a little. Trying to be more expressive. My therapist said that might be good for me. Wait. Let me rephrase that. The couple's therapist that ETHAN AND I have been seeing TOGETHER has said that being a little more expressive might be good for me.
Yes, you--or in this case, I--read that right. Ethan and I are working things out. It is both the greatest and most horrible thing ever. Great because we're trying to work it out, to save our marriage. And horrible because therapy uncovers some pretty nasty wounds. Even some you didn't realize you had. But, I love Ethan. He and our marriage our worth this.
Okay, so quickly, let me bring myself up to date. A week after his date, he asked if he could come by to talk. Of course he could! I wanted to see him so badly.
One of the first things we did when he came over was lie to each other. We both said how good the other looked. That was bull shit. I had gained a bunch of weight, my eyes were red and swollen from crying, and I couldn't remember the last time I had washed my hair.
Ethan didn't look much better. Dark circles under his eyes, a bit of a scruff beard that didn't suit him, and he was a bit pale.
He did most of the talking. I listened in somewhat stunned silence as he told me that his date had been a disaster. He called her Heather more than once. She told stories that didn't interest him; and all his stories featured me. They didn't have the rhythm that we had had. The silences were awkward. And they would try to fill the silences at the same time. Both stopping four words in to say, "No, you go."
What shocked me the most is that he said he felt like he was doing something wrong, like he cheated on me. He felt paranoid, like someone would catch him out with this other woman.
After telling me about his train wreck of a date, he told me something I needed to hear. More than hearing I'm beautiful. He said, "Heather, I love you, and want to try to work it out."
As silly and as clichéd as it sounds, those words were music to my ears. I felt like I was thrown a life line after falling into shark infested waters. I told him I wanted that more than anything; that I would do whatever it took to save our marriage. He could read every email, text, or Facebook message that I sent or received. I would only take phone calls on speaker phone while he was in the room. I even told him that he could read my diary whenever he wanted.
He said he appreciated all of that, but what he really wanted was to seek counseling, together. I remember, I asked if I could hug him. "Of course," was the reply. Again, something I needed to hear. The hug wasn't awkward. It felt right. I told him I would go see a therapist with him. And we'd go as many times as he needed. As we needed.
We've been in counseling for three weeks now. Two sessions a week. There are times when it's a nightmare, reliving the time with Hoyt, multiple times, and seeing the pain in Ethan's eyes each time. Seeing his eyes get wet, and his eyes water. Hating myself for causing him that reaction.
In therapy, as well as on my own, I've found humility. Alone, I may not be anything special, but with Ethan, I am. What we had, what we're working towards again, was something special.
Ethan and I are both flawed individuals, but when you put us together, we're perfect. And it's those imperfections that make us perfect.
He's moved back in to our home. We're sharing a bed, and yes we've had sex. Actually, and God I know this sounds corny, it wasn't sex. We were making love. So tender and gentle with each other. I actually cried when we finished. He held me, and I cried in his arms. I was overjoyed. I wish I could put it into words. It was like a precious heirloom being returned to you after you thought it was gone forever.
We're not back the way we were. Not completely, anyway. But we're working on it. And after what I've done, that's really all I can ask for at this point.
We're working on our marriage together. We can't do it individually. We can only fix our marriage by doing it together. I'm so grateful that Ethan is willing to give it a try.
I think I will keep the last few diary entries. Those events I described are the reason I'm where I'm at today. And, I hope in the future--the near future--I will look back at how far we've come.