I might need to change my blog title, because J and I are seriously talking about moving across the state. In my opinion, though, “Sophie in Spokane” doesn’t sound as nice as “Sophie in Seattle.” It does still have alliteration, though, so I guess it’ll do. Most likely, the big move won’t happen for a few years. We own a condo, and we’re profoundly underwater. My hope is that the market will pick up and that our home value will rise enough for us to break even.
Why do we want to move? Two reasons: family and finances. (More alliteration!)
The only family members we have in the Seattle area are…difficult. I mentioned J’s “cousin-in-law” in a previous post – I think I mentioned that she unfriended me on Facebook and has ignored all my overtures of friendship. And then there’s J’s aunt who is a piece of work. She is by far the most judgmental and grudge-holding woman I’ve ever met. The men in the family are all right, but I wish they’d take a stand and get their women in line. (…that might be sexist of me… My feminist friends would disown me if they knew… Which is why this is a secret blog. If someone I knew read this, then I probably wouldn’t be nearly this authentic about the controversial things.) Anyway, so since the dynamic of family we do have here is so strained, it would probably be more healthy to pursue the family that does want us around. Thus, the move to Spokane.
In our little suburb of Seattle, we bought our townhouse for $203,000. It’s now worth half of that, but that’s beside the point. In Spokane, we could buy a NICE house for that. …and, even better, it looks like J would be able to keep his Seattle pay rate and work from home in Spokane. We’d live like kings….or more accurately, we’d live extremely comfortably. We might even be able to afford to have kids. (Assuming, of course, we could get the sex drama figured out.)
…So… That’s the hope anyway. …now we just need to be able to sell our townhouse…
J and I talked about she-who-must-not-be-named today. I asked him why it was so easy for him to talk to her… How he could so easily share the real parts of him that he is so reluctant to reveal to me and to other people in his life. Why was she different, I wanted to know. He’s told me multiple times that it’s not just me. “I have a hard time being authentic with everyone, Sophie, not just you.” Well, why was it different with her? How could he let it happen? And how can I know that it won’t happen again? In answer, he said that it’s easier to be authentic through the written word. Something about not being face-to-face with someone makes it easier for him to feel safe, so he feels freer to be authentic. As to my other questions, he didn’t have a good answer.
I feel like something is irreparably broken in us now. It’s not bad like it was right after her, but I also know that things will never be how they used to be. The broken part – the part that I worry will always be with us – is that I can’t look up to him with the same doe-eyed trust. Regardless of the forgiveness I have given him (and must continue to grant him on a daily basis), the betrayal happened. It will always be there between us. I will never be the same, and I expect that he’ll never be the same person to me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at him like he’s my hero, my protector, my champion, the one upon whom I can depend when everyone else fails… Not anymore. Back before the betrayal, it wasn’t a great marriage relationship, but regardless of what the world threw at us, we had each other. Now? Now I feel like I have to face the world alone. J may be there near me, but I can’t rely on him the same way as before. Now I have to learn to be my own hero. I wonder if that broken part can be healed. I think maybe not. …kind of like when someone you love dies… Life is never the same again, but you learn to live with a new normal. Maybe I just have to mourn the loss of that blind adoration and trust, and learn how to live in our new, fractured normal.
It feels a lot like when dad abandoned mom and me. I became a different person at that moment. For better or for worse, I’ll never be the same. Neither will he. I guess that’s how it is with J and me, too.