Friday afternoon, as I was driving home from work, I received the following text from him:
I’m getting my own dinner so you can have dinner with [our daughter].
So that was nice to hear.
But then, I always start to wonder… how much time do I have? When will he be home? Will it be an hour? Three hours? And then what?
I tried to stop my thinking and just be glad I had a little time without him.
I got home and his truck wasn’t in the driveway. No surprise. If he had gone out, his truck wouldn’t be there.
The air smelled like someone was having a cook-out. I wondered if maybe he was making his own dinner at his “fort.” But, then again, it could be a neighbor somewhere having a cook-out.
I went in and made dinner.
After awhile, I checked my phone and there was a text message from him, asking if I could put away the chickens. The text was from about 45 minutes earlier, about sundown. (The chickens go back to their houses all by themselves when the sun goes down, but someone has to close the doors so nothing gets them in the night.)
I texted back, yes, I would put away the chickens.
I went outside to close the doors on the chicken houses, but the doors were already closed.
By then, I was pretty sure he was out at the fort, but he didn’t actually tell me that.
Again with the wondering thing… when would he come home and the evening be interrupted?
Long story short … he spent the night out there. Of course, he never did tell me that was what he was doing.
I still slept in the living room.
For one thing, I didn’t know if he might come home at some point and I didn’t want to be in the bed.
For another, I think it might be traumatic to sleep in the bed again, even without him here. One week-end afternoon, after he did what he did (post), when he wasn’t here, I lay down in the bed to rest for a few minutes. But I couldn’t be there. I had to get out of the bed. I couldn’t be where it had happened.
So I slept in the living room Friday night as usual. I’m pretty comfortable there now. The sofa cushion is still kind of hard, but it doesn’t feel so narrow anymore and I sleep pretty well in there.
Saturday morning, when I woke up, I felt so very, very angry. Maybe this is a good thing. I think I have a lot of repressed anger, but since working with the counselor, I am starting to recognize my anger instead of stuffing it. Then I can deal with it in a healthy way rather than pretending that everything is okay.
So I felt this incredible anger. Anger at his manipulation. Anger at his deceit. Anger at being half-lied to, at being treated this way. It took me awhile to calm down, like hours, but I’m still glad that I was actually able to feel it and see it for what it was.
It strengthened my resolve to work harder at leaving so I don’t have to be treated like this anymore.
He finally came home on Saturday morning around 11:00 am. Thankfully he left again a couple hours later, so I didn’t have to be around him much.