Somedays I have nothing to say....

Others, I can't say enough.  I was rereading an older post and it caught my attention when I mentioned that STBX had told me OVER THE PHONE that he wanted a divorce. And in all actuality, it wasn't even that he told me so much as I drug it out of him.  But still, over the phone. And I began thinking about the content by which we measure things.  There was an episode of Sex and the City where a guy broke up with Carrie via post-it note.  When i remembered he told me (after ten years) that he wanted a divorce on the phone, i equated it to the post-it note.  I can remember when i was younger, a girlfriend of mine watched Carlito's Way with Al Pacino.  The scene where he is outside the door, trying to get this chick to open the door, and she won't, so he busts it down and goes in after her apparently to prove his determination and love for her, well that became the measure by which all men were gauged.  "Would he break down the door for you?" In an irony not yet realized until just this very minute, isn't it ironic that my marriage actually ENDED because he broke down the door.  His intentions, I promise, were neither determination nor love. 

Gauges evolve (or devolve) over the years.  Does he have a job? For how long? What is his POTENTIAL? Not does he want kids, but does he want MY kids?  Why did his last wife leave him? Would he break down the door/ do the dishes/ bring me Popsicles in bed?  It's funny to think at one point in my life, love was the only standard I had.  But since I have determined that not only can you define love your perception of love changes, it's no wonder people are getting divorced all of the time.  

Many people these days go into marriage with divorce as a safety net: "If it doesn't work out, we can always get a divorce."  Easier said than done.  Years ago, marriages were arranged out of necessity of the family.  It is only in the last few decades that marriages were conceived out of "love". . . I have a friend whose father and step mother married with an "agreement" to raise the children.  He had children, she had children, so they got married and raised children.  Then they divorced for reasons to do with the children. But the point is, society has evolved so much in the past fifty years that the attitude towards marriage and/or divorce has completely changed.  Be it lack of religion, lack of morals, in-dependency (is that a word???), marriage just does not hold the same allure as it once did.  Marriage is practically disposable to most.  I say I would never get married again. I think I mean that.  Honestly, after what I have been through, marriage vows don't tend to hold much water with most people.  And if I found a man who loved me and treated me with respect, made me laugh, loved my children and my family, does it really matter if we have that beige and green piece of paper?  That piece of paper didn't stop my babies' daddy from getting blow jobs from his ex-girlfriend on his lunch break. It did not keep STBX from making holes in the walls, busting down doors and terrifying me and my children.  That piece of paper, at the end of the day, only made it more difficult to leave an already deteriorating situation.  It did not motivate me to stay.  So when a man is treating me better than my friends' husbands are treating them, what is my motivation to marry? So I'll have his name? I have a name.  I can be just as faithful and loving and true to him with or without his name.  Sure, there is some old fashioned country girl left in me that twinges in the back of my mind, the thought of it all: marrying the man I love, professing it, having his name, signing checks with his name, etc... But it's the same fantasy I had when I was eight years old.  And now I've experienced what can happen.  Love is love with or without a marriage license. Love can change, it can stay the same.  People are different and they change. You just have to find someone who is changing at the same pace you are.  That way, your love evolves TOGETHER. You change TOGETHER.  You find this person, marry them or not, and you hold onto them and grow old with them TOGETHER.  No piece of paper is going to give you that.  That is just timing, maybe a little bit of blind wistfulness and a whole lotta faith. .....

What a difference a year makes....

This time last year, I had just (and I mean JUST) returned from a week in Europe with my gay uncle, first class thanks to his Platinum Sky Miles partner.  It was an amazing week that words can not even describe! We had the best time ever. In the back of my mind, however, there loomed a darkening shadow of doubt and dread. I had not spoken more than a few words to my husband the day I left for Europe.  We did not talk the entire week I was gone. I had gone back and forth trying to decide the best thing for me and my children in the weeks before the trip. And I decided upon pulling out of my driveway, that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and I was not going to screw it up by worrying about HIM. So I didn't. Yes, I felt a twinge here and there through out the trip.  Yes, I was disappointed when I checked my email to find NOTHING from him. But it was not totally unexpected. Even the flight back home was unencumbered by the dread. I still remember the mimosas and warm mixed nuts, the TV shows and movies. I did not dare sleep on either the trip there or back because when in the WORLD would I ever be flying first class EVER again? I wanted to savor every minute of it.  Once I was back in my car, though, the dread set in heavily and hastily.  I drove home not knowing what to expect. I don't even remember coming home really except that it was late and I did not really speak to anyone. I showered and crawled into bed with my pups and went to sleep. The next morning, Friday, March 27, 2009, I got up to get my stepdaughter off to school.  She saw me, and did not speak.  I knew then that things were over, I just did not want to admit it. He and I talked that night and agreed that we needed a month or two apart to get the kids back in line. My children resented him for his temper and favoritism to his own children. His children resented me because I expected them to act like human beings and not heathens. We cried, we had sex, we slept. The next day we went to town and bought some things that I would need to start my own household. It should have been a huge flashing neon sign to me that i was excited! We started getting things set up and I spent the night at my old house one last time. True to form, he sat on the couch, watching TV and playing on the computer until after midnight (PATTERN) and I was asleep by the time he got into bed.  I never dreamed that the last time would have been the last time. But it was.  And the thought of him even touching me now makes me want to vomit! But within 48 hours of my return to the states, I had separated from my husband and was living with my children in my own home, just five or six houses down the road from him.  It was my conception, you understand, that this was a separation to get back on our feet. Within a week he told me he wanted a divorce. I analyzed and overanalyzed that seven days and what could have possibly changed his mind.  I gave every excuse from another woman, to his children to his homosexuality.  It was only in retrospect I was able to admit, for whatever reason, that maybe he was just happier without me. I was most certainly happier without him. I do not, even to this day, believe that at the core of the situation, he was happier without ME. That is just not plausible. (Hee hee). But happier without my rules binding his children? Most definitely. If there are no rules, there is no conflict. And this man is always happier with no conflict (unless I'm involved, apparently).  Happier without obligation and responsibility to another human being and/or children who were not biologically his? Absolutely.  And that's fine.  Sure, I struggle financially and I am struggling raising two teenage boys just in general.  God knows their biological father does not help (that's a whole-nother blog).  But at the end of the day, when everything is tallied up and accounted for...I am happier, so MUCH happier, on any given day, than I was one year ago today.  Am I stressed about court on Wednesday? Of course. Am I ready for things to be over with? You have no idea. Good, bad or ugly, I just want the closure. I can deal with no car, no insurance or whatever else I have to deal with but i cannot deal with the unknown.  Things were "unknown" and "uncertain" to me long before a year ago.  But this past year has been weighted down, even if slightly or abstractly, by the unknown.  And sure, I now have my own sew set of "unknowns" to deal with.  But I will deal with them. And I know that I am the person I am because of the things that life has thrown my way and trudged my way through and came out on the other side a better person. A stronger woman. Determined to be happy.  And being happy today...so much happier 365 days later, well.... that is a testament to the rest of my life. It can only get better from here!

The Countdown is on.....

Wednesday, I will be in court for my final divorce hearing. I have no idea what is going to happen. I do know that I got my hair cut and colored last weekend. I have to get a pedi and some new sandals. I am printing off papers and emails and taxes, etc.... these are the aforementioned ducks that I am getting in a row.  My head? My heart? Well, those I'm not sure about.  Let me be frank: I despise him to his core.  This does not, however, excuse any emotion I am trying to prepare myself to feel. He is a stupid summbitch (as we say here in the south) and I hope he chokes on a ham sandwich. Seriously.

I am trying to prepare myself for every scenerio which, i do realize, is impossible.  I have not physically seen him in a year. How do you spend ten years with someone and wake up one day and never see them again? This is what happened. And now i have to see him, face to face, in the same room, arguing over money which is so apropos because that's what we did most of the time anyway. This time, the judge will decide. And no matter how nervous I feel, I keep trying to remind myself that the outcome is what it is regardless of my level of anxiety or worry.

I saw the outline of him outside this weekend. I felt nothing. I miss my dog more than I miss him (the one who pees all over everything and I therefore lost custody of in the separation. He'd already peed all over everything at the old house.)  I miss my dog and I even sometimes miss my stepdaughter. Life is much less complicated nonetheless.

Wednesday is going to be about survival and dealing with whatever the judge rules. It could go in my favor, or not. Regardless, I have to do what I have to do to get by. And if I can't deal, well one very true friend will be there to hold me together, at least until I am out of his sight range.  I just worry about getting him out of hers: She'll be packing, and she'd shank him as readily as I would.

Turn in your man card....

This post.... is not so much about the current divorce as much as it is about the last divorce. My ex, the father of my children, is delusional.  He has no concept of children nor what it takes to raise them, emotionally or financially. Every scenario revolves around him, not our children. And everything is my fault, not his:  I think he is an ATM machine.  I don't force the children to love him.  I involve him in discipline and it backfires because he is no longer Disneyland Dad. Actually, I think more so than a Disneyland dad, he would, at best, be a clunky carnival in an abandoned parking lot dad. I have sat back and let him bully me and my children for twelve years. I have forced the children to go to his house in order to foster some semblance of an opportunity to have a relationship with him. But alas, they are fourteen and I no longer feel that I should force them. I have kept my mouth shut and let them form their own opinions. I never wanted them to NOT see him and then romanticize the potential relationship and blame me when it didn't pan out.  Regardless, i have filed papers with the court for contempt.  He owes me money. I need money. End of story. I don't care about his knee surgery, I don't care about his friend's surgery. I have problems of my own and my world DAMN sure doesn't stop when my friends' parents are in the hospital, or when my father finds out that yet another skin cancer has to be removed, or when I don't have money for groceries or electricity. I trudge through. I figure it out. When my kids need something, I come up with it, by the grace of God and no thanks to their father. And now he wants to lose it with me because i am asking for money that he owes me? I didn't file a Motion for Modification. I could. I could ask for more money. Best I can figure, he is paying about $200 less per month than required by law. But I said i would continue to settle for that amount. I don't ask for much and he's done even less. The gloves are off and I hope it doesn't bite me in the ass. I already have to fight STBX, might as well throw BabyDaddy in the mix as well. Bring it on, boys. It's time to step up to the plate and be a man, or turn in your man card altogether.

Ducks.....

Well here we are....twenty (20) days away from my final hearing in my divorce. I am pleased (oddly) to say that as of March 29th it will have been one year since I moved out.  Granted, at that point I was still under the impression that perhaps we were in a trial separation and would reconcile. It was a week, maybe two, later that I was informed, over the phone mind you, that he wanted a divorce.  Since I can't remember that exact date, we're just going to pretend that I knew the minute I left that it was over, thus the "healing" began.  So here we are, less than three weeks away from seeing him, hearing his voice, occupying the same room as him for the first time SINCE APRIL 2009.  That made me want to yak a little.  But I'm getting my ducks in a row. 

Outfit? Check.  Black silky pants, sexy yet tasteful red shirt, pointy low heeled shoes, subtle earrings. 

Hair? Check.  Appointment next Saturday for cut and color.  He has not seen me as a brunette and that in and of itself should be interesting.

Zannie? Check.  Got a new script for Klonopin yesterday.  I will be popping at least a half one of those beforehand. It's like a zannie, but it doesn't make me a total bitch the following day.  I haven't an ounce of guilt about self medicating on the way in. 

Make up? Check.  Will be up in the judge's secretary's office letting her touch it all up. 

I guess that's about it. Ducks should be at the very least close to being in a row.  If not, I'll snap them in line between now and then.  I started looking at pictures of him, just to acclimate myself to his stupid self again.  i look at old pictures and think "SERIOUSLY?????"  But that's a whole nother blog.  I am also preparing myself for his posse. I can see his parents, natural and step, all in tow. Brother? Maybe.  Girlfriend? Doubtful, if he has any part of a brain.  Regardless, white trash people tend to band together in a crisis, and the more drama, the more involved they are.  He may not have spoken to his mother for two years, but let something happen, and BAM! There she is, bleached blonde hair, black roots, no bra and polyester pants about an inch too short (at least he gets it honest). *(Editor's note: This is the same woman who stole groceries from us when she babysat....Nuff Said.) One bff has insisted she could be there. I would love it but hate for her to miss work. Also, a little afraid she'd shank him in the hallway. Regardless, I do not plan on having a cheering section.  Just me and my lawyer/boss. This may show more maturity. It may backfire. Who knows?  But in twenty short days, at the VERY least, the judge will rip the uncertainty from underneath me, even if judgment is not in my favor.  I may be fucked, I may walk out smelling like a rose.  Either way, I won't have to write his last name again.  And it will be less than three months from the court date until the end of this blog.  Somehow, having some certainty will at least let me know HOW i need to cope between now and then.  Until then, lemme gather the ducks and line them up. . . .

Progress?

So I have spent the last week thinking about my marriage (or lack thereof).  As the time passes, it becomes easier to live without him and to take his memory with a grain of salt. Is that right? Is that even what I meant to say??? Regardless, thinking about him, or even saying his name in reference to a past event is not really a BFD anymore. That's progress. 

It's also progress that, in the situation I am in now with NB, that I can reflect back on somethings that maybe I did wrong in the marriage.  I'm not admitting ANYTHING, but I can, in retrospect, see somethings that were whiny/bitchy/fussy/spoiled.  However, he knew these things about me BEFORE he married me.  I did NOT know about his anger/temper/lying when I married him.  So he knew I was w/b/f/s but married me in spite of that, probably thinking it was endearing in the beginning, then as the bitterness grew, I'll bet all that wasn't so cute anymore. Funny, I'm trying to remember what was endearing about him?!?!? Oh, yeah, he enabled my spoiledness.  Yeah, that's about it.  Nothing about him was endearing at the end. 

But what worries me ... is that i am exactly 3 months away from the end of this blog.  And yes, I have come a long way.  I was devastated in September when I started this, even more so in April before I ever dreamed of the blog.  And I'm doing okay.  But what did I mean to accomplish by this blog? And what if I have NOT accomplished it come June 3, 2010.   I guess in my heart I KNOW I have made enough progress to justify this blog and vice versa.  So at the core of the issue:  What if I show up in court on March 31st, seeing him for the first time in a YEAR, and I lose it? Or I backslide and lose a year of progress in one day? That's my concern. I don't know how to combat it. I don't know how to prepare for it any way other than how I already have. So what if it was all for naught? Well, I suppose I will do like every other time in my life and pull myself up by my bootstraps and trudge on through, starting over and working my way to a healing place. Just like I always have. I may not like it. I may not admit it. But I will survive it. And in the end, I suppose that is all that matters. At least, that's what Gloria Gaynor said.