Blind-sided

This weekend was so fun. We had a blast at Angela's party - we originally expected to be bored out of our minds, so it was a pleasant surprise that we had such a good time. Fuzz had entirely too much to drink though and was extremely ill the next day. I think his stomach is still a little queasy today actually.

When Fuzz gets drunk, he has a tendancy to make dramatic proclomations. This weekend was no exception. He dropped one hell of a bombshell on me and I'm still not sure how to react.

I wish I could go to someone for advice, but what he told me can never, ever, be repeated. Not to anyone, no matter what the circumstances. I suggested he go to therapy to talk about it and he thought it was a good idea Saturday night, but has since changed his mind. Maybe I should go to therapy to learn how to deal with it. Part of me is wondering if I should leave him. But I won't know how I truly feel about what he told me until some time has passed. Then I'll know if I can get over it and move on or if it will continually haunt me throughout the course of our marriage. I'm incredibly torn. Sometimes I'll just look at him and feel such a horrible pain inside, and sometimes I'll feel such sadness for him, and sometimes I just want to hold him and forget all about it. I just don't know what to do. Or what to think, or what to say.

It didn't help that today I found out that the clomid I took this cycle definitely did not work. I'm kind of in a haze after getting all this bad news within the past week. I think I just really need someone to talk to and I don't have anyone.

One bit of good news, I get to see B-dog on Sunday. I absolutely cannot wait. It'll be so good to see her, I'm sure I'll feel so much better. And I really can't wait to see Sophia. I miss them both so much.

Well I guess I should get back to work. Hopefully next time I write I'll actually feel GOOD about something.