As if life hasn’t been stressful enough, things have gotten worse. First, I am 98% sure the girl from PoF is a bust. No communication from her in nearly 6 days now. I realize that is a relatively short amount of time, but it’s very against the level and depth we were engaging in prior. Second, my ability to hang out with my closest friend has effectively been removed.
On Friday of last week (09/26/14), she and I were “witnessed” hugging for an extended period of time, and then culminating our “intimate encounter” with a kiss. Sure, we hugged. But that is the custom, and it’s always completely platonic. When Ben walks me out, we shake hands. And when Jenée walks me out, we hug. But a miserly old man declared that he witnessed an intimate encounter far more sinister than a friendly hug. And instead of confronting the parties involved, he decided it was best to alert a third part, whom happens to own the house. I am now barred from visiting with Jenée unless Ben is there, which I find a little inane considering Ben was there the night this supposed transgression toward their marriage occurred. While we have joked and laughed about the supposed harlotry in this past, this is a serious accusation. Being called an adulterer is one thing, but having that libel acted upon is another.
This hurts me, and deeply. With what I went through in my divorce, doing that to another couple is literally the worst thing I can imagine doing right now. So being label as one such participant really rattles me to my core. It insults my honor, and smears mud in the face of my beliefs. It makes my friendship into a strenuous activity that is constantly questioned, and it literally makes me feel dirty and corrupt inside. While Ben, Jenée, and I know better, that doesn’t help the matter much. The words have been said, and the actions taken. In my eyes, the belief in being an adulterer is nearly as bad as the act of, and it makes me sick to my stomach.
This is unneeded stress on Ben and Jenée, as well as myself. Whereas she doesn’t feel like that house is her home anymore, I don’t feel welcomed there. I feel like by being there, my every action and word are going to be questioned and scrutinized. I feel like there will always been this nagging doubt in the back of peoples’ minds wondering if we really were having an affair or not. And to be treated like an adulterer, in the end, is barely better than being one. Even though I know that neither her nor I would engage in those activities, it does not belie this notion and feeling that I am now a dirty individual that tried to ruin the sanctity of the marriage between my two best friends.
All things considered, I am truly at a loss. I thought I was done and gone before, but this clinches it. Between the stressors mentions in my last post, this scenario, and Amanda’s pending birthday (which I should be over by now, but am far from), I just want to disappear. I want to leave everything behind, and move. I want to leave the country, and move to somewhere where no one knows me. I want to establish myself as the esoteric and introverted weirdo living alone and practicing his music at inane hours. I want to be left alone. I am so far beyond wanting to feel anymore, and it kills me. I had taken some serious strides to become comfortable with my thoughts and emotions; I was working towards being okay with myself. And now all of that is shot. I can feel the regression taking hold, and the walls going up. I can feel the coldness seeping back into my heart, soul, and thoughts. I can feel the welcoming arms of solidarity and introversion.
It’s oddly eerie how similar Jenée and I responded to this. She is having nightmares and restless sleep, whereas I am having nightmares and simply not sleeping because of it. I have slept a grand total of 14 hours in the last two nights. Granted, that’s only a short cry from the 16 that most people get, but 14 of that was Saturday night after having been awake for over 40 hours and before this accusation was made known. I slept 2 hours last night, and it was easily the worst sleep I have had in nearly a year (which says something considering the quality of sleep I was getting over the divorce). I doubt, highly, that I sleep much if at all tonight, even though I know I am tired. But given the dreams I recall, I don’t want to risk it any more than I have to. Even though I know it all to be untrue, my subconscious is all too keenly aware of how I feel about it all. I was demonized, ostracized, and outcast in my dreams. I was hunted, beaten, and murdered in more than one dream. I don’t want to sleep.
I know that events like this will lessen, and the stress on the three of us will diminish greatly once we move. But whereas I had hoped that to be early December, I sincerely am unsure if it will even be possible by late December. I was counting on working full time all of this time, and utilizing my disbursement from school to help fund as necessary. But I haven’t worked even the equivalent of full time at minimum wage over the last 7 weeks, and it looks like I won’t be getting a disbursement either. It is going to be a tough next couple of months, and the only real shinning light is that we will be able to move eventually, and things will get easier for everyone involved.
My biggest worry right now, is that I won’t make it to that point though. I am beyond my breaking point already. I heard the cracks, and I felt the spread. Much more, and I’ll lose it. I didn’t think it would affect me this badly, when Ben told me. But it has; oh my, how it has. To be able to feel this low, this dirty, and this dishonest over an unfounded and inane accusation… That’s scary. But it really hurts. I have been working so hard to control and compartmentalize my emotions. I think I did pretty well when I first found out. But I lost that control today. The compartments burst open, and I lost it. I broke down driving home from Jordan’s, and I just lost it. I always thought there were worse things I could be called, but it seems “adulterer” takes the cake. I could not bathe long or hard enough to wash the feeling of disgust from my skin. I could not scrub with enough voracity to remove the grim and film of disdain from my hands. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. This has hurt me nearly as deeply as being cheated on and abandoned by the person that I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.
I’m done. I’m gone. I’ve lost it.