Update

So much has happened over the past few months that I find myself a little bewildered. I've tried to sit down and blog, but it's hard to communicate what I don't fully understand myself. The short story is that T has convinced me to try and reconcile and has moved back in.

The longer story is that I'm not sure how I feel about that.

The funny thing is that it's not really about him. He's going to individual counseling (for the first time), working with a life coach on a daily basis (for the first time), and *gasp* taken responsibility for a lot of issues that he always blamed on others (for the first time). He's been able to admit he's depressed, which he's been in denial about for years. He recognizes times he's been selfish, and that he has a problem with crossing the line when it comes to women. He sees and acknowledges his short-comings, and he's opening up and actually talking/sharing about his insecurities/feelings. He's changed in so many ways, all for the better.

The cynic in me isn't sure it will last, and it's hard to let down the walls that I've built up. I was at the point where I was able to cut the cord and walk away without looking back, and I'm not sure I want to retreat from that spot. But he's saying - and more importantly doing- all the right words and actions, even when we had a big blow up fight. He said he realized that we (the boys and I) are the most important things in the world to him and he needed to put us first, no matter what. And he has been. He blew off several work-related events, including conference sessions, when issues popped up. For so many years, work has been his number one priority, and it's a little disconcerting to see him willing to ignore it because his family needs him.

So the problem isn't really him.

Instead, I think the problem lies with me. I feel like I failed myself. I was ready to cut the cord. For so many years, I've had my hands on a dull knife, slowly sawing the rope that was our marriage apart. Strand by strand, I watched it unravel, threatening to saw faster at times, other times trying to glue the loose strands back together depending on how things were going. But I'd finally had enough. I hacked the rope until there was just a few strands left and it felt good. I wasn't afraid anymore. I was ready to move on, ready to embrace *me*, the vibrant woman I thought I lost long ago when being a mom and wife subsumed my life. I was confident and strong- I would get through this and survive for the better.

And I didn't go through with it.

Things are going great and I know that reuniting has been good for the kids and us as a family, but sometimes when I look into the mirror I see the vivacious woman with her cfm boots and sparkling smile that I used to be glaring at me. And I don't want to lose her again. The problem is, she believes in consequences. Motivation doesn't matter, actions do. T chose to lie and leave- there should be a consequnce for that. Letting him come home is almost a slap in the face.

So we'll see how things go; nothing is set in stone and he knows he has a lot of work in front of him to earn back my trust. In the meantime, I'm just taking each day as it comes, focusing on the moment.

Waiting to see what happens.

A Kid Moment

Okay, this isn't going to be about my divorce, but it's a little sad and a little funny (kinda like my life right now), so I thought I'd blog it anyway.

Our cat died horribly last week. He was hit by a car, but it looked like either a raccoon or coyote might have gotten to him first. The only reason we could tell it was Tom was because he had jumped on the kitchen counter and gotten a fly trap stuck to his tail right before he ran outside. The trap was still on the body when we found him. It was very messy and horrible, and unfortunately both kids saw it.

Needless to say, we were all crushed.

So I went out with a shovel and a box so I could take him to the vet's. As a complete aside, the most wonderful woman, a stranger, saw me sobbing on the street and stopped. She hugged me while I cried and then picked up the body for me- it really reaffirmed my faith in both God and people.

M was really upset about Tom's death and wanted to take him to a pet cemetary. That wasn't really practical, so I opted for a private cremation so we could get Tom's ashes back. I thought we could have a little memorial service and bury his ashes, giving the kids some closure.

But M was upset that I had taken the body to the vet. He wanted a burial, with Tom's body intact. The scavengers had already been attacking the organs and body parts strewn across the street; I didn't know how to explain to M that it wasn't a good idea to bury the body for fear that it would be dug up again. Haltingly, I tried to point out that the body was damaged badly and it was better that the body be cremated before we buried it.

M thought about it for awhile while I stumbled through different reasons until he patted my hand.

"It's okay Mom, I understand."

I looked at him in confusion. None of my arguments had made any sense to me.

"You do?"

M nodded solemnly. "Yes. We can't bury Tom because of the zombies."

So I haven't blogged for awhile, mainly because being a single mom has been keeping me very busy. Add in work, trying to get T's stuff moved out, and holidays, and I'm barely keeping my head above water.

There's been a lot of ups and downs, but I've gotten to a good place. A place where I breathe and just focus on the moment and what I can control. I'm almost to the point where I realize I'm better off without him- not just the words and logical understanding, but an honest, emotional realization. I am better off without him. It's a big step. It doesn't mean I don't still occasionally miss him, but for the most part I'm content. I don't read his blog, don't check if he's online, don't really think about him at all. I feel like I'm moving on.

Which is supposedly what he wants, right? At least that's what he's been saying. But tonight I'm out to dinner with the boys, and he sends me an email about a discussion we had a month ago.

"You know, before you start complaining about my family marginalizing you and cutting you off, maybe you ought to think about how you came across to them over the years."

He then copies part of a chain email where his sister rips me apart for an incident fifteen years ago.

What is the point of that? I don't send him emails from my friends and family talking or complaining about his faults. And I find it somewhat cruel when he knows I miss his family and he gleefully points out that they apparently don't miss and may have even disliked me. How am I supposed to respond to that? Worse yet, how do I continue to negotiate in good faith with a person I no longer recognize?

I have always despised those parents (usually mothers) who try and use their children to get back at their divorcing spouses. And yet, just like people cannot understand what it's like to be the parent of a special-needs child (or a parent at all) until it happens to them, I fell into that trap during a particularly vicious fight with T.

Trying to explain how certain of his actions were hurting my feelings, only to experience the reality that he really didn't care, led to a bout of name-calling and mud-slinging on both sides. Unwilling to cede the last word to him, frustrated at his ego-centric world view, I told him that I was changing the Halloween plans (we were each taking M for half of the night) and going to a friend's Halloween party. He could see M another time.

My glory at listening to him stream invectives was short lived however. When I told M that he wasn't going to see his dad for trick-or-treating, he was crushed. And so was I. I hate T so much for what he was putting us through, especially how he was handling it, that I wanted my kids to hate him too. I wanted them to see how selfish and unfair he was being, to understand that I was the one doing all the sacrificing while he went off and partied. I wanted them to take my side and reject him, just like he was rejecting me.

And I realized how selfish that was of me.

So I let M call his dad and tell him that they could go trick or treating. And I sent an email to T apologizing for trying to use the kids to get back at him.

And when I found out that the trick-or-treating at the mall ended at 7 (the time T was supposed to pick him up), I swallowed my anger and called T so he could meet us an hour earlier. Tried to put my son's interest in front of my own. And when M wanted T to join us for dinner, I let him and didn't say a mean word the entire time. I prompted M to tell his dad about different things that he had been doing.

But what did I get out of this?

A snarky reply to my apologizing email saying I still needed to apologize for other things I had said that night. (Not that he apologized for anything he said or did). Not one word of thanks for me either calling him about the time so he could trick or treat or inviting him to dinner. Instead he invited himself to M's last football game (which we weren't sure we were going to, but he decreed that M had to as he was part of the team) and when I called him on it later over email, saying he had no right to dictate these things without talking to me first, he chewed me out and said he had every right as M's father.

So now I'm back at where I started, hating him and his inability to compromise, feeling powerless in the destruction of our relationship where he holds all the cards. The only card in my possession are the kids- and while I hope I'm the kind of person who could put my children in front of myself, I have a lot more sympathy for those people who don't.

The rollercoaster

So it's been almost a month since the original phone call that ripped our lives apart. In that time he's been by to see the kids twice.

Twice.

I should be surprised, but sadly I'm not. He does travel a lot, and so he's not always around. And after a couple days of calling pretty religiously, he's stopped doing even that.

A lot has happened in that time, including his rush to find a mediator so we can 'proceed'. When I asked what the rush was, he responded that he wanted to move forward "in case he met someone". Since he's been unfaithful multiple times in the past, I suppose I should be happy that he at least is trying to end one relationship before starting another. Of course considering the emails suggesting an affair, maybe I'm being too optimistic.

Its funny because I'm kind of numb about it all; I just don't think I care anymore what he's doing, who he's screwing, etc. And maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it means I'm moving on. But then I get the cell phone bill showing the $700 he spent while in Europe- there are two numbers in particular that were repeated, over and over. One belongs to the woman he's accused of having the affair with, the other to an old girlfriend. And I feel like I've been kicked in the chest.

It suggests that all the words he used to soothe my fragile feelings were all lies. He obviously wasn't too busy to talk to the kids, and while he protests that there is no one else, that seems pretty laughable as well. I keep thinking back to this weird question he asked me two months ago, if women would find it easier to break up with someone who was cheating on them, or just 'wasn't in love' with them anymore. I said the latter, and now it seems pretty suspicious that that's the line I'm being fed.

But why should that matter to me? He's a manipulator; I've known that for a while, and I find it somewhat scary that all of my friends are cheering my divorce instead of mourning the end of my marriage. Several of our couple's therapists suggested that I would be better off without someone who treated me so poorly. Everyone thinks this is great news- except me and the kids. And I thought I was at the point where I could see his flaws so clearly and was able to walk away without looking back.

And yet I can't help it. When he's gone, it's so clear what I should do. But when he's there, interacting with the kids, I lose it. I forget all the lies, the manipulations, the put-downs. I mourn the loss of what we had and wish we could find a way to rebuild. And then he leaves again and I hate myself for not being able to cut him off as easily as he cut me. Up and down, round and round, spiraling on what appears a collision course- that's me when he calls or emails or visits.

I suppose the only good thing is that he rarely does any of those things.

So I will separate the cell phone bills so he pays his own plan and I don't have to see who he's talking to at 11 pm at night. And I will enjoy that gentle scenic part of the ride- like the first half of Splash Mountain- before I'm sucked into plunging down the emotional rollercoaster my life has become.

Responsibilities

My youngest son, M., is in football. He's not particularly good at it, but he's built like a tank and because of how they assign age/weight points, the biggest kid in the Rookie division. (If it wasn't his first year, he'd be forced to play with the older kids). My husband, T, was the one excited about this. He was going to help M. with his plays. Help him learn how to throw and catch a ball. Play Madden on the X-box together. You get the idea.

And yet I am the one freezing my toes at the football games. I am the one trying to throw a spiral. I am the one texting the score to T and calling grandparents, filling them in on every detail. And that was fine.

Until he dumped me.

Everything is so raw and painful, I've chosen to stop as much contact with him as I can. I still email questions about logistics, still urge my kids to call and say goodnight. But gradually I've stopped being the one to initiate contact.

And now that I'm not texting, nobody is calling. Nobody wants to know the score, know whether or not M made the tackle. Nobody calls to say goodnight. Needless to say, I find this painful, as does my son. He's lost his fragile enthusiasm for the game, telling me, "Nobody else likes football anymore except you."

And my heart breaks. I hate my soon-to-be ex for doing this, for failing to be a father without me holding his hand and prompting him. And I'm conflicted. He made it very clear we were no longer a family; it is no longer my job to watch out for him, to guide him in what his kids need at the moment. I tell myself to let him fall, that it is the only way for him to learn responsibility, to learn that he can't just neglect his kids except when he's in front of them. It's also impossible to move on when I'm performing the same roles; keeping him connected to his family- a family that he doesn't want to include me in. But I look at my son's face after a tough game and my resolve flies out the window. I don't want to call him. But I do it anyway.

And hate myself for not being able to let go.

The Phone Call

He dumped me over the phone.

After 15 years and 10 months of marriage, he told me he wanted out. He didn't love me, hadn't for a while. Then he proceeded to tell our two sons, 15 and 8, that Daddy wasn't coming home anymore.

Over the phone.

That's the part that I can't forgive.

Oh, I know he'd been depressed and unhappy for awhile. He kept pulling away; stressed about finances, the economy (who isn't?), what he's accomplished... I'd suggested anti-depressants or therapy, which he promptly blew off. He travels a lot, and there had been emails to me from his associates suggesting an affair, which he denied.

But to destroy our marriage over the phone? Who the hell does that? Worse, to destroy our sons' world? To smash their lives apart and not be there to help them pick up the pieces? Our eldest son has high-functioning autism and our youngest is on the autistic spectrum. Neither one of them deals with change well.

This was a big change.

I held my youngest in my arms all night as he sobbed, trying to answer questions as best I could. Telling him Daddy loved him even though I wanted to tell him that Daddy was a narcissistic asshole who didn't love anyone but himself. I shed a few tears, but having to comfort others meant I couldn't comfort myself. And now everything is all locked away and I can't cry, even when I want to.