She’s Baaaaack!

A few weeks ago, I told you guys about her pinning spree and her “spy” friend, Hannah. I struggled to make sense of Nancy’s online behaviors–good luck–and then tried to connect whether or not Hannah’s “visit” during my yoga shift was, in fact,  a setup.

I think I have the answer now.

Courtesy: Wikipedia

Courtesy: Wikipedia

While I typically attend Sunday morning yoga at a different studio location, I chose to practice at my home studio. This is the same studio where Nancy and I met, even though it has been 7 months and she officially terminated her contract back in May. At that time, she claimed she was pregnant and ceased to return to the studio. As you may recall, I returned because of my spine and hip flexor injury because not all studios turn up the heat, which, according to my two specialists, helps with my range of motion.

Quietly, I have been working there–as a favor to my amazing manager and GM, who want to offer me an advanced position after a few months–and never let on that I was back. As you know, I have remained off social media and there would be little to no way Nancy would know I was back.

I didn’t count on Hannah.

Since she showed up last week, I was unsure if Nancy’s memories pins were connected to Hannah’s rare appearance for a Thursday evening class. Today, I believe I got my answer and Nancy was proven to be a liar.

Walking into the yoga studio, which is currently running a 20 in 30 day challenge for all participating members, I saw Nancy for the first time in 7 months. This 20 in 30 challenge requires yogis to complete twenty classes through the month of November. Seems Nancy signed up for an unlimited package to participate in the challenge, and it is my belief, that she completed the transaction at the yoga studio about 5 minutes from mine–you know, the one Hannah told me she worked at.

Coincidence? No.

I walked in to see Nancy huddled with Hannah–surprise!–and another woman. I was stunned! I walked around dazed, briefly talking to my manager and the GM of the franchise. I could not believe it. Nancy stood talking to her cronies as though nothing happened, but I could see the wheels turning in her head that I was there. I was unable to retrieve a yoga mat because she was blocking the shelving, so I had to avoid her and go to another section of the studio.

I felt watched by her and Hannah–very high school!–as I looked for a place to collect my surprise. (Ya know, Wendy often asked me, “If Nancy knew where you were, about how long do you think it would take for her to show up?” I guess we know: exactly 2 weeks.)

Granted, I wasn’t supposed to take class at the home studio, as I said earlier…but she knows I work there, thanks to Hannah; in fact, I’m wondering if Hannah can chart my visits. I am skeptical of this because I can only see Hannah’s activity based on her visits to my studio, not hers 5 minutes away. Does that make sense?

Seeing Nancy and Hannah together solves the puzzle for me, as prior to this expose, neither were aware of the fact that I knew they were friends. The jig is up. (exposure #1)

While I was occupying myself putting my clothes in a cubby nearby, Hannah and Nancy collect theirs…ironically, a few feet away. I overhear them making forced and nervous conversation so as to avoid noticing me. Fucking guilty minds, don’t you think? So high school.

I overheard Hannah telling Nancy to meet her for coffee around 2:00p.m. and other exciting things she should do that day or others. Nancy said she’d call DAVE to let him know, etc. It seemed like she made me overhear his name.

And, by the way, she’s not physically pregnant. By her alleged pins back in May, she’d now be about 5-6 months pregnant, and while she certainly put on weight, she does not have a pregnant belly. (exposure #2)

Nancy treated me–and I know I’m just her ex, who frankly still loves her in my own twisted way–like she did before: seemingly anxious and avoidant–as though I was going to hurt her. Some things never change, do they? She’s the one who wanted to remain civil, and yet she’s avoiding me like the plague. I guess we’re right back to where we were 7 months ago.

I could see them both treating me like I was an enemy of some sort, so I decided to be the bigger person. I put my hand on Nancy’s arm, as she left, and said hello. I asked how she has been. She gave me a fake smile and asked me how I was then proceeded to leave with Hannah.

Later, I decided not to take class because I was upset about this whole ordeal so I left through the back entrance of the studio to my car, which was 10 feet from her car. I saw Nancy and Hannah hugging goodbye, but then they walked together to Nancy’s car. By then, I was in my car waiting to pull out of the parking lot. They both passed by the back of my truck looking at it and then I left.

I think Nancy knew that I didn’t stick around to take class. I simply left.

Why come back to the yoga studio where you ex is? Again. I ask this question. I could ask it of myself, but then again, haven’t I given up enough of myself? Short of entering the witness protection program, I disappeared–or as Wendy describes it, “fell off the face of the earth.”

Some wounds don’t heal.



Long Time, No Post

I’m sorry for my absence. Thanks to those who have reached out.

In the last few weeks, or however long it has been, I discovered that Nancy is very likely recovering from a codependent marriage and narcissistic abuse. Apparently, Dave is not only bipolar but has narcissistic tendencies; all of this fits with what she told me in the past, etc. All of this is seen on her social media account. She’s apparently been chronicling her daily affirmations about her self worth for months. My colleague alerted me to this because he follows her.

This month is 1 year since our first date and other memories. Working with Wendy, I managed to allow myself to commemorate the special dates. To be happy despite the way things are now.

I posted a poem about memories on Pinterest, simply saying beneath it how some memories should never be forgotten (e.g. first dates, holding hands, walks–all the things we did). I also wrote how this month will always be special in my sentimental heart. I’m not sure if she saw this or not. In one sense, it would be generic to a broader audience, yet specific to her. Wendy said that although it’s veiled, if it’s for her, that’s okay–I have a right to express my memories and feelings on my account. Mind you, I’ve been silent for 6 months now with no contact. I’ve been respectful and virtually silent and missing in action, as you all know on here as well. I faded into the background, happily and sadly at the same time.

Now, I don’t know if it is related or not, but when I checked her Pinterest for any response, 5 days later, she pinned images on her Memories board (mind you, she hasn’t populated any pins in 5 months; suddenly, it was booming). These were childhood memories, but perhaps there is some symbolism, as she cannot use words to express anything (Dave is likely watching). She pinned a house, among other images. This may/may not be significant, as one of the memories I did not list in my memories pin commemorating our time together. It was, however, one of the most significant times in our relationship this month. Three other pins seem to stand out, and forgive me for seeming “crazy” by thinking they are anything at all, but products called “sweet secrets” and Loving You Barbie (apparently, she was a fan). Nancy is well aware that I’ve made a career out of studying semiotics and visual media–I read/interpret how images make meaning. Maybe it’s a huge mindfuck. Don’t know.

3 hours after she pinned this (alleged) response, one of her close friends showed up at the yoga studio in which I work. This friend is unaware of the fact that I know who she is. Perhaps it was all a big coincidence? This friend looked as though she knew me, though none of her friends have any idea what I look like. Maybe with a description–and this friend confirmed my name by asking it–she figured it out. Again, maybe it’s all a coincidence…maybe not. Her friend was quite chatty, introduced herself, and seemed to keep engaging me in talk. By the way, both Nancy and her friend are behaviorists. This pal has also not been to the studio in quite some time and hardly ever takes a yoga class on Thursdays. I happen to work on Thursdays, as this buddy now has access to all of my schedules because she told me that she too works at the same franchise yoga studio down the street. Great.

A few days later, Nancy updated her FB picture to reflect her and Dave at some wedding. She hasn’t changed her picture in 2 months, no visual change to commemorate her own wedding anniversary. She was radio silent.

Since I’ve posted pins, perhaps she changed this pic to hurt me in some way. I’m honestly confused.

So, I’m left without answers. I’ve been working with Wendy still. I’ve been keeping to myself and doing the best that I can to get through the anniversaries this month. I will likely take down this blog at some point, as it seems futile to keep posting about a woman who is likely a lost cause. Not to be insensitive, but she’s more likely to stay wrapped in her codependent dysfunction than leave her abuser.

The only reason I puzzled together the narc abuse/codependency is because of her pins–they’re easily linked back to several support communities across social media. While I fixated on his bipolar disorder as a main issue in their marriage, it turns out there’s something perhaps uglier going on.

The path to narc abuse recovery/codependency is long and painful. I wish her well.

I encourage you folks to comment on my post, any ideas, any thoughts, any soon-to-be goodbyes. I thank you all for being part of my blogging past.

A sincere and heartfelt thank you.



Silence and Darkness

Since my therapy session last Tuesday, I haven’t had much to say. It triggered the most insecure parts of myself, where rejection, pain, fear, and darkness reside.

Courtesy: Uncyclopedia

Courtesy: Uncyclopedia

This week is her wedding anniversary and I’m feeling that deeply. I’m also still wondering if there will be a baby announcement coming soon.

Apart from fearing for her, as she remains in an emotionally abusive marriage, I fear for myself more than anything else.

I’ve been trying to cope with persistent feelings of emptiness, like I’m going through the motions of my life without much feeling or meaning. I’ve lost meaning and connection with all things I used to love or feel passion for.

This past week was incredibly difficult, as a war of insecurity and inferiority was waged. I find myself feeling like I’m at the lowest point of my life, unable to feel hope that I will get better from this, or feel fulfilled again. It’s a place I’ve never been to before and it scares me.

I’m finding that the weekends are the worst for me, as I suppose therapy catches up to me from Tuesday. I’ve had an exhausting week, putting out fires around me started by everyone but me.

As I write this, I look and feel very despondent; I’m deflated and the only word or feeling that comes to mind is darkness.

Emptiness has gotten a foothold, and, I’ll say it again, it scares me.

Phase 4,333: Disgust

While the title of this blog post is humorous, entering the disgust phase is hardly that. From my and Wendy’s therapy session on Tuesday, a floodgate of frustration has opened. Imagine a total outpouring of emotional disgust mixed with apathy and wanting to disappear (again).

Courtesy: Beautiful Zimbabwe Short of entering the witness protection program, I have (again) removed another layer of social media from my digital existence. I removed my professional Pinterest. I do not want her “stalking” me on there or looking for actions or “answers” to her many prompts or attempts at connection. Or, as Wendy put it, “she’s hoping you will stumble upon her pins and see these coded messages to you.”

Really? Let me get this straight: this married woman is still sending me virtual signals to try to reel me in again. This, after I’ve gone NC for 5 months. I don’t think I need to retype those lines: absorb, rinse, repeat. She’s hoping I see them, or more likely, my colleagues who follow her boards will tell me about them. And sometimes they do. I think they marvel at her shades of (crazy) persistence.

Is she looking for an affair redux? It’s a bit pathetic. No matter how much I realize my dreams will not be fulfilled with her, why can she not do the same? Friends, you’ve read my story on here; recall that she went “two feet (back) in her marriage.” Her asshole husband will not change, neither will she or her marital situation, so why bother? I guess I’m the only one who refuses to (re)enter fantasy land. Admission: 1 (Nancy). I’ve been rejected and heartbroken by/from her.

Is that not enough? Silently, I sit back and (mostly) hear of this train-wreck floating hidden messages that have to do with my personality, the things we used to do, and posting images of Lana (for what? to soften me and invite me back?). You guys know I’m deeply hurt from the loss of them both, but let’s be real here: that’s not my life, not my wife, and not my child. Sure as hell is not my responsibility. She gave that up, along with her right to retain any information regarding my life. I hope she enjoys fantasy land because I’m disgusted by her behavior. Maybe next week will find me entering another emotional phase, but for now, the floodgates remain open.

Scream: Delusional

Some days–and this is one of them–I want to scream, not say, that she’s fucking delusional.

Courtesy: LeVine Gallery

Courtesy: LeVine Gallery

Fucking, fucking, fucking delusional.

There, I feel a bit better. Overwhelmed today. Bit overwhelmed today.

Friendship: A Great Insult

There’s ongoing debate about remaining friends after a breakup. Some people offer friendship as a way to numb the pain, or soften the blow they deliver to–most times–an unsuspecting partner. 

In my situation, I don’t know if I’m alone in believing that friendship is not only next to impossible, but terribly unrealistic. Who remains “friends” with an affair partner? Is she completely out of her fucking mind? 

And, yes, I am denoting irony by placing quotation marks around the word friends.

How can I be a friend? 

Courtesy: WKDU 91.7fm

Courtesy: WKDU 91.7fm

While I never wanted to be part of an illicit relationship, the fact remains, that I was. By her not choosing to end her primary relationship, I am inevitably the third party. And whereas I have made the difficult decision to go no contact for months, she seems to take my rejection of her friendship as a slight. 

Put simply: her offering of a friendship is an insult to me and my feelings.

I understand that she abruptly–probably an understatement–chose to return to her marriage to try to “fix” what was broken from the very beginning of her relationship with him and so that meant I was on the outs. There’s simply no room for me in her life, nor can there really be. How does one explain to her husband that she’s keeping friendship with me? What partner accepts that after I’ve been with his wife?

Am in the Twilight Zone? I sometimes feel that way. Please let me know if I am. 

I think she has a difficult time letting people go–again, huge understatement–but, by default, I am the one who often does. I have no place in her life; she’s not just married, she chose to stay married. This, after all of her talk of a divorce and going to arbitration. Suddenly, she couldn’t back-peddle fast enough. 

Wendy and I agree that it’s next to impossible for her to realistically expect friendship. It would be the equivalent of torture for me, as I would constantly be on the outside looking in on a life that I want with her. And though in her mind her relationship with Dave is over, she still chose to stay and make it a priority. What doesn’t she get?

Here are my options, if I were to accept her “terms” of friendship: I would inevitably “come alive” by gaining access to her and Lana again, but at the same time, watch Nancy go back home to Dave. It would simultaneously be the best and the worst thing to ever happen to me. A simple case of unrequited love and expectation. 

Who lives like that? And while I realize I’m now at a safe distance from immediate pain and involvement with her, I still feel gutted and empty without her. It’s the strangest and most painful dichotomy. 

What are your thoughts about accepting versus not accepting friendship? I’m interested to know.



Lately, I’m finding it difficult to remain emotionally firm and hopeful. I find that a few days after my therapy sessions–usually at the beginning of every week–I am “injected” with some much needed strength and coping. However, as the week progresses, it all wears off. What temporarily numbs the pain of dealing with the aftermath of Nancy is gone.

I woke up numb, yet anxious this morning. I know it’s over, but it’s all very difficult to accept. Hope carried me through much of this week, but I’m afraid I need another boost or shot of strength. My levels are low and the pain is incredibly difficult to feel. Deep within my chest I have an incredible sadness that eventually moves me to tears. (Yes, we’re back to tears again.)

Admittedly, I haven’t cried for (maybe) two days, which is something of an achievement. 

Courtesy: Earthenergyreader

Courtesy: Earthenergyreader

What do I do from here? Is it all really over?

Was it all just a mistake from the very beginning, and I must now face further isolation and loneliness? 

I continue to have a profound sense of foreboding, as the month of September will–at a pace we often lament over–perhaps reveal the truth behind the baby board Nancy put up on Pinterest. There still looms the possibility that she’s (about) 4 months pregnant, and I don’t know how to cope with that. It makes me feel so accessory; like I never meant much from the beginning. That her biological clock–with a man she (allegedly) cannot stomach–rang a bit louder than the beat of my heart, the reverberations of my love. In my (sordid) mind, the baby negates all of our history and any potential reconciliation. Again, this was someone I shared my day-to-day life with for a time, as we talked of a future. And although talk is talk, I believed in so much more, as I felt she did too.

I feel like the biggest fool of a lifetime. I’ve had to accept a path that I never chose and that stings every day. 

How can someone go from the depths of infidelity to “rectifying” their marriage by having another baby? I struggle to understand the logic–or lackthereof–behind this. 

Foreboding and fear have crept into my mind and heart these days. Every month that passes, I wonder how I will cope with further finality–my heart does not want to let go.

But I’m merely a stranger to her now; perhaps she has forgotten about me. Put me away forever. It has been nearly 5 months since I’ve seen her last and no trace of me to be found on social media. Well, except my professional website and such. Still, there’s nothing personal–no means by which to update her on my life, as she claimed to care so much about.

I don’t understand how someone could offer to share their world, their child, and then take it all back. I don’t know what to do, or how to feel besides numb. I feel a deep isolation and emptiness. 

I’m even afraid to let her go in my heart. Do I simply write it off as never meant to be? I simply cannot bring myself to do this. I don’t want to live this life without her, but at the same time, I have no choice.

I am afraid to lose all feelings for her completely. Whether I hurt for her or from the loss of her, the point is, I hurt. Deeply.

Parallels and Pins

Part of my weekly therapy sessions is spent discussing Pinterest. Now, it’s a popular social media platform, but hardly what one might expect to be discussed during an emotional “chat.” 

Nevertheless, Nancy–the Pinterest wonder–has been at it again. While I refrain from keeping a virtual “eye” on her, my good friend Ben updated me, as he follows her teaching board. (Note to self: smash Ben’s laptop and de-wire his internet access at midnight.)

For those of you who do not know, I studied literature, and Nancy is quite familiar with this fact. You see, she has become, how shall I put this, quite literary in my absence from Pinterest. First, it was a quote from the Great Gatsby, lately it’s how J.R.R. Tolkien has ruined her expectations of men (courtly love that she noted she got from me and not Dave), and of



course, another quote by Tolkien: 

“Not one drop of my self-worth depends on your acceptance of me.”

Only Tolkien didn’t say that. Quincy Jones did. (Social media is really inept when it comes to proper citation.)

Who gives a shit, right? Well, the context in which Quincy Jones said this was based on race.

While Nancy is pinning (and pining) away, my therapist and I seem to think she’s using this as a portal through which to direct commentary…at me. She’s hoping I see these pins and see how much she’s changed her home around, is getting organized (a distinct personality trait of mine that I used to gently help reshape her mass levels of disorganization), pictures of Lana (seeing that might hit a soft spot in my heart), and finally, literary pins about unfulfilled expectations of men (what happened to Dave the romantic?!), and now she’s likely feeling the pinch of her bisexuality (?)

Wendy asks about my no contact policy often and how difficult it must be to uphold it. No shit. But I cannot compromise this married woman, her family unit, and precious little girl. She didn’t choose me; she chose her family. She chose him.

Together, Wendy and I drew parallels with respect to achieving self-worth–Nancy is likely coming out as bisexual and developing a new sense of self, while I already went through that. On the other hand, I am now coping with grief, as Nancy likely grieved the “end” of our relationship/affair. I think we’re both working on ourselves, with the help of therapy, and hopefully becoming better people. 

To round this out, let me simply say–and I’m practicing being vulnerable, which is not easy so cut me some slack here–if this pin at all reflects what’s currently shaping her life, as she pinned it twice to her account, then I’m incredibly proud of her. She needs to find her inner strength and self-worth; she sabotages healthy things in her life in favor of a malingering prick known as her husband. It’s one thing to cope and deal with mental illness, but it’s quite another to let it dictate and overrun your life, especially when that equals abusing your wife and child. 

I may catch heat for saying that, but fuck it. I’ll be honest. Some people malinger–sad truth, get over it. 

For all the parallels and pins, I hope we both work through our issues living separate lives. After all, she’s the one who chose the path that she did, and maybe this time, she made a decision that benefits her. She needs to get out of her abusive marriage and reclaim her self-worth. I wish that for anyone suffering through emotional, verbal, and physical abuse.

Leave the fuckers.


September Slide

It’s only the 3rd day of September and the month is off with a bang! (Keep your minds out of the gutter.)

My fourth therapy session with Wendy was on Monday, and we had a great hour-long talk. In fact, at the end of our session, she offered to reduce my fee and record our sessions going forward.

I’m thinking to myself, “Shit. Am I that bad?” 

She’s planning to use my sessions for training purposes (she does emotionally-focused therapy–I’m probably in for it). Great, now I’m a visual “nut.” Just kidding. 

Courtesy: SomeeCards

Courtesy: SomeeCards

Foolishly, perhaps, I agreed to it. But if I get to help others, then I’m all for it. Besides, there’s ongoing research on complicated grief, and perhaps I can use my access to language to help explain what I’m going through. In turn, maybe this helps sufferers relate to the overall experience of grief.

One hour after my therapy session, I attended a faculty meeting, as the semester is off to a fresh start. As I sat among 50 colleagues, the issue of development workshops came up. Many were requesting that we learn more about how to work with students on the autism spectrum. 

When the head of faculty development asked if any among us knew of an autism expert, I raised my hand.

Yes, I recommended Nancy to come in to teach our faculty members.

You may think I’m terribly foolish, but it’s nothing more than a professional recommendation. She may not even know who recommended her; I hope she thrives with this opportunity.

You see, I explored my feelings further with Wendy and I still love Nancy–I always will. I wish that timing were different, and that she didn’t break my heart, but I want her to thrive and do well for her and her daughter. This could open some nice financial doors for her developing business to help individuals with autism. She has a good heart, I just don’t know where the fuck her mind or self-esteem is. 

This is my kindness for the week. I’d do this for anyone; it just happens to be for the lady who broke my heart.

(Incidentally, I will not be attending the workshop, should she take the offer; I will be out of town…thankfully.) 

Missing Pieces

So sad. So disappointed. So dejected.

I still feel something’s missing in my center.

I guess, as someone said, I’ll come through this but not out of it.

I don’t see the difference. I don’t know what I’ll get or become from all of this.

Courtesy: Thoughts for the Day Blog

Courtesy: Thoughts for the Day Blog

Maybe nothing. I don’t know.

There’s still moments I’ll stop performing a task and cry. 

My head will lower to the desk and I’ll cradle my head and cry.

I don’t know what to do from here. What I want from my personal life; I’m missing a part of me and I don’t know if I’ll ever recover it.

At one time, professional success was enough to keep me stable and satisfied; my accomplishments kept me strong, kept me going. 

Now that I’ve had a taste of a fuller life with someone I fell in love with, for good or ill, I am incomplete.

It’s a scary feeling for me to know that I cannot fill the hole, or overlook the pain, because I can achieve professional success.

The most debilitating part of this: I cannot return to my ways of “fixing” what wasn’t right. If I were heartbroken before, I could just move on and use success as a catalyst.

This. Is. Different. I don’t know what to do from here.