As some of you likely noticed, I took a bit of a break from writing here for a while. I needed to figure out why I was doing this and whether I wanted to continue sharing my story with the world. Even though I blog under an alias it is still MY story and when I started to receive feedback from readers I began to wonder if this was worth it. So I stopped.
When I decided to do this I knew everyone wasn’t going to love it. In fact, I was pretty sure some people would hate it and judge me and I was prepared for that. But what I didn’t anticipate was how terrible it would make other people feel. My story is mine so I never thought about it impacting others and hurting them. I wasn’t prepared for that.
But after some time thinking, I have decided to start writing again. My story is one of love and loss. No matter how complicated and mixed-up, that is how I see it. I think it is human and relatable and, as I now know, not unique. However, I feel it is important to tell it. I want you to know me because I am like you. I want you to hear about my life because it is much like yours. And I want you to know my story because, one day, you may find yourself here. And if you do, what would you do? Maybe I can help you figure it out. You may think you know but can you be sure? I thought I was too. And then I met Jackson…
“Helloooo? Lyla?”
Jill’s voice pulled me out of my daze. She had called to see where I had been. It had been over 2 weeks since “the kiss” and I hadn’t been back to photography class. I kept making excuses to Joel, to my friends, and to myself but I knew the reason. I knew with every ounce of my being. If I saw him again, ever, this time I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Since that moment I had not been able to think of anything else. I was completely distracted. I was able to get myself from A to B but ask me how I got there or why and I had no idea. I couldn’t eat. I hadn’t slept in weeks. I was a total mess. But the crazy thing was that no one in my life seemed to notice. The kids were where they were supposed to be when they were supposed to be there so I was flying under the radar.
And Joel was busy at work. He was home late. A lot. Which meant I had a lot of time to think and obsess and fantasize. And that is pretty much all I did.
I developed some photos I had taken in class only to find Jackson’s beautiful face staring up at me. Those knowing eyes just daring me to deny my feelings. I spent hours staring into those eyes willing myself to walk away and get back to my life.
“This is crazy.” I would scold myself while at the same time rushing to get the kids to bed so I could stare at him some more. All the while trying desperately to play the part of the good little wife and mother.
“This is impossible.” I would say. “Get over it. It can NOT happen.” And I knew this was true.
Yet I kept going back to the photos. Because, bubbling up just out of view, there was a new thought creeping to the surface:
“How can I not?”
Never in my life had I felt this way. So ALIVE. So wanted. So myself. With Jackson it wasn’t about playing a part or meeting expectations. It was just like a deep sigh of relief.
I really hadn’t thought that much about my marriage before this happened. I mean, this is just how marriages are – at least the one’s I know – the wife at home, the husband working to support this life. I knew there was something missing from my life but I looked pretty much everywhere else but here. Joel and I worked. We always had.
But I was naive. And one day, nearly three weeks after I had last seen him, I looked into Jackson’s eyes in that photo and I knew. I picked up the phone and dialed his number.
Wow, you must be a very strong woman to be able to tell your story. Whatever the outcome you did what you had to do for your own reasons. No matter what people think or say, it is your life, your decision, something you and the ones involved with you have to live with. Strange that I would not like it if my husband would see me reading your story. It scares me that I am interested in your story.
I have been following your story…and while I cannot relate to it 100%, I was really upset when you left us hanging. I’m glad you are back to finish what you started.
WELCOME BACK! Thank you so much for your courage and strength. You are taking me away to a place I don’t think I’ll ever go. Isn’t that what blogging is about – sharing your story. And to be honest, I am more interested in going places I’ve never been in a blog than reading about that which I know. Your story is teaching us about love, both the quiet kind and the explosive kind. I’m sure you love your husband but what is happening to you right now is crazy, scary, I’m 16 again love. I’m fascinated. I can understand that you may be getting some heated comments on this but we are women and this is a reality. You are like my dreams – a place that I go to and watch my imagination run wild. Keep sharing, please.
I am glad you are back, Lyla. We had tons of emails and feedback from people who wanted to read more! Thanks for sharing your story.