So i read my last post....before writing this one. Mediation was a total waste of time, just like I thought it would be and he was a total asshole, just like i thought he would be. I wanted one thing and one thing only (for him to pay for my car payment) and even though I gave him the house and everything else, he still couldn't do that. So after two and a half hours my lawyer (a/k/a my boss), stood up and said "Okay, tell him we'll see him in court." And with that, we left. My boss did linger at the courthouse and did, again, run into STBX. He said STBX needed a haircut. Again. Of course he does. I'm no longer there to tell him these things and apparently whatever trollop he's whoring around with doesn't have the wherewithal to tell him either. And that would mean they are a match made in heaven. Good for him. I left and called one of my friends and was telling her all about it. She interrupted me at one point and said "I really expected you to be more upset." I wasn't. I didn't see him, granted, but he was literally, right there. I heard his voice. It didn't make me want to cry. It made me want to smother him and slit his throat simultaneously. I felt that was progress. . . .
I guess right now you're proud of me, as I was of myself? Well.......
Saturday after my laptop finally bit the dust, I unpacked and set up the desktop I had bought back in August. I had (thankfully) transferred all pics and music from said RIP laptop to an external hard drive. So I spent Saturday evening transferring music to the desktop. Sunday, feeling IT accomplished, I remembered the external hard drive that STBX had given me post separation. The content? All docs and music from our "family" desktop. I hooked it up (after many failed attempts in the past) and sure enough, it worked just fine. I started transferring THAT music over as well. I was going to have the most fully stocked music library ever! So as I am waiting for music to download/transfer/whatever, i notice the documents on there as well. I start clicking. THIS WAS A MISTAKE. The first thing I clicked was titled "Love Letter." Okay, really? Shouldn't I have known better? ? ? ? ? Who was I kidding? It was a letter from 2001 that he had typed at about 5 in the morning. He loved me, couldn't believe he'd found me, couldn't wait to live the rest of his life with me. He would never let anything come between us. He would take care of me and love me forever.
Bullshit.
It has been a long time since I cried about him. But I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. My cheeks felt hot. But I couldn't stop reading those words, in black and white, in front of me. The problem wasn't reading the letter itself, but that I could, very much so, remember when i read that letter for the first time. It was an overwhelming memory that took me by surprise and shook me to my core. I read it twice, the tears dripping down my face and falling onto my shirt. I finally stood up, surveyed the possibility of a smooth escape, and went out the back door. It was cold but sunny outside. My children were engrossed in their video game and my boyfriend (luckily) was taking a nap. I sat on those steps and I cried and cried and cried, sobbing into my own hands, feeling the breath escape me. I cried like I probably have needed to cry for some time. And after a while, I could hear the familiar sounds of my backyard over my own sniffles and sobs. The sun was shining and it was warm on my face. There were birds eating under the trees and squirrels chasing each other down by the storage house. And I took a moment to realize that I wasn't sitting there wishing all of this away (my yard and my house mean a LOT to me...) I was merely grieving those past feelings. It was 2001; that's a LONG time ago. It's been a LONG time since I felt that close to him, and reading that letter may have been the first time I really had really remembered that part of us. . . . There was a time I felt that he loved me and a time I was positive I loved him. There was a time when i truly felt, even foolishly naively, that he thought he was lucky to have me and appreciated me. And remembering that made me suddenly and unwillingly deal with the divorce in a whole new perspective. I didn't like it. I didn't want to feel that way. I certainly did NOT want to shed a single tear for him. But I did. And in the end, it felt good. I may cry again. My best friend told me early on, "if you need to cry, then cry. The more you cry now, the less you will later." Well I'm all for that. If that is one less tear that falls over him in the long run, then all the better. I've already wasted too much time on him. As far as my mini-meltdown goes, I got caught by my children. They are forever tracking me down and found me on the back porch, wiping away tears. They sat down, one on each side of me. One put his arm around me, the other kissed my cheek. We talked for a minute about what I had found and how it made me feel. I explained that it didn't change anything. I was happy overall and I was certainly happy with our new life together, the three of us. But I was sad. They seemed to understand. They sat there with me until I had pulled myself together, and they walked into the house behind me, as if to be sure I didn't relapse. It was all very sweet. And I realized at that moment that these two 14 year olds had a more firm grasp on reality than the39 yr old STBX. So no matter how you look at it, I really did get the best end of the deal. I am happy. I hate the uncertainty of my situation at this moment, but over all I am happy. And no words outta his mouth at mediation, and no words in a letter from 9 years ago is going to change that.
No comments:
Post a Comment