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Posts Tagged ‘divorce’

This has been an eye-opening week for both of us.

I’m doing much better than I thought I would. I’m having allergy problems with my pet, as we usually dwell in separate rooms. The medication seems to be helping with that. I don’t want to send her back to the house, then I’d really be alone. It sounds weird, but it’s the truth, the rat’s good company. She’s a comfort and I’d like for her to stay.

The work front is going well. I survived the shift that tried to kill me, and I’ve been hired full-time for a different shift. Fingers crossed that my body is better suited to this one. I don’t like to admit it, but I shouldn’t do the things I used to do with impunity. No, I’m not old. Middle age has cruelties of its own. Cruelties I’ll take over being twenty something again in a New York minute, thank you very much.

At any rate, I have my husband’s undivided attention at present. I don’t think he thought I’d ever walk out the door, let alone stay away. We’ve gotten along better in the last week than we have for years. Sad, I know. Tomorrow is our first counseling session with my counselor. It will be interesting to see how that goes. She knows both of us and has promised to give us exercises to do in order to rebuild the relationship.

I’m feeling more hopeful at this point. We’re getting along. He’s stopped the clingy stuff, which is very good. There’s been no begging or hollow promises, which surprises me to be frank. It’s a refreshing change.

Of course if living apart is the only way we’re going to get along, I’m happy to stay where I’m at. Getting along apart beats the $&^% out of living together the way we were.

Maybe, just maybe we still stand a chance.

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It’s been a long time coming, and here I am in my new place for at least thirty days. I even managed to get myself hooked up to the internet. This is generally my husband’s job, so it felt good to do it by myself.

He brought over dinner last night. We talked, cried and talked some more. I didn’t feel so overwhelmed with him on my turf. He’s been mighty clingy. I don’t do clingy any better than I do ignored.

I thought it would be a lot weirder than it is. At this point I know we aren’t going to get anywhere living together, at least I’m not. It’s so nice not to feel the pressure of being at the house. It’s just me and my pet rat, Maggie. Yes, I said rat. She’s a complete love and I adore her. The two of us make a good team. smile At present she’s checking things out, under my watchful eye.

Per status quo I forgot things at the house and had to go back. I tried to figure out a way around it, but couldn’t. The cost of the items forgotten couldn’t be justified. It was a difficult trip and very strange to be in the house. I’d only left a few hours earlier, but it still felt foreign to be there. It’s not my place anymore, and I’m okay with that.

Right now I don’t know if it will ever be ‘my place’ again. My name’s on the mortgage, yet estranged.

I have to deal with financial stuff today, and turn in my rental paperwork. I’m doing month to month. The least amount of pressure possible is what I’m going for. The sun is shining and it looks to be as if it’s going to be a beautiful day.

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I’ve been gathering up some things this morning and I was struck at how easy it’s been to pull out what’s important and abandon the rest. It goes with what I’ve said for years. Stuff is nice. I like my stuff. In the end it’s just stuff and stuff comes and goes.

There are things I’m leaving because I have no place for them. There are clothes I can’t wear this time of year. As I look around I realize how little much of it means to me. It used to, but somehow without a solid relationship it really doesn’t seem to matter.

I’ve got bills to pay and clothes to pack. The computer will be the last thing into the car, so I can find a nice secure spot for it among my meager belongings, mostly clothes and must have my pillows.

I’m oddly calm about all of this and have been since shortly after the decision was made. Facing something and actually doing it are so different. Indecision is the painful space of life. This isn’t a rash decision. Lord knows it’s over due, I just couldn’t take that step. One more chance. One more this or that. Yeah, well sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn’t.

At this point I’m wondering how long I’ll be gone. A month, three or more? We’ll just have to see how it goes.

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I was speaking with a dear friend this morning and she pointed out the reason I was having so much trouble recommitting is because my husband broke one of the deal breaker rules, I established a very long time ago.

1. Don’t hit me. It will be the last time you see me.

2. Don’t lie to me. Three strikes you’re out.

3. Don’t cheat on me. I don’t share.

He’s lied, at least three times over stupid things because he didn’t want to deal with me.

Unconventional as it was, he cheated. And that’s a rock I can’t make myself climb over.

My next day off is Tuesday. I’ve made arrangements to stay in a place close to work. It’s designed for long term stays for Executives, Doctors, Nurses, so on. No need for me to fumble around looking for or packing housewares, they’re there. All I need bring is me, my clothes, food, my precious pet, Maggie and my computer, can’t forget that.

My sternum  feels cracked in half. And I’m crying again dammit.

I know this is what needs to happen, if there’s to be any sort of a change for us, me. I need to be somewhere to heal and take care of just me. I can’t do that here. So why does it hurt so fracking bad?  How is it the right thing to do is rarely the easy thing?

Someone please take the axe out of my chest.

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So it would seem my bringing up our counseling in a very noisy, busy, restaurant rattled him more than I thought. Honestly I think it’s the counselor I mentioned more than the place, but anyway. This counselor knows both of us. Gasp, someone who could call his nonsense!

We went out to dinner with friends and had a very nice time. Or so I thought. I’m bopping around doing what I do and I find him in the dining room. In the dark. Okay. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Alright then,” and I go on about my business. This whole drama king thing is on my last nerve.

Twenty minutes later. I’m in the kitchen. He comes in and sits on a bar stool, staring at me expectantly. Really? So I ask, “What?”

He doesn’t answer. I’m close to glaring now. “Dump it. What’s up?”

We are back to how ‘he’ feels. What ‘he’ expects. What ‘he’ heard me say. (which wasn’t even remotely close to what I meant.)

I commence to do my level best to explain my position. He doesn’t get it. I start to cry. Okay, I was sobbing. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. See this is why we need counseling, I don’t seem to speak his language.

His response? He wants to comfort me as I comfort him? huh? This is just so twisted.

I finally stopped crying and tried to escape him outside for fresh air. He follows me. Big surprise. He’s still talking. I’m sort of listening and wondering who called me while I was bawling my head off. As I head into the house I pull my cell from my pocket and connect to voice mail.

OH! He’s not done talking. le groan. He’s upset at how rude I am. Fine. I called back my friend, answered her question and then faced him. Because the world revolves around him. I explained I thought he was done and I wondered who had called. He forgave me and turned toward the sink, saying, “Don’t ever do that to me again!”

Oh really? I went upstairs. If I’d opened my mouth I’d have never gotten to bed, and I had an appointment in the morning. He’s issuing me orders now? I $#@!@*& don’t think so.  I ruminated yesterday. The answer? I need to live with myself for a while. I checked out extended stay places. No, don’t go to the hourly dives with a ‘hot tub’ in every room. Shivers. Ick. No, there are executive suites for extended stays. Mostly business trips, but it works for my purpose too.

I’ll be scoping them out after work tomorrow. Gah! I didn’t want it to come to this.

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This week has been a bizarre mixture of sublime and eye-opening moments.

The sublime? The stars aligned and all of my daughter’s wedding party could be at the store to choose bride’s maid dresses. It only took about an hour, another fifteen minutes for them to dress the flower girl. Then I was abandon at the cash register with a very cheerful sales person, as she read our order back to me. Dazed is a good description. It was like getting sucked back in time to when they would play dress up in my living room. The chatter and squeals were delightful. Have I mention how much I love this bunch? Yeah, I do. Pat my chest, my girls are all grown up.

My husband, who hasn’t been involved in this sort of thing, oh since, em, never. (Not a single dance or prom) Now confesses to feeling left out. Huh? You really wanted to look at dresses with squealing young women and not a man item in sight? Bridal shop. Remember? Solid girl, wall to frilly wall. I said if he wanted to come for our daughter’s dress fitting he certainly could. He winged a brow at that.

The real deal? It’s killing him that I have money and he doesn’t know how much. Too bad so sad. My sanity money will stay right where it is. It was a gift from my father and has nothing to do with you.

I went to see my counselor on Friday as we spoke I kept hitting on the point that I was stuck. I have no idea how to move forward. She suggested until I felt fully heard it was unlikely that I can. Great. More waiting for him. Crap!

She suggested that we see her together. This is not someone my husband would have chosen. When I told him what she said, he went a bit unhinged. He scowled that we shouldn’t be discussing this in a restaurant.  Really? I’ll spare some of the things he’s brought up at the dinner table; at a restaurant.

Earlier in the day he apologized for not getting me flowers this week. I told him, he didn’t have to get me flowers every week. His reply? Yes I do.

Okay, so this about me is it?

We had a quiet evening after the counseling conversation. A couple of hours after we got home, he told me he needed me. Now that’s a news flash. I answered, I know.

No, he says, I need your support.

Say what?  I draw my knees to my chest in the chair I was sitting on.- I’m not going to comfort you while you cry about how you’ve treated me.

He claimed that wasn’t it. We are not convinced in the slightest way possible.

He’s scared. I get that, so am I. To look for me to support him in that is ridiculous. It’s like tearing down the shop and expecting me to help him rebuild it.  I didn’t tear the damned thing down. Deal with it.

I was an accomplice to how long this situation was allowed to carry on. He’s the one who is solely responsible for the state of his life. I won’t, can’t help fix that. It’s not possible. If it could have been done, it would have been down a thousand times over with results.

And so here I stand wondering, again, what the hell I think I’m doing?

Plan A is solidifying whether either of us like it or not. I don’t feel married. I’d rather be alone most of the time. Plan B, is looking less likely with each passing day. le sigh.

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Which is not necessarily a good thing. I’ve been out of training for a week. More time to be at home and with my family.

The first couple of days were a wild catch up with life affair. Our daughter is getting married later this year. We finally went wedding dress shopping. Hand to heart; my baby. We found the perfect dress for her. Price? We won’t go there. It was more than I had thought to spend, but in the overall bridal scene, we did very well. The look on her face when she tried it on? OMG! Mama almost cried. Her dad most certainly would have.

The effects of low testosterone become more and more clear. It is nice to see him with more energy. His muscle mass is increasing as are other youthful tendencies.  So I’m complaining? Well, no, not exactly.

In November I barely was a blip on his radar. Now? I’m sorta of squirming under all of the attention. The pendulum has gone to the other high and it’s just strange. Uncomfortable for me too.

For him, this is an awakening. Things were never bad. He always loved and desired me. “Honey, I’m HOME!”

For me, it rather like being thrust into the middle of a game I don’t know if I want to play yet. Having his attention is nice, very nice. And scary as hell. Let’s remember, we’ve been here three or four times in the proceeding ten years. Each time I’ve plugged my ears, sang ‘Lalalalala’ it’s all better now. Only to be brought up short with the next episode.

A year ago December I had an epiphany. We were in the kitchen. He was ranting about something, which was clearly his fault, as if it weren’t. He was angry because I didn’t agree with him. As I stood there, I thought, ‘How many times am I going to allow myself to be standing here?’

How many times am I going to endure this behavior for the fleeting good moments we have?

To present only two issues have been addressed. His lethargy and his lack of attention for me. It would be sooo easy to take what I’ve got and call it good for as long as it lasted. It really would. Being the adult isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’ve been hurt enough to know the folly of going there.

This new him seems manic to me. Manic never lasts over the long haul. This is a marathon, not a sprint. So I still on guard.

We haven’t addressed the money issues. Nor has he addressed his personal worth issues. Both are equally important to me where the ongoing status of the marriage is concerned. They are a sticking point, I can’t ignore.

Last night he asked if he’d mentioned lately, what good care I take of him. When I said it had been a while (I don’t recall him ever mentioning it.) He told me that I took very good care of him. To which I answered, I know. haha.

He was a little put upon by this answer. I guess he was looking for some gushing, ‘You noticed! Thank you.’ Em, yeah, no.

There a few things of which I’m sure. The level of care for my family is one of them. It is point of pride for me to know my family is well cared for and know they are loved. No, it’s not a revelation to me on any level. Sorry dude. Keep up.

So we are still on the other side of the looking glass. I still feel unsteady and uncertain in the relationship and my status in the world.  Things could go either way. And as bad as I want to stay, I won’t if this doesn’t level out into real change.

Have I mentioned lately how much I don’t want to take care of myself? I don’t want to, dammit! Throws three year old temper tantrum. Ahem, sorry about that. It annoys me to be in this position at this stage of my life. So it goes. At least I’m not crying today. That’s something, isn’t it?

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