I woke up yesterday and stared at my ceiling planning my morning run. I laced up my running shoes, put Mica's hair in a beautiful braid, got in the van and drove to a park. As Mica played I sat on the bench, willing myself to head to the gym as planned, but my legs felt heavy as though I was sliding bricks along with each step. The sun bounced off the sand and absorbed the last of the energy I had mustered up over my peanut butter and banana earlier in the morning. Mica walked up and simply signed "home," not even my offers to push her in the swing could persuade her to stay. I held her tiny little hand in mine as we trudged back to the van and went back home. Another failed run, that was 2 in a row. Why did it feel like the sky was weighing me down?
Paul got home moments later from yet another day in court related to the bar fight he was involved in. He was so confident, I assumed there had been yet another postponement in the case. Instead he just said, and with a smile, that he plead guilty. I felt the air rush out of my body and the anger plump my veins...Why would he plead guilty when he acted in self-defense? It is just ridiculous to me. The other man initiated the entire fight, and we have a witness. Unfortunately the supposed victim was leaning toward testifying against Paul. This makes no sense to me, the man is in a gang. What kind of gang member testifies? Didn't he get the gang member handbook? Hasn't he ever seen the Godfather? ... Paul explained that the DA offered him a deal, no jail time, just a small fine and anger management classes. Paul is ecstatic that the entire ordeal is behind us, and I know I should be too, but suddenly I found myself crying. I just couldn't process the idea that Paul plead guilty, and it was over.
I don't have to fall asleep afraid I'll wake up to an empty bed one day. I don't have to worry about getting jail letters, and accepting collect calls, and driving to whatever hell hole my husband was assigned to each Saturday with JT and Mica in their most adorable outfits, waiting to get a hug from Daddy. Yes, I glad it is over, but I am just so angry it ever began. I'm furious that a person can just push everyone around them until they snap, and then be labeled a victim and recieve support from the court system. I am frustrated that Paul had to miss at least 6 days of work for court. But on top of all of that, I am really livid that Paul should not have been at that bar to begin with.
I never did get out for a run yesterday, I followed Paul around like a puppy dog to get some errands done, keeping him in my line of sight as though at any second he could still disappear. We didn't celebrate or even discuss the situation any further, but I slept better than I have slept in 6 months. Now I am heading out for a run, and I know I will complete it and go on to finish a marathon in 2 more months. No more quitting... no more worrying...