Remember Schrödinger’s cat?

We all learned about this from Big Bang Theory, right?  Essentially, you have a cat sealed up in a box, maybe with some poison.  The theory is that, as long as the box remains closed, you don’t really know whether the cat is alive or dead.  (Let’s assume this is a soundproof box, and one too heavy to lift and shake.  Because otherwise, the cat would make its displeasure quite obvious, and if it didn’t, we’d all be rattling the box  trying to get the thing to respond.  Or opening cans of tuna.  Because any cat not responding immediately to the mechanical crunching of a can opener is obviously dead.)

I realized today that I have some weird, mutant form of this thought experiment kitty going on in my marriage.  With my spouse’s revelation last week, I’ve spent a lot of time in a thick fog, unable to visually articulate whether my marriage is dead, or alive.

And right now?  It’s kind of…both.

Because it’s been all I’ve written about for two weeks, you already know this, but to recap:   the hubs told me that he had, about two years ago, opened an account on Ashley Madison.  He claims that, while he spent over $250 freaking dollars on it <insert colorful expletive of choice> he never actually met up with anyone.  He had some fairly surface-level electronic conversations…but that was it.  Eventually, he closed the account and walked away.

That was that…until the news broke of the security breach.  At that point, he knew he had to tell me, before one of my less-trusting or drama-seeking friends “accidentally” found out, and felt compelled to let me know.

I’ve been struggling with whether to believe him or not.

And I’ve come to discover that it doesn’t really matter all that much.

Now, before you examine my cranium for dents, let me explain.  It’s basically that philosophical feline, both alive and dead because it is neither.

I have a choice here.  I can spend a shiz-ton of time examining, inspecting, and analyzing every nuance and detail of every exchange and communication over the last two years, trying to find the golden nugget of information that will lead me to a conclusion.

Or, I can accept him at his word.

Either way, the sooner I can get out of this dark cloud of over-thinkingness, the sooner I can choose to forgive him.  The sooner I can forgive him, the sooner I can get on with life – MY life – whichever direction that may be.

In other words…it kinda looks like this:

The hubs and I spent a lot of time talking last weekend.  We had our first counseling session, where he spent a full hour eating crow, barely choking on the feathers.  On Saturday, I said I wanted to be outside, so he took me to one of the most gorgeous spots I can get to in under two hours.

You just can’t waste a day like this, ya know?  And when the thinks and the thoughts try to smother your joy, there’s nothing like sunshine and giant rocks to bring your inner child out to play.

We hiked up and down the rocks for nearly four hours.  On the way, we spotted some really cool ‘shrooms.  It’s kind of neat that God’s crayon box is open even to the lowest fungi.

Some of the rock formations formed natural “potholes” (although they look more like tunnels to me):

And there were several cliffs and bluffs, most of which were clearly made before the 80s (when we could learn by reading, instead of by, say, life experience or common sense, that it was not safe to use your toaster in the bathtub and that coffee is generally served hot) because there aren’t any guard rails or restraining bars.  Theoretically, you could gently nudge someone to Absolute Enlightenment, or pay your own tuition to harp school, with a little chutzpah and a committed shove.

(Don’t think I wasn’t tempted to wing out an elbow.)

And eventually, we ran into this cool little fella.  He didn’t have a whole lot to say.  (The truly cool never do.  They just hang out lookin’ fly while you wish you could be them.)

I was going to try to pick him up, but I don’t know enough about snakes to know which ones can kill me, so I opted out of THAT little adventure.  I found out later that it was probably just a harmless milk snake, and the worst he’d probably do is try to hug you to death, and really, aren’t there worse ways to go?  (Like having your deranged spouse kick you in the left kidney, sending you tumbling down a rock face into a murky river where you’re run over by a dinner cruise teeming with drunken nuns?  Did I mention I was tempted?)

(Side note:  I did add a snake pic to my Facebook page.  In which I promptly tagged my spouse.  One part passive-aggressive…forty-seven parts immensely satisfying.   Heh.)

I still have a lot to work out – with myself, with my spouse, with the state of my marriage.  But you can’t spend a day in THIS and not be able to think that somehow you’re gonna be okay.

I put my toe on the edge of a bluff.  Not ready to make a decision, this is as close as I can stomach to stand to the edge.

Calm, overwhelmingly blue skies above.  Exciting river of energy below.  A few rocks to clear that keep you grounded in rugged reality.

Every direction is intriguing.  I have all the time I need to choose which way to go, and if I take my time and plot my course carefully, I can easily turn around if I want some different scenery.

I can’t speak for Schrödinger, but MY cats sure as heck ain’t gonna starve to death any time soon.

I think I’ll just breathe for a while and take in the view.