Not All Those Who Ramble are Lost (original) (raw)

After I realized there was no point in trying to stay in such a shitty marriage, I called it quits and (emotionally) started to mourn and move on.

Cue "Andrew"-- a friend of a friend that I've known for almost as long as I'd been with Chad. I remember with vivid details every single interaction with this man over the last four years from the first day he walked into the store and the bashful smile I caught when I tried to meet his eyes through the look of delighted confusion on his face the second time he came into the store and I remembered him by name to the shock on his face when I visited his home and the cat who "doesn't like anybody" asked to be picked up and cuddled me for ten minutes.

Now then, even though I'd declared the marriage over, I was still stuck living with Chad for a few months while I hoarded money to get on my own two feet. It was slow going. But even while we were married, we'd had what I believed was an Open Relationship. But, it turns out, that since he hadn't successfully found another partner, he "called it off"... after I'd already made arrangements with "Andrew" (who knew about the open relationship and was comfortable with the idea).

Fast forward a few weeks, Chad hacked my Facebook and told most of our IRL friends group that I've "cheated".

Now, here's the thing; I didn't tell him any details of where I was going that day or what I'd be doing, but he knew who I'd be with and when I planned to return. He knew I was safe, which was the arrangement we agreed on when we discussed opening the relationship.

The night before the date, I'd asked him to scoop litter boxes and take out the garbage while I was gone.

Instead, he sat at home masturbating to the thought of "Andrew" and I in bed together.

And yet, when he found out that's what had happened, he was so "repulsed" and "disgusted" and "ashamed of [me]" that he called everyone that had been in our wedding party bemoaning my "cheating".

And now, he uses this "cheating" and my reputation among those friends as points of control (unsuccessfully, since I see it for what it is). It was a discussion about this "cheating" that incited his fit of rage, the car chase, etc.

Because I followed through on what I said, and we'd agreed, we were going to do. Because I hadn't been able to get enough of my money away from him to file divorce papers, or register a vehicle in my name, or any of the other steps to escape that money require.

So now I'm left with "Andrew" on my mind. We can't date in the conventional sense; even though we share a friend group (which, incidentally, Chad is not and has never been a part of, but also tried to tell his twisted version of events via online means) there's a pretty significant distance. And until recently, transportation was difficult for me.

Just for the hell of it, since I can't sleep, I dug out my tarot deck and shuffled with my mind on "Andrew".

First card:
8 Cups/Hearts, reversed
Hmm.
Upright, the 8 of Cups represents Sacrifice and enduring more than you want to. Reversing a card usually alters/reverses the meaning.

So I went to Facebook hoping for cat videos to still my mind so I can be up for work in four hours, and instead came upon a meme.
"Pay attention to your gut feelings. No matter how good something looks, if it doesn't feel right, walk away."

Well, "Andrew" looks damn good. (Straight out of Rohan kind of good.) And it feels good. Exciting and cheerful and full of promise and none of the "I have to take care of him" vibes I had the whole time I've known Chad.

But hope, regardless of whether or not it has feathers, is a frightening thing. So fragile, so hard to hold onto, and so easy to use as a distraction.

The full reading I pulled for myself (I know, I know!) shows me on the right path, with an outcome of a reversed 6 of Cups/Hearts, "future" "moving on" "letting go of the past".

Do I dare hope?

Do I get to sleep?

So there's what's in my buzzing brain at ten until three in the morning on a work night, rattling around beneath the tinnitus and the timer on the lizard tank clicking through the wall behind my bed. Maybe I'm a cheater in some peoples' minds. I'm not the only one who broke our vows. I don't regret leaving him at all.

I just regret that I can't fall asleep where everything feels right, and that I spent four years convinced I can't trust my own gut and brain when they were screaming in whispers to just cut my losses and run.