Progress

Mediation went surprisingly well - Bryan gave me more child support than I asked for.

Amazing.

We are early in the process, and things will undoubtedly change, but we are making it clear with one another that we intend to be fair, that will will be Katherine-focused, and that we want what the mediator called a "durable" agreement, one that will look just as good a year or more from now as it does when we sign it.  I'm trying to be really pragmatic about this, non-emotional and thoughtful.

Several friends and family members have noticed that Bryan seems happier than he has in ages.  Though I joked with a friend, "If he starts traveling the world with a hot girlfriend and comes home to a newly remodeled place with a view and I'm struggling as a single mom and my dishwasher is broken, I may not be totally graceful about that...." I really do want him to be happy, and it is a giant relief to see that he might actually be feeling hopeful about his own future.

I never wanted to go down in history as the woman who ruined his life, even if that was only in his own imagination.  On my good days, I hope that our divorce frees each of us to be the person we were intended to be, and that we will both reach our full potential when we are separate in a way that we couldn't do together.  On my good days, I think he will be happy, and I will see his eyes twinkle again, and that feels like a burden lifted from me.

So, rushing around trying to get things ready for the big move.  An extra set of sheets, another broom, a lot of organizing.  Additional chaos at home, but I've taken the next week off work to be with Katherine and to do some serious nesting at home, to get our lives in order.

And I'm obsessively budgeting in Excel.

And I'm trying to plan an amazing road trip with Katherine for August, within that budget, because we need the wind in our hair and we need to explore the world.

I will help with the move on Saturday, and then in the evening I will have a couple very close girlfriends over to help me to either celebrate, cry, or both.  The plan is for wine, cheese, and chocolate.  They will know how to reach me, no matter what I'm feeling, and I take great comfort in knowing that my first night alone will be filled with laughter, even if there will be tears.

This is my new life.  I will make the most of it.  I still feel low energy but I also feel hopeful.  Getting closer!

Almost time

First of all, thank you so much to those of you who reached out to ask me to keep blogging.  I received emails as well as comments, and your words have moved me to tears.  I am so grateful for your support and kindness, and you are appreciated.  I am filled with gratitude.

I will keep blogging.  I will try to be thoughtful in my choices, to be respectful, but also to be truthful, and to share not only my PollyAnna optimism - which is very real, and a deep part of me - but also my fears and struggles, because it would be simplistic to think that I could get through this without them.

My goal is to live my life with integrity and compassion, towards myself as well as others.  I'd like the blog to reflect that, although it is a lofty goal, and one that I may not always reach.

To those of you who have encouraged me in that direction, again, I say thank you.  I am grateful.

*****

This is the week, and I am days away from Bryan moving out.

He has not packed one box.

I have Thursday and Friday off work, and I am prepared to run around getting boxes and packing materials, and filling in my own gaps for the house.  I will be in charge of Katherine, too, and I am fearful that I won't know how to give her what she needs, because I am feeling very self absorbed right now, and very quiet.  My brain is awash in fear - no, not quite fear, more like anxiety.  There is so much going on, and I am fighting for my Zen house, not this house of chaos, but I feel low energy, and anxious, and I really do wish I could go to bed and wake up when it's all done.

I will rent a carpet cleaner for Sunday, and I will spend at least two hours cleaning his bathroom on Sunday.  Yuck.  No wonder I want to fast forward until next week!  Plus, moving is stressful under any circumstances, but this move is so disorganized, and he hasn't asked anyone to help, and I'll be his main person helping, which will likely lead to frayed tempers on both sides.  I have promised myself to be perky and focused on Katherine and to do whatever it takes to get the job done....but I'm so scared of the whole business, because it's so much work and so stressful.

I've been focused on "stuff" this week in a way that surprises me, but today I think I realized that I'm focusing on stuff, not emotions, because it's tangible.  I can't control how this move goes, and if it's a disaster, then it's his disaster, and he is responsible, because I am not in charge of him, the move, or how he handles things.  So, I've transferred some nervous energy into silly things - will there be enough bedside lamps to go around?  What will I use as a bedside table in the guest room?  I need to get Katherine a bookcase!  I must have a toaster!  (Not of the $10,000 variety, either.)  Now, I probably make toast once a month, so obsessing about a toaster is....odd, to say the least.  But somehow I've found myself worrying about little things like that, knowing full well that if Katherine has stacks of books in her room for a few weeks she wouldn't care, and that if we can't make toast it doesn't matter, but I've been focusing on things like that anyway.

Today is Tuesday.  He's supposed to move on Saturday.  It's going to be a long week.

And my body is responding by my face breaking out (seriously?!) and my arm lymphadema flaring up; my arm isn't swollen but it's throbbing, which is the precurser to swelling for me.  Damnit.

I don't have anything wise to say today.  Today is not a day for deep introspection, or for lessons, or for humor, or for wisdom.  Today, and this week, I just want to do what must be done to get through to the other side.  And I want to get out of my own head enough to be a great mom, not merely a sufficient one (which is how I feel right now).

Thank you for your continued thoughts and prayers.

Anonymity, Online dating, Moving, Money

I have a lot on my mind this week.  The worries make me dizzy.

A friend let slip about my blog, and about my Match.com profile, accidentally outing me to a dozen people.  Bryan doesn't know about either the blog or my desire to date (though he must wonder), and I'm filled with fear of him finding out about either the blog or dating, because I'm working so hard at maintaining civility with him, and I don't want to jeopardize that.

It's made me wonder: should I keep a blog?  Am I really doing this with integrity?  Is this a healthy place to vent where nobody gets hurt, or am I just airing my dirty laundry in public?  Do I offer a service to other women going through divorce by sharing my story, or is it self-indulgent?  How does one walk that line?  (Advice on this always appreciated.)

I do know that I love blogging here, that I enjoy the feedback immensely, that I feel so much less alone when others share their stories.  However, today I'm wondering what to do.

And I'm realizing that I threw away $50 that would have been better spent elsewhere (even on a new pair of shoes) than on Match.com, because I am just not ready to date.  I'm too tired to be vivacious right now, I have too many worries to think about flirting, and even if I was filled with energy and desire to flirt, I just don't have time.  Work is busy, my home needs a lot of work, I really want to connect with girlfriends in my down time, and Katherine needs and deserves most of my attention (and I want to give it to her).  I had a vision of walking down a boardwalk, sipping an iced coffee, wearing a pretty sundress, and flirting with a tall handsome man, passing away part of the summer....but I realize that instead, I want to walk down the boardwalk with Katherine and our dog, that I want to eat ice cream with her, and then swim in the ocean with her, and not care about anyone else in the world, or how witty I am, or making a good impression.  The time will come to date, but I'm not there.  (sigh)  I think I was trigger happy - I was lonely, and jealous of my happy friends, and wishing for quick fixes, but I know that will not get me where I want to go.  I need to work on myself right now, not dating.  (another sigh)

And yesterday I spent the day with my inlaws - all thirty or so of them, including brother and sister in laws, nieces, nephews, etc.  There was a family wedding, and they made sure I was included.  When it was time for a family photo, I panicked - what should I do?  I was prepared to bow out gracefully with a smile, but they ushered me over and told me that was nonsense, family was forever, come on over.  Bryan, Katherine and I stood together in the group, family.  This small moment blows my mind; it is what I want for Katherine, but so awkward and strange that I barely know what to think.

But these things are far overshadowed by the fact that this time next week Bryan should be moved out.  I will really be in the next phase of life, the one I've been preparing for all year.  Katherine will have two homes, and she will officially be the product of a broken home.  (An expression I loathe, for many reasons, but there it is.)  I will lose control over parts of her life that I currently have control over.

I will have two weekends a month by myself in this house, as well as Wednesday nights.  When I come home from something on one of those days, I will not be greeted by Katherine asking for a snack or a bedtime story while Bryan does something else by himself.  I will both love the downtime and hate that I am not there for her.  I will try to focus on taking care of myself, and giving her space to develop her relationship with her father, instead of the emptiness of her room, just down the hall from mine.

This week, either Bryan will pack himself, or I'll pack him, but either way, he's moving next weekend.

Please pray for us, keep good thoughts for us, hold us in the light, wish on shooting stars for us.  Hope that I can keep biting my tongue, that we can do this move smoothly, that Katherine can feel some enthusiasm for having two rooms, for a bit of independence walking back and forth, for the cell phone she's about to receive so that she can talk to whichever parent she is not with.  Please hope that Bryan will embrace his new location, finding some of his lost passion for living, that he can be the person he wishes to be.  Please hope that Katherine feels loved, and safe, and hopeful.  Please hope that I will behave with wisdom and integrity, and that I will find the strength and energy to craft the best possible life for Katherine and myself.  Please hope that many beautiful things come out of this change in our lives, and that the beauty that follows overshadows the grief at what is lost.

It all comes down to this.  Two homes, the end of an era, a change for all of us.  I am allowing myself to grieve, and still trying to focus on the good that lies ahead.

And money.  Oh, Dear God, the money.  I'm working on spreadsheets, playing the numbers, trying to figure out how to survive.....and I want to thrive, not only survive, and I have to figure that out.  It makes my head hurt. 

We have a meeting with a mediator tomorrow.

Thank you for your support this week, more than ever before, because I need it.

A good divorce?

Two posts in one day, because it's Sunday morning and Katherine is at a sleepover and I woke up early, and so I have time to think, uninterrupted, which is a form of bliss.  Hello again!

I've mentioned Constance Ahrons' book The Good Divorce on this blog before.  If you are contemplating divorce, if you're in the middle of divorce, or if you're already divorced, and you have kids, this is the book to read.  The book outlines ways parents can approach divorce in the least-damaging ways possible for their children.  It's not a divorce law book, it's not a dating guidebook, it's not a justification for divorce book.  This is a book about parenting through divorce, and helping kids, and I think it's thoughtful and wise.



Notice that I said least-damaging, not blissful.  The book doesn't pretend that everything about divorce is wonderful and that the children will come out scott-free.  Instead, Ahrons paves the way for approaches to divorce that make the best out of a bad situation.  The general premise is that parental behavior impacts children as much or more than the divorce itself, and Ahrons suggests ways parents should behave in divorce.

I've taken the philosophies of this book to heart, and I'm doing my utmost to model my divorce on Ahrons' suggestions.  No matter what Bryan does, or how he behaves, I am in control of my own responses, and I am aware that anything that I can do to lower conflict between Bryan and myself will positively impact Katherine.


I bite my tongue a lot.
(Do not Google images of biting your tongue.  Gross.)

I think my tongue is covered in deep welts and scars, actually.  When Bryan told me on Friday night that he was too tired to help Katherine with her bedtime ritual and he was going to bed, I smiled at Katherine and said, "Get in your PJs so we can read stories," instead of snapping at him that he hardly spends any time with his girl and I've had a hard week too....although that is what I deeply wished to say.

And it's paying off.  I can not believe how much, but it's paying off!

Katherine is doing better through all of this than I even dreamed possible.  When she found out that her dad had commited to an apartment, I held my breath, fearful that this new stage of reality would freak her out, but instead, she seemed to experience actual joy.  I stared at her for a moment, I was so surprised by her response, but I think I get it now. 

Katherine is doing okay because Bryan and I have followed through on our commitment to make this work for her. 

The apartment is two blocks away, walking distance for a nine year old, and we've promised that she can go back and forth as she pleases, regardless of whose "day" it is.  When Bryan announced he'd booked it, I immediately said, "Oh, I'm so glad it's so close!" and smiled at Katherine.  Various people have said, "Ugh don't you want more space between you?" and while there is a part of me that feels that way, I mostly feel genuine enthusiasm for its proximity, knowing how nice it will be for her to just pop over to see her dad, or to come back here to get a favorite shirt or toy.

When Katherine was in a little play at church (ironically, about responding to change) last week, it was on "my" weekend, but I made sure that Bryan was invited, and we sat together to cheer her on.  My mom came, too, and afterwards she invited all of us, Bryan included, to lunch.  We all went, and we played nice.

Katherine doesn't say anything about it, but she sees it.  And she MUST notice how the tension is falling around here.  The tension is less than it was when Bryan and I were actively trying to stay married, as a matter of fact.

I'm packing all of Bryan's household stuff; he can't appear to get off his duff to do it, and I'd rather do it an hour here and an hour there than all in one mad rush (I really do dislike chaos).  And I've refrained from badgering him about it, and I've actually been pretty pleasant to him, despite the fact that it's a royal pain, and blatantly unfair (I have my own massive to-do list, and I'm doing his, too).  Katherine sees this, and I think she notices.

The funny thing is, Bryan is noticing too.  He has been much more pleasant to be around lately, and he has snapped at me much less than usual.  The tension is so much less, I actually told my mother "I think I like Bryan more now than I have in five years!"

Make no mistake: this is not a like of the "maybe we can make it work" variety.  Actually, the thing that makes it easiest for me to like Bryan right now is the idea that I no longer have to be married to him.  His problems are no longer my problems: I do not have to care about his mood swings, or his laziness, or the fact that he expects me to pick up his slack.  He has lost most of his ability to hurt me.  When there is some emotional distance, I simply don't care what he does, because it doesn't impact me nearly as much, and I'm not invested in making him be the kind of person I'd want to partner with.  We have little in common, but it doesn't matter any more.  We are not partners any more, and this frees me to like him in a casual way, from a distance.

What Katherine will see is that I will buy him a housewarming present.  She will see that I will help him move.  She will see that I bought him a nice Father's Day card.  She will see that I am not arguing about possessions - I would honestly rather give him every last stick of furniture than fight any more, and fortunately he's not choosing to fight over "stuff," either.  She will see us side by side, cheering for her.

I have coached my friends and family to accept him, too.  I have called them and told them that they have my explicit permission to socialize with him, to call him, to support him, because he's Katherine's dad, and excluding him would exclude her.  I have asked my family to include him in holiday events, because it's good for Katherine.

If we did not have a child, I would try to divorce on a handshake and walk away, possibly never seeing him ever again.  I've got anger and sadness in spades, and I'm not confused by that....I do not always feel Zen about our divorce.  But we do have a child, and that makes us a family, and family is forever.  Our marriage is over, but our family is not.

And it's working.  Katherine is doing better than I could have dreamed.  Her grades are higher than ever, and she's become an amazing reader.  Her counselor has said we can scale back on sessions because she's doing so well.  She's doing well with her friendships.  She's sleeping well - not too much or too little.  With the notable exception of the one giant fit (blogged earlier), her behavior is utterly normal.

My life is complicated, and I struggle daily.  Being a single working mother is exhausting, and the financial ramifications of this make my head hurt.  I have no idea what the future will bring, and while I'm filled with hope, I also have fear.

But maybe I will get my good divorce.  Divorce was not my dream, but as divorces go, maybe I can make this one as good as they come.

Nesting

I am a nester.  My home is truly my sanctuary, and no matter how much I like flitting around in the big wide world, I'm always glad to come home.  At the end of an adventure - be that travel or simply a workday - I love walking up my front steps and coming into the familiar that is my home nest.

Which means that things have been a bit taxing lately.


I have a rather large desire for calm in my life.  Given that life is usually more chaotic than calm - deadlines! school projects! sickness! - I have always carved out time to come home and just "be" in my home.  Out in the world, people blow smoke as I walk down the street, and there are car horns, and there is so much rushing about, but in my own small sanctuary there are dishes lined up neatly in the cupboard and a pretty quilt on the bed and that little piece of art that I just love so much, and these small things add up to an oasis that I depend upon to keep my sanity.

Splitting up our house and its oasis-qualities is messing with my sanity.

Right now, things are in piles.  There is giant pile in the basement of kitchen items ready for Bryan to pack.  There are stacks of framed pictures.  There's an extra dresser, picked up for a song from Craigslist, halfway blocking a hallway.  There are half empty cupboards in spots.

Not cozy.  Not Zen.  Not an oasis.

Yesterday, I spent most of the day dealing with beds.  Bryan loves the style of "our" bedset, and since I don't, and I don't really want to sleep in "our" bed, he's taking it.  This, however, leaves me bedless.  And Katherine needs beds in both homes, and so needed a second bed.

A lot of problems can be solved by throwing money at them.  I can not tell you how much I have longed to go online, point and click, and then have somebody show up at my door with my desired items - including beds - in hand.  No such luck.

Instead, I've been hunting around Craigslist for suitable items.  Katherine requested bunkbeds, and though this doubles the cost (double mattresses, double bedding) of getting her a bed, and though I don't particularly relish climbing a ladder to change her sheets or read her stories, I recognized this as an opportunity to give her what she most desires, a positive outcome of the divorce (in her mind; she's wanted bunkbeds for ages but I kept telling her she had a perfectly good bed) in a sea of negative changes, and I agreed to it.  It turns out that bunkbeds are the most popular item ever on Craigslist, and I've spent a week sending messages to listings and not even hearing back because they're gone within minutes.

But finally, a friend of a friend came through - they had bunkbeds they were selling.  I enlisted my parents' help, and their truck, for hauling the beds.  And since I had them, I scrambled to find a bedframe/headboard on Craigslist for myself.  I couldn't bear used mattresses, so then we had to figure out cheap solutions to that problem.

Yesterday, my father and I disassembled beds and piled them in the basement next to the other piles.  I dealt with the under-bed dust bunnies.  I learned how to build bunkbeds.  I discovered that the bedframe I'd just purchased for myself was incomplete, and then spent some time spinning in circles trying to fix it. (Not fixed.  My boxspring is currently sitting on the floor, and last night I just hoped that the headboard didn't fall on top of me, because it's just leaning against the wall.)  And then I spent more money, because Katherine needed an extra set of bedding for the extra bed, involving heading out again to go to a handful of stores.

My nest has been a wreck from all of this chaos.  The basement looks like a cyclone has gone through it.

And my dishwasher broke, and suddenly I'm hand washing everything.

And there appears to be a leak by the chimney.

I am not managing this well.  I'm tired, and grumpy, and I want to have a tantrum.  Make it right!  Fix it!  Give me back my order and calm!

Bryan moves out in two weeks.  A month from now, we'll both have calm, because I will run around getting things done to make it happen.  I will keep reorganizing cupboards, I will collect hand-me-downs from friends to fill in the gaps, I will spend money buying necessities where there are no hand-me-downs.  By mid-July, it will be orderly again.  In a time of life that is chaotic, I cling to my small bits of order to keep me afloat, and I'm craving mid-July.

Praying I can hold on that long!


PS  Adding to my nesting troubles is the fact that ever since the great tree issue, my neighbors haven't spoken to me.  The city announced that even if I wanted one they would not grant a permit to remove the trees, and now the neighbors studiously avoid looking in my direction.  Not sure what I'm going to do about this, but it does make it awkward when we're all in our yards!  I'm very glad to keep my trees - ah, looking up to admire them now - but not happy about continued neighbor drama, even of the stony silent variety.

Stages of Grief

This week I started separating out the kitchen items.

I went back into my spreadsheets of finances to update them.

I started making lists of home repairs that I was just going to have to deal with, whether I wanted to or not.

I contacted my friends with a list of items I need for post-split: like most households, we have one blender, one toaster, one vacuum, etc. and we're going to have to figure out how to double these items in the next three weeks.

Work is busier than ever.

Katherine is struggling to accept these new changes.  Except for the one giant fit - transference of every anxiety she has into something small and petty, but perhaps it was good for her to let it all out, even if it hit me where it hurts - she is doing well, but I see the small shadows around her eyes.  She's worried.

And I'm in a new stage of grief: depression.  I think I like this stage least of all.  Denial has its advantages, after all, because I'm pretty good at pretending all is well.  Anger is at least energizing.  I spent most of my marriage in the bargaining stage, so it worked for at least a decade.  I thought I was in acceptance - ah, blissful acceptance - of where I am: I have been thinking it through, planning, imagining a better future....

But right now, I'm just sad.  My family doesn't work.  Our finances are broken.  I'm exhausted.  My daughter hurts.  The word "overwhelmed" feels like it is tattooed on my forehead.

This is to be expected.  How could I divorce without deep sadness?  And now that things are put into piles, his and mine, how could I not grieve the life that might have been? 

I'm trying to live with this sadness.  I grieve for the death of the fantasy of the happy family; I grieve for the hopes that I thought we shared; I grieve for the life I've lost.  I grieve for our daughter.  I grieve for myself.




Readers, how do you manage your grief, sadness, depression over a divorce?  Any suggestions as to how I can both accept that sadness is a part of the process....and move out of sadness?  I learn a great deal from your stories and suggestions, and I welcome both.

Giving it our all

I find it very hard to do anything halfway.  I'm either in, or I'm out.

This is very true for me in divorce, too.  I fought hard for my marriage.  I told myself repeatedly that we could work through our problems, that I could try a little harder, that my husband was a good man and so surely we could make it work.  We had problems, even serious ones, for a decade before I even used the "d" work, even in my own mind.

Reading things on the internet and in the media, I sometimes wonder if I'm an anomoly.  I know I'm not alone, certainly (thank you, dear readers, for sharing your stories with me), but I read something like this:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/series/diary-of-a-separation

...and I am profoundly lost.  I can not relate to the author of this series much at all.

Have you read it?  It's called "Diary of a Separation" and it was a series in The Guardian (UK).  For about a year, a woman chronicled her separation, including telling the children, moving out, adjusting to the new life, dating, and the rest.  I can't read enough about separations and divorces right now - I desperately want to understand, to feel connected - so when I found this series, I read it from top to bottom, beginning to end.

And I don't get it.

The author of the series seems ambivilant.  She seems to want a fantasy life that is interesting and far from mundane, so she leaves her marriage, only to live a life that isn't particularly interesting and has plenty of the mundane (starting with the house she rents, which she describes in such gray, sad language).

The series ends abruptly, and I want to know what happens next.

Did she go back to him?  If she did, would he take her?  (Her life got more cluttered and confusing; she made his seem at first bleaker, but then, possibly, much better than it had been during marriage.)  Did she meet someone new and decide to stop blogging about divorce?  Did she lose interest in the topic?  Did she enter therapy and decide to work it out less publicly?  Speculation won't answer the questions, but I do wonder.

But most of all, I wonder about this: how come she was so uncertain in her posts?  How on earth could anyone go through all of the pain of divorce, the financial hardships, the wear and tear on the children (dear God that is an understatement), if there was no abuse, but also no real, concentrated effort on making it work?  What about therapy?  What about talking to a pastor? What about going to mom and dad or some other older couple and asking about marriage?

Did I miss something here?

I gave it my all, and my all wasn't enough.  I was as "in" to my marriage as I could be, until the writing was on the wall.

Every divorce has its story.  The anonymous poster in The Guardian series has hers, and I have mine.  I found hers interesting, but I just don't get it.  Perhaps I don't get it because it's more Bryan's side of the story than mine....he didn't give it his all, either, and he wouldn't put the work in to try on our marriage.  He showed up to counseling because I dragged him, but that was all.

What is it that makes some give it their all until the bitter end, and others barely participate in their own marriages?  What am I missing here?

If anyone can shed some light on this, I'd love to hear your theories.  And if you don't have answers, read the series that I've linked to, and let me know what you think.  What do you make of it?

Thanks, readers.  Have a great day.  After yesterday's emotional roller coaster, today's post is less personal, because I am still completely, utterly wiped out from from yesterday's heartache.

Does Daddy really have to move out?

Another busy day.  Work, work, work, run to get child, come home to dog (unwalked) and house (uncleaned) and no dinner.  Make dinner.  Tidy up breakfast dishes.  Sit down to hot home cooked meal (late but I did it, tasty and balanced), feeling like maybe, just maybe, I can do this...

And then the question, like four thousand bricks flying at me, hitting my body, bruising me, knocking me down, suffocating me with their weight when I fell.  Accompanied by Katherine's flushed cheeks, and tearful eyes the color of the sky in summer, it was hard for me to breathe.  My own eyes filled with tears immediately.

"Yes, baby, he has to move out.  I am so, so sorry that I can't make our family work together.  I would do anything to give you a great life..."

"Then Mama, can't he just stay in the basement?"
(More tears.  Mine.  I was powerless to stop them.)

"No, baby, it's time for him to move out.  It will be really hard at first, but we will all adjust, and I'm just so, so sorry that it has to be this way.  This is not what I dreamed of for any of us, and I wish it didn't have to be this way, but your dad and I aren't good together.  We weren't good for each other, and that is not how we want to teach you to have a marriage.  In good marriages, people have fun together, and they don't yell at each other, and they work hard together.  We just weren't good at that, and we tried, but we couldn't do it..."

Silence.  I tried again.

"In some divorces, the parents just yell at each other and it's hard for the kids.  We're trying not to do that to you.  When you're with me, you can visit Daddy just down the street whenever you like as long as it's not bedtime or something like that.  I want you to love Daddy, and he wants you to love me.  We don't want to put you in the middle, honey, and we want to give you a great life.  We will try to make this as good for you as we can."

She just sighed.  And changed the conversation.

I still feel sick to my stomach over it.

I didn't say "Daddy shouldn't have yelled at Mama" and I didn't say "Daddy wasn't trustworthy" and I didn't say "Daddy tried to make Mama do all the work" and I didn't say "Being with Daddy made me feel more lonely than when I was alone."  I'm giving myself a gold star for that.  Two or three gold stars, actually.

But I don't want gold stars.  I want to make my daughter's life lovely and beautiful and I don't want her to feel any pain.  I especially don't want to be a source for her pain.

Divorce hurts her.  I was never under any illusions about that.  No child hopes that their parents will have such a bad relationship that it will lead to divorce, and she is no exception.  When he moves out, it's going to hurt her like nothing else in her life.  (My cancer hurt her, but she was so little, she has forgotten so much of it.  This is a blessing.)  I can not protect her from that pain.

I can not protect her from that pain, and it's all I want to do.

I believe that ultimately divorce will help her by teaching her to stand up for herself, and by my modeling of strength and compassion.  She will draw her own conclusions about her father.  She will also draw her own conclusions about me.  I will do everything in my power to model of life of integrity, to lead us both to joy, to be a pillar of strength, to create a beautiful life for myself and for her....but I will not have the proof of my decisions, good or bad, for many years.

I believe, in head and heart, that I am doing the right thing ultimately for her as well as myself.

But please don't mind if I cry myself to sleep tonight.

This is really happening

When I had cancer, after the initial diagnosis I was required to have three surgeries (two large and one small) before I started chemo, and then I did two sessions of chemo before I started to really lose my hair, about two months after the initial diagosis.  I chose to get my head shaved, rather than having it come out bit by bit, leaving a trail around the house, because it completely unnerved me to touch my head and have a handful come out.

Being PollyAnna, I turned it into a bit of a party.  I got my closest friends to come, and my hair stylist hosted us at her salon early on a Saturday before it really opened.  I didn't want to see myself half shaved - I've never been a punk rocker - and so I faced away from the mirror, towards my friends, as she shaved me.

Finally, it was done, and they asked me if I was ready to see myself.  I took a deep breath, and they slowly turned my chair around to face the mirror.  The words that flew out of my mouth at that moment shocked me, because what I said, with tears streaming down my face, was, "I have cancer!"

I knew I had cancer.  I had plenty of proof that I had cancer already.  But there was just something about seeing my bald head that drove the point home in a whole new, painful way, and it was at that precise moment that I finally understood that this was really happening to me, that it was not a bad dream, that my life was forever changed.

I feel like the next stage of my divorce might be similar to that moment of seeing myself in the mirror.

After much resistance (a topic for another post), Bryan has finally agreed to go out and get an apartment on schedule for his July 1st move out date.  In so many ways, this makes me happy: when he's here, it is awkward in the extreme, and I never know if he's going to be nice or snap my head off with sharp words; I am always certain that he will leave a trail much worse than breadcrumbs that I will have to clean up.  But the biggest reason of all, is that it allows all of us to move forward, to start the next part of our lives rather than this really difficult living in limbo.

We have been exchanging lists of what to keep, what to give up.  We've got a plan for Katherine's room (and I need to go furniture shopping for a new bed for her).  We're divvying up the kitchen things, and I have a shopping list for that, too.

But despite the fact that for more than a year we've lived separately in this house, that we have had a child custody schedule of alternate weekends, that we are very open with friends and family about the divorce, that many life changes have taken place to move us closer to divorce (including my working outside the home, and him working out of state during the week)....I'm pretty sure that the day he moves out and there are spaces where his things used to be, it's going to be a bit of a shock.

I have no regrets about the decision to divorce.  I gave it everything I had, I played by the rules, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't make the marriage work.  If Bryan begged to have me back - a VERY unlikely scenerio - I would not be tempted, because I know that our marriage was not good for either of us.

But still, some days, it's hard to believe that this is happening, that this is really my life.  Sure, I'm a capable woman who is taking charge of her future....but this is scary stuff.  Sometimes I wonder how I'll make it through.

And I'm really dreading the moment that I look in the mirror in a half empty house, and see the face of divorce.

Note: I will address the parenting aspects of this major change in another post.  Tonight, that just feels like more than I can manage.  Katherine is doing great, but I am not a fool, and every time I think about the changes in her life I feel my heart breaking.




Does this make sense to anyone, or am I truly looney to feel this way?

What has made your divorce feel more real and tangible? 

Do you ever feel like this (divorce, or other difficulty) isn't really happening to you, that somehow this can not be your life?

Thank you, dear readers, for sharing your thoughts.

One foot in front of the other

Yesterday was a tough day.

In addition to the horrors seen in the media (which hit WAY too close to home), I had to exchange email with Bryan about move out dates.  He keeps wanting to push the date back: for me, it's a rock solid date, but he has suggested date after date after date, later and later dates.  This puts me in the uncomfortable position of having to reject him over, and over, and over again.

Just to be clear: I don't think he wants to be with me.  He's not asking for love, romance, or even companionship.  I just think that he can't bear the idea of moving out.  I don't blame him for not wanting to move away from our daughter; in his shoes, I don't know how I'd do it.  But I think it's more than that... I think it's inertia.  I think it's that he likes the illusion that living in "our" house allows him that things aren't that different than they used to be.

On days when he is "on" with Katherine, he still gets a lot of help.  He goes to the refrigerator, and it is stocked with snacks and food and even beer (which I don't drink, but he does, and I buy for him).  He never thinks twice about laundry for the girl - her drawers are magically refilled (and when the clothes get to small, they automatically show up in the next size - magic!).  He works on bikes out in the garage, and when she wanders around saying "I'm bored, Mama" I do activities with her.  When she says, "I'm hungry," I feed her.

When he moves out, all that will change.

I'm mad at him for all of this, sure.  But I feel sorry for him, too.  I fill hopeful about the future.  I feel certain of my own ability to manage.  I am proud of the effort I put in to making our lives rich and full, even on a shoestring budget.  He is depressed, angry, lonely (he has isolated from many people).

I know he's hurting.  I feel compassion for him, and I work hard on that compassion.  (It turns out that being compassionate is very hard work.)

But it absolutely wears me out to be the strong one, the one setting the agenda, the one who has to keep pushing him away.

And I feel even more worn out when I think of the to-do list associated with his moving out.  Some days I'm barely holding on by a thread, and I feel like I can't manage one more single thing.

Deep breaths.  One foot, then another, then another, then another.......

Move Out Date

Bryan and I have set a move out date of July 1st, less than two months from now.

This is the ultimate leap of faith for me, because I would be in financial trouble if he moved out tomorrow; I still don't make enough to cover the household expenses, and he can't make up all of that money.

But I am going to make this work.  I am.

I am working half time.  I have hope for making that full time, and I'm working my network as hard as I can, and I have possibilities for extra work.

I also have one more resource, one that I've never called upon.....a wealthy grandmother.  She keeps saying "If you need something, let me know," and through cancer, through all of this, I never asked her for a cent.  In my life, I've never asked her for a cent.  But I'm going to ask.  I'm going to ask her for a sum of money that seems staggering to me, but is what I need to keep going and keep the house.

Because Bryan has to, has to, has to move out.  His depression makes him lie on the couch all day on most days, doing nothing but playing video games.  He is usually snarky and rude to me.  He is unhealthy in so many ways that it is painful for me to watch.  He models behavior to Katherine that makes me cringe.

I actually believe that his life will improve immensely when he moves out, contrary to what he may or may not believe.  I think that our relationship feeds his depression because he feels that I am unfair to him in some way, and I think when he's lying on the sofa watching me scurry around taking care of our daughter, working, making meals, caring for the house....some part of him knows he is being a total schmuck.  I don't know what he sees when he looks at himself in the mirror, but I know it's not pride.

I am pretty sure I am going to have to help him find an apartment, get him packed, and deliver things there.  I am already resigned to that.

Our deal is that he gets a place walking distance from our home, which should be relatively easy because we are not too far from a street lined with apartments (though we live in a single family homes area, it's close to an urban village area).  Katherine will be able to run over to say "Look at my cool ______!" and say hello whenever she likes, within reason (e.g. not at bedtime, not when she should be doing homework).  If she forgets something, it'll be easy to go back and forth.

Katherine has had a year to adjust to this idea, and we've had a year of the custody schedule that we agreed to.  Her counselor has seem dramatic improvement in that time and has suggested we scale back on appointments.  We can now talk openly about "when Daddy moves" and she doesn't skip a beat.  It will be hard when he's in a different home, I know that.....but my heart tells me it's going to be okay.

And no, it's not ideal for her.  What's ideal for her is that she grow up in a home with two parents who love her, who model great behavior to her, who teach her how be in relationship to a partner.  What she got instead was two parents who love her, who taught her tension, anger, frustration, anxiety.  She got a parent who yelled a lot, who lost his temper, who shut down in the face of conflict and stormed off; she also got a parent who tiptoed around trying to make everything perfect so that things would be okay, and then would occassionally erupt in tears or anger and say "Why do you act like that?".  It was at the  point at which I realized that I was teaching her to live life that way that I got the courage to say "Enough."

Katherine knew how bad it was.  She would try to make it better.  She would look sad, and shut down.  Her grades fell.  I kept trying to make it better, and it kept getting worse.  I tried to compensate in every way I could for the tension in our house, but she had a lot of stomach aches.

After a few months of adjusting to the idea of divorce, her grades started climbing.  She started to seem happier.

I can't give her the childhood I dreamed of for her.  But I'm going to give her the best I can, the best within my power.  I haven't lost sight of that.