On a lighter note!

Chris brought me home two presents last night. They are presents with beating hearts, and cute faces, and soft little paws. He brought me home one kitten and one cat!!

Chris and I had talked about getting a little kitten for awhile, but it was never really a "for sure" thing. After all, I would much rather get a puppy, but we can't have dogs in our apartment. Plus, my baby lives with my parents and it breaks my heart. I simply could not share my love for another dog.

He went to a humane society and picked those two out because they were playing together and having fun. It was exciting and scary and new and fun. Their names are Dr. Dre and Quincy Jones, respectively. I found this so humorous. I did not name them! I still find it humorous!

We are changing the name of the kitten from Dr. Dre. As for Quincy, I think I might still call him Jonesy. It's cute. And Quincy is okay. But I don't really want to change his name as he has had it for quite awhile, I'm sure.

However, I am not as excited as I would be. The reason: we have four parakeets. I have never had cats before, never had parakeets before - only dogs. Well, and hamsters and fish. But never birds and cats. They are in totally different categories.

We have had the birds since earlier this year. I have become so fond of them. You can see their little personalities. I am in love with them. And last night, as Jonesy stared up at them in lust, I knew this could never work. Since I have never had these two animals, let alone together, I have no clue what to do.

I don't want to lock the birds in the bedroom all day. They are used to flying about, and sitting on their favorite chair. They own the living room. But now, with these scary predators wandering about, I don't know what to do. Any ideas? Is this even worth trying?

I have read different things to do so that the birds and cats can live peacefully. We will have to see. But I am not comfortable with it in the least!

Background #2

To my in love, naive, sweet self, I never in a million years expected Chris to be cheating on me with the worst whore there is - drugs. I knew he had flirted with her in the past. I knew he had tasted her and lusted after her, but I thought I had satisfied his needs. I thought he had grown too old and too mature for that kind of "love."

I was wrong.

We went on our honeymoon. It was a mixed bag. It was great; it was awful. It was miserable. One of the days in the middle of the 5 day stay, he found a bag of pot behind a picture on the wall. Funny, looking back on it. His paranoia of flushing it, then throwing out the baggie far away from our room. I understood it originally, but looking back on it shows a completely different reason for his fear.

We got back from our honeymoon on Saturday night. And it went downhill from there. From then, September of 06 to February of this year, he would leave at weird times. He would say he had to go to his parents for something and he would not be back for hours. I would text his brother or his dad, and they would say he hadn't been there for an hour, sometimes not even at all.

We would get in huge fights, huge blowouts over something stupid, and he would leave. Often after a physical fight. Other times, I would grab him, pull him, crying and sobbing. Hanging onto his arm, his sweatshirt as he headed down the stairs. I would sit at the top of them, tears streaming down my face, screaming for him to come back. That we shouldn't leave like this. That we should work things out. That we shouldn't have fights like this. That he promised he wouldn't leave me during a fight anymore.

I would scream his name, sobs in my throat, even after the apartment door was closed. Futile efforts. For what seemed like a futile relationship.

Some days, most days, he would text me saying he had to work late. Late meant, not 5, not 6, but 11 or even 1am.

I am not stupid. I knew he was not working. But it was so much easier to live in the easy ignorance. The ignorance that is really knowledge, but fear of having to deal with it. Of having my marriage end at the age of 22.

I would spend hours making elaborate, beautiful, delicious dinners. I would spend money from our dwindling bank account to buy the ingredients. I would wait for him until 8 or 9pm before I would eat myself. And then his portion would sit on the stove, in the cold stove, in the microwave, in the fridge, until he got home. I would eat these meals of chicken and mashed potatoes and bread by myself in front of the TV.

I would go to bed at 12am. I would go to bed at 1am, by myself. Three nights a week. Sometimes more. At first, it was hard. It was so hard. I could barely sleep. I had so much anxiety. My stomach was in knots.

But after awhile though, I got used to going to bed by myself. I got used to turning off the lights (it didn't make it any less scarier), got used to climbing into bed. I got used to tucking myself in, and used to calling him incessantly, hoping, daring him to answer. I got used to praying myself to sleep.

I often woke up at 3 in the morning to pee, and would hear a key turning in the lock. He would make his way upstairs. Always with a different excuse.

I tried so many things. Ignoring him, ignoring his apologies. Slapping him straight across the face. Hard. Breaking down into more waterfalls.

Nothing changed. I thought it would. I thought whatever he was doing, whatever he wasn't doing - if there was a remote possibility he was at work - he would see my pain and my anger and my sadness and my complete loss of anything close to respect and happiness and he would change it. He would do something to make it right.

He didn't.

Expectations

They seem to be on everyone's mind lately. It's interesting - how I was all ready to write about them, yet The Junkys Wife seems to have beat me to it. It's funny how sometimes we, and others, seem to go through almost the same things at very similar times.

It seems Chris lied to me. About money. How surprising. Heaven forbid I start to trust him. Or get expectations. That is exactly what has happened.

Things were going so well. But I had to be my normal self, checking up on him, checking on the bank records.

To start with, I asked to see his check stubs. I want to see just how much he is bringing in so we can start to pay off his long, monstrous credit card debts. Yet, debt with an S. I'm sure you all know what I mean.

He said he doesn't know where it is. He said it is in his car somewhere, but he's not sure where. He has to find it, however, because his PO needs to see it tomorrow. Well, he didn't find it. I asked if he took any money out of his last check instead of simply depositing the whole thing. No, he stated, he put the entire thing in.

Perhaps some would call it spying. Some would call it snooping. I call it being smart. Being wise after being screwed over.

He took money out of his last check and even more out of the check before that. I was so angry. I felt so betrayed. My sister has just been over and we had just been talking about how good he was doing, and how I needed to give him little things so he could continue to show me that he was being trustworthy. And then that.

The fight was horrible. He said sorry, but that really meant nothing. It doesn't take back the fact that he took money without even discussing it, and the worst part is he lied right to my face. I didn't even have one little clue, after all these months of lies, that he was lying right to me.

The apology meant nothing. It usually doesn't. I was hurt. I left. I went to my friend's.

To get to my point, I started to ponder my expectations. Are they too high? Am I setting myself up, and everyone around me, to fail? I realized that Chris isn't the only one that I have expectations for. I put them on everyone.

It's inevitable that at some point someone will let me down. At some point, Chris will let me down.

But then how do I not have expectations at all? It's a tricky place. It's so hard, impossible I think!, not to have expectations. At some point, one will come up. Without expectations, wouldn't it be to simply not care?

And shouldn't I have expectations for my recovering crack addict? Without them, he cannot strive to get what we do not have. Without the expectations, he cannot possibly earn my trust. Shouldn't he have expectations put on him?

I think I need to have them for him so that I know that he will one day live up to them. And I really don't think that being honest about money or checks or any of that is that hard of an expectation to live up to.

Of course, I feel like I could say much more on this, but I am dreadfully tired. I don't really know what the answer is. I don't know how to not have expectations, and I don't know how to not be saddened when Chris does not live up to them. I'm stuck.

Interlude #2 (The affair)

After he proposed in December, things were going great. We were excited and anticipant (word?) of the upcoming wedding date we had set. Our minds, or at least mine, was in a flurry over plans and things to be done.

It seemed to go so slow. Little did I know that in March, Chris started doing crack cocaine. And at the end of March, he was arrested with his first (and only) DUI. Needless to say, while this angered and confused me, I stayed with him. And looking back on this, I am sure the majority of it was because I was so freakin' excited over getting married. I didn't stop to think about the future, the real future.

I did not know he was doing drugs during this time. He was acting the same as he had before he started and things were still going well.

During this time, I started a relationship with M. We had been best friends for 3 years and embarked, without planning to, into a romantic relationship. I could not stop it. I did not want to stop it. I was in love with M. There was no one else I had connected this deep with.

I cannot explain the passion I felt, or the passion we had towards each other. But because of my parents and their strict religious viewpoints, and because of my deep founded respect (and co-dependence) for them, I told M that I was going to marry Chris.

Don't get me wrong. I loved Chris. I loved him so much. But he did not make me as happy as M did. M could not promise me forever. And even if there was that promise, I don't know if I could have been able to live that way. To possibly lose my family.

So now, looking back, I am filled with even more questions. Did I make the wrong decision? My husband was addicted to crack cocaine even then. If I had known that, would I have dropped him all together?

There are days though, more often than not, that I am very happy that I chose Chris. That I am forging ahead with him as my life partner. We have great times. We have horrible times. But in the end, I am happy I chose him.

And after the conversation with M yesterday, I learned that had I chosen differently, I would have chosen wrong. Chris is mine. I am his.

This affair is one of my saddest and happiest moments. Great memories, but a guilt I hold looking back at our engagement. M and I broke it off the day I got married. Our future was finalized then. M called when I got back from the honeymoon, but things were not the same.

And since then, we have talked probably a total of two or three times. For birthdays mostly.

I miss M. And it's hard to let go of the past. Of good memories and bad ones. But I have to. I am growing happier and more content each day.

I am rambling. I will start over.

Clinging to the past

I talked to that other lover tonight. M will be the initial I shall use. M updated me on life, on family, on relationships. And I found out M is completely and entirely over me, even with some regrets concerning me.

This made me realize so much how I have been clinging to the past. How I have been wishing that I had chosen M, how I have been living in sadness in regards to the life I chose with Chris. M told me that there are never thoughts about it anymore and that I made the best decision. For M, at least.

That broke my heart. I don't want to be the only one wondering. But I realized that, like I said, I have been clinging to the past. It's time to let go. M does not want me. And why should that be bad? I should be happy that M has someone who brings happiness.

I am happy sometimes. And I can't go back. I can't get M back. And even if I could, M does not want me. I need to move on. I need to let go. I need to let go of Chris' crack addiction. I need to be happy.

And I can't start being happy until I let go.