ANOTHER MORNING AFTER A NIGHT

I told myself I needed to get out of the house so yesterday I went to be a spectator at the annual  NYC Marathon. I got dressed up too just in case. Just in case I was to meet a wonderful person that might take me home and make this pain go away. Christ, just in case. I opened my front door and ONE OF THE NEIGHBOURS, (read my husband's Moroccan friends), was coming out the door as well. I, being much greater than the entire country of Morocco said, "Good morning". This was a "good morning" to the same guy who, (whom? who? Today I don't care), on my arrival to Brooklyn, when my husband failed to come home, I had asked directly if my husband was perhaps not home because he was married to another woman. He denied knowing anything. 

I need to digress for a moment. Here is a case and point where I have been told it is Qu'ranically permissible to lie. It is stated that it is permissible to lie to and about spouses if it is done to keep the union together. Let me give an example. If I know X about you and I know that if your spouse found out about it it would cause the marriage to be ruined, it is my duty to not tell you. Let's face it, I know the intention behind this, it's the same as do I really need to tell you that the dress you are wearing is as ugly as sin? No, because it will hurt your feelings and what point will be served? So the intention is a good one. A very good one. Here is the problem with it. Lie to me if you know my husband is going to a bar with his friends rather than to church on Sunday. Lie to me if you know my husband has a secret account somewhere were he is squirreling away money to. You don't lie if you know the spouse is doing something that becomes a deal breaker if the other one knows. Deal breakers are things that cannot be worked out and forgiven. 

Let me see would I have married my husband if I had known the following about him beforehand? That he was married already? That he had an additional small child than the one I already knew about? That this child was conceived while he was married to his second wife? That his second divorce came only one month before he and I married? Would I have married him? Maybe I would have. You see if you give me all of the facts up front then I make a decision based upon those facts. 

I have digressed enough. I watched the marathon pass me by. I came back upstairs, turned on the television to watch the finish, and saw that it was a Moroccan in first place, and felt so angry I began yelling at the picture on the screen. Then suddenly, miraculously, he was overtaken, and eventually beat out, by a Spaniard and I felt elated. And then I burst into tears. I don't remember the rest of the day. I cried so hard and long I feel dehydrated today. The skin on my fingers hurts my hands feel so dry. I have a headache and my eyes are puffy. I woke from sleep with a big fat sense of dread and despair. I woke up wanting to die. My favourite jazz radio station seems to be playing some sort of weird top 100 of cacophonous tunes. It feels like some sort of soundtrack to the madness I am engulfed by. It's raining and overcast. My bed looks like an invitation to die. Everything I own seems like it could care less about me. The episodes, on tape, that I have of Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot annoy me, and I feel mad urges to slap the pompousness right out of Poirot. I insert myself into each episode and tell him off. Get a life Poirot. Everyone was living until you showed up, you shite. I don't think I can live through another day. When I open my refrigerator and look inside I think it looks like a nice place to store cadavers. I feel like going outside - it's a perfect day for it-- and spitting on known Muslims. I feel so hurt for me. I hate everyone with children as they seems to be breeding more people to hurt me. I want my father to die so that I have one less thing to worry about. I wish a heart attack upon myself, quick and swift, so I don't have to think about starting a new job. I listen to Fats Waller complain about his companion having feet too large and I wonder why my problems can't be this petty. I wonder how he had the audacity to feel pride in such lyrics. I realize I have never had a Korean lover and think this may solve my problems if I can just find one. I think about teachers I have known and wonder why they didn't see this coming, after all, why call yourself a teacher? 

What is the point of recovery and working through this pain if, all that beckons me on the other side, is a dense profound hatred for humanity? I don't feel good today. 

Today, I can't see tomorrow.