Radio Heartbreak Squad

Let me introduce you to the Radio Heartbreak Squad. They're the folks behind the evil conspiracy that says when you're having a rough go of it, the exact wrong song will come on at exactly the wrong time. If you're plugging along, blissfully ignorant, it brings up all sorts of feelings you don't want to think about. If you're already upset, it just leads you further into despair.

Ironically, I was introduced to the squad by my husband, when we were first "dating." And by "dating," I mean "saying sappy things to each other via email and getting to know each other over the phone" during the 4 months between the time we met online and the time I moved here. He was driving to meet some friends, and thinking of how nice it would have been had I been in the car with him. A song came on, I can't remember which one he said it was, and it just made him depressed that I was so far away.

Anyhoo...

Last night, I brought up how he told me a few weeks ago, that the night he told me he was attracted to his coworker, that she had been the one to throw herself at him. I told him how I'd found a message board she posts on where she posted that it had been him who tried to kiss her. And that I needed to know that while we were trying to figure out where this is going, that I needed to know that we were being completely honest with each other. I needed to know I could trust him to not engage in any infidelity.

He got annoyed, told me that it's not up to him to say, that I either trust him or I don't. I asked for a promise. He he could promise, but didn't feel like I would believe him anyway, so what good was it?

He never came to bed last night. First time in years. In my heart, I know he needs time to sort his stuff out too, that we both need time to figure things out - but who says rational thought absolutely has to make us feel better about something? I woke up about an hour before my alarm was to go off, and he was still on the couch. I woke him up and made him go to bed. I couldn't fall back asleep due to the pit of anxiety in my stomach, so I got up. The thought of going in to work made me throw up (or rather, dry heave, since there was nothing in there to get rid of) so I called in sick. I slept fitfully for a few more hours, then got up.

Thinking that I wouldn't think about things if I was being productive, I started to clean the kitchen. Once again, the pit of anxiety in my stomach gave me pause. I watched some TV, then decided to try again. I like to listen to music while I'm cleaning, so I turned on the TV and switched it to one of the Music Choice stations. The song that was on kicked me in the gut.

I Can't Make You Love Me.

I cried for a while, loaded the dishwasher, then went to wake him up - he'd been in bed for 8 hours since I'd gotten him up off the couch. He rubbed my arm, then saw that I'd been crying. He asked what was wrong, and I told him that the Radio Heartbreak Squad had gotten me. I don't know what I was expecting, maybe some sympathy from my best friend. Instead, he withdrew his arm, rolled over and said nothing. I left the room.

He's since gotten up and has gone from laying in bed to laying on the couch. Hasn't said a word to me. And here I sit, crying on and off, pit of anxiety in my stomach seething as ever. I've been awake on and off since 7AM. Eight and a half hours later, having eaten nothing, normally I'd have come close to passing out from lightheadedness. Yet the thought of food just turns my stomach even more.

"They" say it gets worse before it gets better. I love my husband. I want to make our marriage work. I just don't know how much of this I can take along the way. I don't want to give up the fight. I just hope I have enough fight left in me.