Facades and Such

So I just got back today from a trip to London with my oldest son in order to celebrate his transition from primary school to high school. The trip was great, and we made some beautiful memories. We even had a great conversation on the train ride home with this really nice Dutch family. Then reality hit. Oh yeah, I am returning back to this. I spent the better half of the evening balling my eyes out and actually wailing from the pain that's in my heart. This pain has unfortunately built a home there for many years now, as you will see below. This is me. This is the Jess who has been attempting to save face and be the savior for everyone else all of this time while losing herself to the point of breaking and never really felt safe or comfortable talking about it because she has always been afraid that she is either too much or not enough, and she really maybe just shouldn't exist or whatever....I know this is a majorly big no-no grammatically incorrect run-on sentence, and I did that on purpose. But you get the point. (I mean you obviously get the point that grammar and vocabulary are not my strong points in the English language, but yeah.) 

So the facade. That's been my life. And I know I am not supposed to share because it's supposed to be rainbows and sunshine, roses and sprinkles all shoved up your ass so you can't do anything but pretend all is well because God forbid we reveal anything about out true selves on social media or in public in general. Welp, yeah. I am done pretending. Like I said, I balled my eyes out tonight. This wouldn't be the first time, and I hate to admit that it happens quite often actually. I hate feeling stuck and not being able to really know what is to come. I hate that I don't like myself in ways because I expect the worst to happen because that's what always happens, and I probably deserve it because who the fuck am I to even belong or exist? And no, I would not like any w(h)ine with the cheese because I gave up alcohol last September and have never looked back. Whew. What am I even trying to say here? Should I admit that I am afraid of further abandonment and rejection? I feel so so very alone. I have spent pretty much all of my life rescuing others (or trying to) while I have forgotten to rescue myself. Now that I have shifted gears and have made the decision to (try to) do so, the fear has come gushing in like a flood. I have been condemned by so many, including my deceased grandmother who would've celebrated her 93rd birthday today. (Breathe, Jess, breathe). 

I have been in a marriage for what would have been 14 years on paper this fall (according to the city hall, at least). However, this marriage has been over for a very long time, for at least 3.5 years, but honestly probably much longer. I have stayed for the kids. I have stayed because some of my family has told me I am a bad mother if I would get a divorce because I would ruin my kids. I was told that I would be destroying them, their father, the family, etc. I was told that I would be sinning greatly in the eyes of God. I could go on. I have been crippled with fear and shame and guilt for years because of who I am, who I have become, who I am not, and what I can or cannot give to people I care deeply about. In all of this, I have truly lost myself, or so it feels. I have spent the better part of this past year doing some really intense inner healing work, and it's been really powerful. I am grateful for that. However, this journey has been beyond lonely, and I have honestly felt ashamed and guilty to ever ask for love, support, help, or even a listening ear. Why? Because I do the saving. I am the one who makes sure everyone is situated and okay and content and happy and feeling loved and accepted and....I am exhausted. I am truly exhausted, and I am tired of living this lie and pretending that all is okay. It is not. I am not okay. 

Admitting round number two of the failure of a marriage has been a huge blow to my ego and has caused me to look really honestly and openly at myself, but I have gone too far to say that I am (solely) the problem. If I didn't exist or had I made other life decisions or had I started my healing journey sooner or...or..or...what if? But that's just not what was or what is. I know that reading this post is probably feeling like experiencing fingernails on a chalkboard. I totally get it because that's how it feels to write it. I am stalling, and I have been for a very long time. I don't know what to do, where to begin, and I am feeling beyond overwhelmed. I don't want to hurt my kids or their dad. But the question is how far do I need to lose myself in order to try and save them? When do I just get to be me and live my truth? When do I get to be my most authentic self? Why do I just want to run? I have been running for my entire life, and I am tired of running. I don't want to put walls up anymore, but I am so scared to face this all alone. I am afraid that I have already failed my children and will continue to do so. Why can't I just suck it up and pretend at least until the youngest is out of the house? I just can't. 

So, this is my probably pathetic, perhaps in your opinion attention-seeking, pity party cry for help. I need support. I have been trying to do this all on my own for many years knowing that I would probably be navigating this all as a party of one because the families are against it, the Christians are against it, God is against it, etc. But I could really just use a friend right now. I am scared for how this will all turn out. When I went through this the first time around, I lost everything. And when I say I lost everything, I mean it. I lost everything and had to start over from nothing. I had less than a handful of people to support me through it then, and that's my fear this time around as well. And I am scared about what that will mean for my kids. I am scared to lose everything again, including them. But I have to stop settling for losing me. Do you understand my dilemma?