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Pain is a Teacher and I am Learning From It

Today is my 2nd Marriage/Wedding/Whatever Anniversary.


Most people on their anniversary is looking forward to a day of love. Pampering. Joy.


I am deciding on whether or not to go visit my husband in jail for the first time since he got arrested. Today is his first chance to have any kind of visitation at all and of COURSE it just so happens to be today.


The day that 2 years ago, we vowed our lives and our love for each other. The day after my Dad died.


He is allowed one 15 minute in-person visitation per week. This week it is on a Wednesday at 8pm and next week it is on a Saturday at 8am.


My day today consisted of waking up at 1pm and staring at my ceiling trying to invoke the force inside of me to make my life be anything but reality.


I suppose that is quite poignant, isn't it.


The only person in the world who actually possesses the "force" to change my life is, in fact, me. But I don't want to think about or accept that at this moment. I'll shove that down to unpack later.


I took a shower. Picked out what clothes I thought would not only pass inspection from the guards and follows all the guidelines but would also look pretty. Yes, I wanted to look pretty for my husband on our anniversary.


After my shower I tried on a couple of different outfits before deciding on a sleeveless blue Vera Wang dress that I got from Kohl's years ago but I didn't think G had seen it on me.


I made sure to also set aside a backup plain black dress, just in case they turned me away at the jail. I didn't want to make the hour long trip only to be rejected because of my clothing.


I also tried several different shrugs, these thin little jacket things that I could wear over the dress to make sure more of my skin would be covered.


Can't tempt the inmates with my bare shoulders and arms, apparently.


I was ready. Or at least I thought I was ready but the mind is a fickle thing.

It's kind of a bitch, if you ask me.


The onslaught of emotions that washed over me was debilitating.


This would be the first time I had seen G since July 12. He cheated on me on July 14th with my former best friend. He is an addict. His addiction led him to where he is now, and will be, for the next who knows how many years. Did I want to see him behind glass? In a black and white jumper? After he wasn't loyal and had betrayed me God knows how many times....Why do I still feel loyal to him? This love, this sense of responsibility to be a "good wife", why does it feel so wrong and so right at the same time?


I ended up not going. The dresses are still hanging by the door.


Maybe I'll be ready next Saturday. Maybe I'll never be ready - who is ready to see their husband in a black and white prison jumpsuit behind a glass partition? Never able to touch, only able to talk on the phone.


I miss him so much, but I also missed him when he wasn't in prison - when his addiction had ripped us apart and it was like he was 1000 miles away when he was standing in front of me.


How the hell am I supposed to prepare to be ready?


Maybe next time. Maybe.

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