Dreams

I had a dream about Niall last night.  And that hasn’t happened in a long, long time my friends.  Like in years.

I was walking through the beachside town, passing a little gift shop when all of a sudden, I heard my name being called out.

Kate!

Glancing back over my left shoulder, there Niall was, standing in front of quaint men’s store which does not exist in real life.  My eyes met his and I stood there on the sidewalk stoically, unable and unwilling to react whatsoever.  My pupils did not dialate nor did I break out in a huge Cheshire Cat grin.  It was as if we were frozen in time, suspended for many moments.

I took a breathe without parting my lips and finally, Niall tilted his head backwards, gesturing for me to meet him outside the store.

I don’t recall thinking anything during that time but my feet suddenly moved.  And within a moment, I was sitting down on an ipe bench facing the Pacific Ocean with Niall seated to the right of me.

I didn’t say anything.  I just sat there listening to the pounding surf below.

The familiarity was there in an instant, along with his signature cologne.  He was dressed sharp, of course- he always knew how to dress.  And he still had those baby faced good looks.

He stared at me while I looked out towards the sea.  I glanced down and saw that his hands were clasped together, with his legs far apart.  He leaned forward onto his elbows, took a deep breathe in and broke our silence.

“Kate, when you have 20 million dollars of your own money sunk into a company, there’s a lot on the line.  I wanted to buy the lot behind our house and I had investors breathing down my neck.  I’ve been so unbelievably busy…”

As I looked out at the waves, I could see his mouth moving but I could no longer hear what he said.  My own thoughts took over, becoming center stage.  And they were spinning fast. “Did he really just start this conversation off talking about his bank account?  He didn’t even ask you how you’ve been.  He didn’t even apologize for the hell he put you through…”

As he continued to speak, I stood up and walked away.  Step by step, his voice drowned out amongst the crashing waves.  I could tell he had risen and heard the sound of his shoes pivot towards me.  But he stopped.  I thought for one millisecond that I should turn around, and look at him one last time.  But I knew better.

Instead, I continued to walk forward, overcome with a sense of peace.  Away from Niall.

As the distance grew between us, he became a smoky shadowy blur.  Like a dark cloud way behind me.

I woke up suddenly to Zane grabbing the pillow off my head,  smashing his adorable face into mine whispering, “Mama, for Christmas will you buy me a Lego police station?”

Ahhh, real life.  My life.  I love it!

***

(Feel free to comment and discern what you think this dream means.)

 

 

 

 

 

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Pondering

Something has been on my mind.  And I really can’t talk about this anywhere else but here.

I was thinking about this the other day.  The fact that, even though I had an anonymous blog, I never did write about my affair with Nial.  I never processed it- well at least on paper I never did.

I ran.  And that became my therapy, spending countless hours rehashing everything Niall ever said to me.  And going over everything a million times in my head.  To the point of exhaustion and finally letting him and the memories of him go.

For roughly two years, I was ok.  But then my health declined.  And I’ve wondered now…did the stress of everything cause my auto-immune disease?  Should I have blogged about it?  Would that have helped?

I’m such an independent person.  And although I love to write, back then, I just needed the solitude as the pain was too great to even articulate.

I loved Niall.  And despite knowing in my heart that we should both stay with our spouses, it didn’t change the fact that I loved him dearly.  And losing him from my life cut deeper than I said.  The pain of losing him was brutal…as well as the aftermath of our affair.

Because I am stubborn and independent, I’m not someone to raise my hand saying, “I need help.”  I handle everything on my own.   Always have, always will.  Is that detrimental to my health?

What if that mentality backfired and triggered an auto-immune disease to develop?

I have so many thoughts along these lines. I would love to purge myself of any memories of Niall.  But I can’t.  That’s not how affairs and memories work.  Niall is still there….

Sure you move on, but the memories are like a caboose that follows you around.  Depending on the curvature of the track, sometimes you see them clearly.  Other times they are hidden from view, stuck in a dark tunnel, as you chug along the track.

It doesn’t help that I ran into Niall’s wife last week at the annual Christmas Lighting ceremony.  Vivianne had run ahead to look at a store window display since it was decorated for the holidays.  As I stood on the north side windows, less than 8 feet away, there she stood staring at the very same display- but from another angle.

My heart dropped.  And I scanned the crowd like an FBI agent, while feverishly texting my best friend to, “Fuck!  Come to X,Y,Z store NOW!”  Bless her heart, she was there in minutes, as we had gone together to the event.

Niall wasn’t there but of course, it made me think of him.  How could I not?  One second I am enjoying the holidays, the next second, that Niall caboose was suddenly the first carriage of my memory train.  Front and center…and it all came flooding back.

So the memories have been triggered by another casual run in.  It’s bound to happen where we live.  So it’s kind of expected, but still a shocker every time.  It doesn’t get any easier.  The entire thing has made me wonder if I should finally write my affair story.  And get it all out on paper.

Do I need to process something?  Could it make my condition worse?  Is it somehow causing my current condition?

I don’t feel stressed, as of today.  But then again, if the doctors knew about what I have gone through these past few years,  I wonder if they would say, “Yeah, stress can cause all sorts of symptoms.  Even yours.”  Or, “Absolutely not.  Stress wouldn’t cause this.  And could not trigger an auto-immune disease.”

I would love to hear your honest thoughts…as this is a sincere question and point of discussion going around in my head.

Video

Real Time Thoughts

 

(Author’s note: I will likely delete this post within a week)

 

When I started this blog, my intent was to tell my story from beginning to end.  I never wanted to clutter my site with blogging awards or chain mail thingies, nor wanted my blog to be a place where I vented about the affair aftermath on a daily basis.

But today is a difficult day, for many reasons.  And I am going to break my storytelling protocol to provide a rare glimpse of actual present day angst.

Today is a meaningful day.  I went to the hospital for yet another follow up, and was told that I do not have cancer.  This underlying medical issue developed right before my relationship with CEO ended.  So walking back into that hospital, sitting in the same waiting room and wearing the same white baffle knit robe conjured up many emotions today.

I sat in the very same changing room where I took a photo and sent it to him.  He quickly replied, “Oh my God, I just lost my breathe.  Are you ok?  Praying for you (and I’m not religious).  Let me know the outcome once you know, ok?”

The doctors ran multiple tests, only for the radiologist to finally say it’s benign.  But I had several hours until that occurred and I sat there thinking, “What if?  What if I am diagnosed with cancer.  Would I then reach out to CEO?  Would I then reach out and have one more conversation to put every last swirling question and emotion to bed?  Would it keep my head faced forward, for life, and keep my heart only thinking of my family?  Knowing just how precious every second with them would be?  Would getting a diagnosis of cancer be the magic pill to binding my heart completely to the ones I truly love?  To the ones who show what true love is?”

Those thoughts as well as many others concerning the special meaning of today is something I struggled with immensely.  I wanted to reach out to him and my brain was firing all it’s synapses to do so.  But it was hard, brutally hard friends.  For I have a years work of no contact under my belt and just as much pride and ego wrapped up in that accomplishment.  However, somewhere deep inside my heart, I yearned for him to know.   That I still cared—even after everything that happened–I still did and I still remembered.  And that I didn’t forget.

The significance of today was not lost on me.  I wished that I could have reached out.  To say a lot of things that have been on my mind for months.  To share that he was still in my thoughts, even after all this time.  Truly.

So I did what any woman trying to forge the next chapter in rebuilding her marriage would do….I ran home to my husband and cried about him yet again.  I shared my struggles and pain over how conflicted I was.  I shared aspects of our story, yet again, with my husband.  And then we went out for dinner and a glass of wine trying to reconnect/rebuild our marriage from this point onward.  Brutal honesty–it’s not an easy thing to do my friends.

Because even if every single fiber of my heart wanted to reach out to him–it wants, even more so, my family and children’s happiness above all else.  And it should be that way, rightfully so.  That was always the crux of my parting thoughts to him.

So all I can do is send love and friendship from afar, wishing him continued success in all of his endeavors.  And hope–so so sooo much hope for a transformative year in his marriage as well.

Another year stronger.

Another year of figuring this all out.

Fly on, my dear friend.

Fly on.