So many people keep telling me how strong I am. Well, I'm not. Here's a perfect example:
Josh has been quite charming lately. He shows up on time, sober, and ready to help with is visits with the kiddos. He tells me how much he wants me, and how great I look. He alludes to how much he would love to soak in our bath tub (which I haven't had the gumption to use since he left), and how it would be way better if he weren't alone.
Tonight, I was ready to give in. Hell, I'm human, and it's been almost two months. I would LOVE the touch of another human being who frankly wasn't 2. So I asked him to stay, and made it pretty clear it would be worth his while.
However, after putting the boys down for the night, Josh BOLTED. He left before I was even finished rocking Sam. Gone.
I was confused, so I texted him saying, "Uh... bye?" He said he had to get home to take his meds and ice his neck. I believed him. Until I thought about it a little realized... he totally had a date. Mutherfucker had a date.
I feel like the biggest idiot EVER. Here I was, ready to give him the ultimate in marital comforts, and he not only lied to me but then left to see another woman. I honestly thought we were getting a little closer, maybe even approaching the idea of mending some fences.
I often blame being naive and expecting the best from people on being from Ohio. Midwesterners, on the whole, tend to be good, wholesome people who assume that people are good and wait to be proven otherwise. I guess my next question is how many times do I need to proven otherwise?
FML.
So I texted him the following (because he really has been in pain lately):
"...something to think about - if you have to have surgery again, who do you want there when you wake up? If we are going to divorce, I love you but I will not be there to take care of you."
I also told him that Will asked me tonight if Daddy left because he doesn't love us anymore. That was one of the more brutal questions I've had to answer in a LONG time.
So the answer is no, I'm not strong. I may be stronger tomorrow due to my (almost) weakness tonight, but overall I am not a strong person.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
We Destroy More Before 8 a.m. Than Most People Do All Day
Before 8 a.m. this morning, the following things happened:
1) DS1 set off the house alarm, while I was in the shower with soap in my hair. I had to get out, turn it off, and Google our alarm company to call them off since they still call "D"H and I knew he wouldn't answer the phone. Finally got them, they called off the police. Back in the shower until...
2) My phone rings again. It's only 6:30a, so I jump out with conditioner in my hair to answer it. Because of the alarm noise, our dog has jumped the fence and is two blocks away. Long blocks. Up hill. I throw on my hideous purple robe, and run barefoot to rescue the dog.
3) I arrive back at my house to find that DS1 has shut and locked the front door. He is now playing happily with his Buzz Lightyear. It takes him a good 5 minutes to finally come let me back in.
4) Back in the shower. Rinse. Phone rings again. REALLY? It's my mother. My cousin tried to kill herself last night by drinking a bottle of rubbing alcohol. She's probably going to be ok, but wow.
5) I hang up the phone with Mom after about five minutes and realize it's WAAAAYY too quiet. I go into DS2's room, where he and DS1 look really, really guilty. They've eaten an entire bottle of Hyland's teething tablets that DS1 retrieved via step stool from the very top of his dresser (no idea why I still had them). Hello, Poison Control? Luckily both PC and the manufacturer said they'd have to eat six bottles each to hurt themselves but still HOLY HELL.
6) I've had it. Everyone dressed, air-drying my hair, slam down some waffles with peanut butter for breakfast, they actually eat which is a miracle, out the door to the car and.... the sprinklers are on, which is way too much for a 2-year-old to resist. Back inside, new outfit for DS2, back to the car, STRAP THEM IN and off we went.
I can laugh now, but only sort-of, because it's now almost 10:30a and "D"H still hasn't answered any text messages which means the f*cker is still asleep.
1) DS1 set off the house alarm, while I was in the shower with soap in my hair. I had to get out, turn it off, and Google our alarm company to call them off since they still call "D"H and I knew he wouldn't answer the phone. Finally got them, they called off the police. Back in the shower until...
2) My phone rings again. It's only 6:30a, so I jump out with conditioner in my hair to answer it. Because of the alarm noise, our dog has jumped the fence and is two blocks away. Long blocks. Up hill. I throw on my hideous purple robe, and run barefoot to rescue the dog.
3) I arrive back at my house to find that DS1 has shut and locked the front door. He is now playing happily with his Buzz Lightyear. It takes him a good 5 minutes to finally come let me back in.
4) Back in the shower. Rinse. Phone rings again. REALLY? It's my mother. My cousin tried to kill herself last night by drinking a bottle of rubbing alcohol. She's probably going to be ok, but wow.
5) I hang up the phone with Mom after about five minutes and realize it's WAAAAYY too quiet. I go into DS2's room, where he and DS1 look really, really guilty. They've eaten an entire bottle of Hyland's teething tablets that DS1 retrieved via step stool from the very top of his dresser (no idea why I still had them). Hello, Poison Control? Luckily both PC and the manufacturer said they'd have to eat six bottles each to hurt themselves but still HOLY HELL.
6) I've had it. Everyone dressed, air-drying my hair, slam down some waffles with peanut butter for breakfast, they actually eat which is a miracle, out the door to the car and.... the sprinklers are on, which is way too much for a 2-year-old to resist. Back inside, new outfit for DS2, back to the car, STRAP THEM IN and off we went.
I can laugh now, but only sort-of, because it's now almost 10:30a and "D"H still hasn't answered any text messages which means the f*cker is still asleep.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
May 19th - Present: CEO, My House
It's a little embarrassing to admit it, but being on my own has been a bit empowering. The reason it's embarrassing is it's not like I was a child bride. I met J when I was 30 and married when I was 32. It's not like I hadn't lived on my own - I had. But I am realizing I'd never lived like an ADULT on my own.
Maybe it's because I was never responsible for more than a couple of cats and a poorly (read: not at all) trained rescue Lab. So if the dishes piled in the sink for a few weeks, no one noticed and it really didn't matter. Laundry was optional, and household repairs were nearly unthinkable. I think I assumed, and mostly correctly so, that eventually someone else would come take care of it. Or I'd get a wild hair and put six months' worth of clothes away in one evening. But if I didn't, it didn't really matter.
Now I am facing the cold, hard facts that I'm a) not living alone; b) responsible for the well-being of two HUMANS, plus two dogs and a cat; and c) not getting any kind of bail out anytime soon. Mom was here for a couple of weeks and was truly a wonderful help, but the reality that I'm going to have to live with from now on is that I am responsible.
I can't believe that at age 38 this is the first time I'm coming to this realization. If I don't do it, it isn't going to get done.
This isn't a giant shift in reality, but it is a giant shift in my perspective. When J was living here, I expected him to do things around the house. But he didn't. So they didn't get done. I am now realizing how little he did do in the last few (SIX) years. He always convinced me that I was the less domestic one, but he was the one who worked 2 years out of 6 and yet managed to never even set up the plastic play structure in the backyard, instead leaving it in a very white-trash-looking pile against the fence, along with the dog poop he never scooped and random vegetables he threw in our yard like it was going to magically transform into a compost pile.
But now I can't bitch. If I don't do it, it isn't going to get done. If I don't brush the boys' teeth, they aren't going to get brushed. If I don't tackle that giant pile of clothes next to my bed, it's going to continue to grow until it eventually sucks me into it.
And the amazing thing is, I've actually accomplished more since assuming my new title on May 19th than I ever did when I had a partner in running our household. There are no dishes in the sink. The laundry is done and folded. I cooked spicy tofu and carrots for dinner. Lunches are made the night before every.single.day. And the play structure is built - it took Mom and I three tries, but dammit it's up and the boys love it.
I feel so accountable, so responsible, and it feels good.
Maybe it's because I was never responsible for more than a couple of cats and a poorly (read: not at all) trained rescue Lab. So if the dishes piled in the sink for a few weeks, no one noticed and it really didn't matter. Laundry was optional, and household repairs were nearly unthinkable. I think I assumed, and mostly correctly so, that eventually someone else would come take care of it. Or I'd get a wild hair and put six months' worth of clothes away in one evening. But if I didn't, it didn't really matter.
Now I am facing the cold, hard facts that I'm a) not living alone; b) responsible for the well-being of two HUMANS, plus two dogs and a cat; and c) not getting any kind of bail out anytime soon. Mom was here for a couple of weeks and was truly a wonderful help, but the reality that I'm going to have to live with from now on is that I am responsible.
I can't believe that at age 38 this is the first time I'm coming to this realization. If I don't do it, it isn't going to get done.
This isn't a giant shift in reality, but it is a giant shift in my perspective. When J was living here, I expected him to do things around the house. But he didn't. So they didn't get done. I am now realizing how little he did do in the last few (SIX) years. He always convinced me that I was the less domestic one, but he was the one who worked 2 years out of 6 and yet managed to never even set up the plastic play structure in the backyard, instead leaving it in a very white-trash-looking pile against the fence, along with the dog poop he never scooped and random vegetables he threw in our yard like it was going to magically transform into a compost pile.
But now I can't bitch. If I don't do it, it isn't going to get done. If I don't brush the boys' teeth, they aren't going to get brushed. If I don't tackle that giant pile of clothes next to my bed, it's going to continue to grow until it eventually sucks me into it.
And the amazing thing is, I've actually accomplished more since assuming my new title on May 19th than I ever did when I had a partner in running our household. There are no dishes in the sink. The laundry is done and folded. I cooked spicy tofu and carrots for dinner. Lunches are made the night before every.single.day. And the play structure is built - it took Mom and I three tries, but dammit it's up and the boys love it.
I feel so accountable, so responsible, and it feels good.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Graduation
It's that time of year, when we are inundated with messages for those who are making transitions in their lives. Namely, graduation. Every year I end up seeing snippets of some of the most humorous or profound speeches, and usually they have lots to do with following your dreams and never giving up, etc.
This year, I've seen two speeches, and they were both quite different. They were about what happens when you, God forbid, FAIL. What happens when life doesn't turn out exactly how you thought it would. These are pretty heavy thoughts for young, idealistic folks to digest, but so unbelievably relevant to where I am right now.
The first speech was given by 18-year-old Flora Morofsky, our long-time babysitter and one of the brightest, most wonderful young women I've ever met. She is just a good girl. If I had a daughter, I would hope, beg and pray that she turned out like Flora. Having said that, I hope she parties like a rock star at UCSB.
In her speech, she talked about that "defining moment" when she found out she had been denied at what she thought was her dream college. She talked about how she ultimately believes she will be attending a much better school, and though it was difficult for her to think about "Plan B," she now looks forward to it. I have a feeling she's right - her first school was very trade-focused, and I have a feeling her plans for her career may change in the next four years (I thought I wanted to be a Psychology major!).
She said our lives are defined by how we choose to respond to these "defining moments" - how we move forward when things don't go as planned.
The second speech was Conan O'Brian's speech to the Dartmouth Class of 2011. I watched on youtube after several recommendations on Facebook. Conan spoke very frankly about his "failure" as host of The Tonight Show. He said twelve years ago he'd told Harvard Grads "Don't fear failure," but now he takes it one step further - Failure will happen. It's all about what you do with it. It's ok for your dreams and your life to change, and often it provides the best opportunities that we would not have had if things had gone how we'd "planned."
A few Conan quotes that really hit home:
"There are few things more liberating in life than having your worst fear realized."
"It is our failure to become our perceived ideal that ultimately defines us."
"Your perceived failure can become a catalyst for profound reinvention."
The failure of my marriage is probably going to end up being (I hope) the biggest failure of my life. It's very fresh, very new, and so I'm not going to pretend that I'm doing great things with my new-found life. I'm grieving. This sucks. But I'm hoping that, as life is giving me the proverbial lemons, I can choose not to squeeze them onto my paper cuts, and instead make an absolutely phenomenal Lemon Drop.
This year, I've seen two speeches, and they were both quite different. They were about what happens when you, God forbid, FAIL. What happens when life doesn't turn out exactly how you thought it would. These are pretty heavy thoughts for young, idealistic folks to digest, but so unbelievably relevant to where I am right now.
The first speech was given by 18-year-old Flora Morofsky, our long-time babysitter and one of the brightest, most wonderful young women I've ever met. She is just a good girl. If I had a daughter, I would hope, beg and pray that she turned out like Flora. Having said that, I hope she parties like a rock star at UCSB.
In her speech, she talked about that "defining moment" when she found out she had been denied at what she thought was her dream college. She talked about how she ultimately believes she will be attending a much better school, and though it was difficult for her to think about "Plan B," she now looks forward to it. I have a feeling she's right - her first school was very trade-focused, and I have a feeling her plans for her career may change in the next four years (I thought I wanted to be a Psychology major!).
She said our lives are defined by how we choose to respond to these "defining moments" - how we move forward when things don't go as planned.
The second speech was Conan O'Brian's speech to the Dartmouth Class of 2011. I watched on youtube after several recommendations on Facebook. Conan spoke very frankly about his "failure" as host of The Tonight Show. He said twelve years ago he'd told Harvard Grads "Don't fear failure," but now he takes it one step further - Failure will happen. It's all about what you do with it. It's ok for your dreams and your life to change, and often it provides the best opportunities that we would not have had if things had gone how we'd "planned."
A few Conan quotes that really hit home:
"There are few things more liberating in life than having your worst fear realized."
"It is our failure to become our perceived ideal that ultimately defines us."
"Your perceived failure can become a catalyst for profound reinvention."
The failure of my marriage is probably going to end up being (I hope) the biggest failure of my life. It's very fresh, very new, and so I'm not going to pretend that I'm doing great things with my new-found life. I'm grieving. This sucks. But I'm hoping that, as life is giving me the proverbial lemons, I can choose not to squeeze them onto my paper cuts, and instead make an absolutely phenomenal Lemon Drop.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Confirmation
So... tonight he accidentally texted me instead of the other woman. All the message said was, "Hey that was fun thanks! I made it to the fwy" but it was enough to confirm to me that he is seeing another (several other?) woman.
Even though I'd had my suspicions, and had confirmed them with a friend sighting, it still REALLY hurt. For so many reasons:
- He really is dating. I know he'd use another word for it, but that's what it is. Dating. Less than a month after our separation after EIGHT years and two children together.
- He really is a liar. He told me with a straight face on Thursday night that he wasn't going to see other women because he needed to focus on himself. It didn't sit right with me at the time, so I left. Now I know why.
- I think it's really, for sure, OVER. Friends and relatives (Mom) would have told me this a few weeks ago. But I'd always said if he cheated on me, it was over, and now apparently, blatantly, clearly and irrefutably, it's over.
I texted him tonight saying how painful this all is, and he again said he hasn't been cheating. It's amazing to me that his definition of cheating is so limited, so narrow. I know because of his Dad's infidelities that DH is very much opposed to the word, but I told him tonight that if he's been seeing other women, he's been cheating.
I just hope i haven't just given him the permission to go fuck them all, but in reality he probably didn't need it.
I just hate that it's Saturday night and I'm sitting home alone, watching his children, taking care of his animals, and he's out.
Is it bad that I wish he would just go away?
Even though I'd had my suspicions, and had confirmed them with a friend sighting, it still REALLY hurt. For so many reasons:
- He really is dating. I know he'd use another word for it, but that's what it is. Dating. Less than a month after our separation after EIGHT years and two children together.
- He really is a liar. He told me with a straight face on Thursday night that he wasn't going to see other women because he needed to focus on himself. It didn't sit right with me at the time, so I left. Now I know why.
- I think it's really, for sure, OVER. Friends and relatives (Mom) would have told me this a few weeks ago. But I'd always said if he cheated on me, it was over, and now apparently, blatantly, clearly and irrefutably, it's over.
I texted him tonight saying how painful this all is, and he again said he hasn't been cheating. It's amazing to me that his definition of cheating is so limited, so narrow. I know because of his Dad's infidelities that DH is very much opposed to the word, but I told him tonight that if he's been seeing other women, he's been cheating.
I just hope i haven't just given him the permission to go fuck them all, but in reality he probably didn't need it.
I just hate that it's Saturday night and I'm sitting home alone, watching his children, taking care of his animals, and he's out.
Is it bad that I wish he would just go away?
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Strength
Last weekend, I asked DH if he would be willing to enter an inpatient treatment program to address his issues with addiction. I by no means think this is the ultimate solution, but I do think it would be an excellent opportunity for him to completely unplug and focus on himself.
At first, he said he didn't need it and didn't have a problem. By the end of our conversation, though, he said he would consider it.
After his therapy appointment on Wednesday, DH said he had some insights and wanted to talk to me about them. I was cautiously optimistic, but still guarded when we met.
Essentially, he wanted to tell me that he didn't need treatment. That he doesn't have a problem. That he needs to figure this all out by himself. He said even our therapist agreed that inpatient treatment wouldn't help him at this point.
I then asked him if he was going to continue to date. He said absolutely not. He said he'd never cheated. He said he hadn't even kissed another woman.
I looked at him. The way he couldn't maintain eye contact with me. The way he kept shifting in his chair. I reminded myself that I know him better than ANYONE else in the world. And I stood up and left.
I told him very calmly that I was leaving. It was not a good use of either of our time for me to sit and listen to him lie. That there was no reason for us to have any contact at all as long as he can't be honest with me. He at least owes me that much.
It felt great. Scary, but great. I was basing my conclusions on no real evidence, but I know I'm right - he is lying. And I have SO many better things I should be doing with my precious time than listening to him shovel his bullshit.
He was shocked, and I understand why. It's never been in my nature to be that direct.
That made it feel even better.
So on Facebook last week someone posted about "Take No Shit" day and I RSVP'd. I think from now on, when it comes to DH, every day is going to be "Take No Shit" Day. No reason at all for it to be otherwise.
At first, he said he didn't need it and didn't have a problem. By the end of our conversation, though, he said he would consider it.
After his therapy appointment on Wednesday, DH said he had some insights and wanted to talk to me about them. I was cautiously optimistic, but still guarded when we met.
Essentially, he wanted to tell me that he didn't need treatment. That he doesn't have a problem. That he needs to figure this all out by himself. He said even our therapist agreed that inpatient treatment wouldn't help him at this point.
I then asked him if he was going to continue to date. He said absolutely not. He said he'd never cheated. He said he hadn't even kissed another woman.
I looked at him. The way he couldn't maintain eye contact with me. The way he kept shifting in his chair. I reminded myself that I know him better than ANYONE else in the world. And I stood up and left.
I told him very calmly that I was leaving. It was not a good use of either of our time for me to sit and listen to him lie. That there was no reason for us to have any contact at all as long as he can't be honest with me. He at least owes me that much.
It felt great. Scary, but great. I was basing my conclusions on no real evidence, but I know I'm right - he is lying. And I have SO many better things I should be doing with my precious time than listening to him shovel his bullshit.
He was shocked, and I understand why. It's never been in my nature to be that direct.
That made it feel even better.
So on Facebook last week someone posted about "Take No Shit" day and I RSVP'd. I think from now on, when it comes to DH, every day is going to be "Take No Shit" Day. No reason at all for it to be otherwise.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
More Updates
Well, it's been a crazy, heartbreaking, soul-crushing and yet somehow empowering few weeks. As of tomorrow, H and I will have been separated for four weeks. He has an apartment, but otherwise has done absolutely nothing to try to 1) address his substance abuse problems or 2) try to save our marriage. In fact he's...dating. Eight years together and six years of marriage, and H is throwing it all away for women he's meeting on sex websites. It's unbelievable.
Last Friday he said he wanted a divorce because he's "lost" and needs to figure out who he is (keep in mind he's 41, not 18). I told him no, that I wouldn't make things easy for him, that if he wanted a divorce he was going to have to file because I wouldn't. He thinks he can end our marriage, see the boys whenever he wants to, and have his man-whore-like social life. I refuse to make that easy for him.
But at the same time, I think I’m done. He’s run through all of our savings in the last few weeks despite my repeated pleas to watch his spending. He’s lied to me – said he’s not drinking at all but I know he is, said he’s never cheated on me but I know he has. He’s done nothing to find a job, get any kind of treatment, or really do anything other than meet other women and complain about how little he sees the boys.
For now, I’m still only letting him see the boys on a supervised basis, in large part because I don’t trust him to be sober. He keeps complaining that I can’t keep them from him, but for now I think that’s best for everyone.
The boys seem to be doing really well. I finally had to sit down with a tearful Will last night and tell him that I don’t know when Daddy will be coming home, but for now he has his own apartment and maybe we can go see it someday.
I’m doing ok too. Some days are ok, some days are worse. I hate the thought of what the rest of our lives look like, particularly when I think about the fact that I might not get to spend Christmas with my boys every year, we’ll never go on that family camping trip, I’ll always have to worry about whether H is sober enough to take care of them and then fight him when he’s not… I’ve had a knot in my stomach all day, every day for the past four weeks. My mom has been here for a week and a half and will have to leave on Saturday, so I have no idea what I’m going to do after that.
Just wanted to keep you all updated. Sorry this turned into a novel!
Last Friday he said he wanted a divorce because he's "lost" and needs to figure out who he is (keep in mind he's 41, not 18). I told him no, that I wouldn't make things easy for him, that if he wanted a divorce he was going to have to file because I wouldn't. He thinks he can end our marriage, see the boys whenever he wants to, and have his man-whore-like social life. I refuse to make that easy for him.
But at the same time, I think I’m done. He’s run through all of our savings in the last few weeks despite my repeated pleas to watch his spending. He’s lied to me – said he’s not drinking at all but I know he is, said he’s never cheated on me but I know he has. He’s done nothing to find a job, get any kind of treatment, or really do anything other than meet other women and complain about how little he sees the boys.
For now, I’m still only letting him see the boys on a supervised basis, in large part because I don’t trust him to be sober. He keeps complaining that I can’t keep them from him, but for now I think that’s best for everyone.
The boys seem to be doing really well. I finally had to sit down with a tearful Will last night and tell him that I don’t know when Daddy will be coming home, but for now he has his own apartment and maybe we can go see it someday.
I’m doing ok too. Some days are ok, some days are worse. I hate the thought of what the rest of our lives look like, particularly when I think about the fact that I might not get to spend Christmas with my boys every year, we’ll never go on that family camping trip, I’ll always have to worry about whether H is sober enough to take care of them and then fight him when he’s not… I’ve had a knot in my stomach all day, every day for the past four weeks. My mom has been here for a week and a half and will have to leave on Saturday, so I have no idea what I’m going to do after that.
Just wanted to keep you all updated. Sorry this turned into a novel!
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