You Gotta Have Friends or Why Siri Sucks

Ever have one of those days where you hate your cheating husband, have a stent still inside of you and are constipated because of the medicine you're on? <raising my hand>

Who do you turn to in these hours of need? Your friends (and maybe a laxative). I was fantasizing about getting the kids kittens (when we know where we will be living in a few months, of course.) I asked a coworker if I should get cats or kittens? She said kittens of course. So I shared her wisdom with my BFF who is the queen of cats. Did she agree with the kittens over cats assessment?

Her response:

Hysterical laughter erupts as I try to decipher this message. I will be seeing BFF on Sunday for a translation. If anybody speaks fluent SIRI, please let me know.

I Don't Hate You

I wrote this many weeks ago but never posted it. I'm not sure why. This interaction with my husband is what made me go the mostly no contact route. I need to stay in a healthy mindset for my kids and I can't do that when I engage in the blame game with my husband. 

___

Tonight I had my weekly counseling appointment. Lots and lots to discuss.  My husband picked up the kids. Even though I found out he's a disgusting pig (responding to craigslist's ads soliciting sex with shots of his penis, yup; account on adult friend finder, yup; exchanging naked pics with random women on the internet, yup; year and a half long affair, yup), I do believe he loves his children (in his own way) and they needed to see him. He hasn't been home for a week since I found out about the additional qualifications that he can add to his resume for husband of the year. 

I texted him last night to ask if he still wanted to pick up the kids. "I don't know, what have you told them," was his response.  Idiot, like I'd tell the kids anything. "Just that you had to stay over at work," I responded. Fine, he'd pick them up. 

So yadda yadda yadda, the appointment is over and I arrive home. I walk in the door and he's in the kitchen. (Yes, the kitchen where he photographed his penis against my cabinet and sent it in some email to a random person from craigslist). "Hi," I say calmly. I can be quite the actress when I want. "Hi," he says sadly. I'd be sad too if I sent genital shots to half the people on craigslist. I greet the kids and he puts on his coat. Look up 'awkward' in the dictionary and you'll see a photo of us saying goodbye to each other. He tells the kids he has to go back to work. The kids say goodbye and I love you and he looks tortured. I feel pity for him. 

He leaves and then I receive this text: 

___

I'm not sure if I should have stayed longer. I feel awful leaving them but I guess that's fair and what I should feel. But I don't want to aggravate you either. I'm sorry for destroying everything.

__

I bawl. He feels bad. He really feels bad! "I'm sorry too, I'm worried about you," I write back. Sobbing and sobbing. He feels some pain over this. Finally a breakthrough. 

He writes back: 

____

I'm sure you are but I'm not some sexual predator or someone you have to worry about with our kids. I'd never do anything to hurt them. 

____

Hmmm. I want to respond that you've already hurt them but I refrain. I want to rip him apart on this one but he just said that he's sorry, that he destroyed everything! How should I respond? Maybe I shouldn't????

And then I get another text: 

____

But I'm worried about you but I really don't think you'll ever be willing to admit that you have set any conditions in our marriage that caused it to fail. 

___

I wanted to write "my conditions were that you'd be faithful and not a piece of shit like your cheating father" but I refrained.

And then I get another text: 

 __

Just like you're probably convinced that I'm out of my mind I'm equally convinced that you don't have the capacity to think of yourself as anything less than without fault or perfect. I won't disagree however that you're a victim of my actions and horrible choices, and for that I can't apologize enough to you or our kids.  But I'm not trying to make you upset. I do still care for you and the kids and it may not sound right, but I don't hate you. 

 __

He doesn't hate me? That makes me feel so much better. Imagine if he did hate me? What would he do then? Gouge my heart out with a spoon? At this point I'm rolling on the floor laughing. It's not even hard to refrain from responding. Go sell crazy somewhere else, we're all stocked up here. (Credit Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets for that terrific line.) 

Another One Joins the Club

A friend recently told me that her neighbors are getting divorced. 'That's too bad,' I said but in a dark place inside my soul I think one more member for the local divorced club. The couple has 2 sons and one daughter, all in junior high. The Dad is a real asshole, my friend says, with quite a temper and the mom is throwing him out. Their two sons are furious at their mother which is making it very hard. And then my friend says, 'At least your kids aren't angry at you or your husband.' 

Last week my kids raced down the road to the mailbox. They came running back and my nine year old daughter was excitedly waving something like it was the latest American Girl catalog. 'Mommy, Daddy got some mail! What do we do with it?' Before I had a chance to answer, my six year old said, 'He doesn't live here anymore, throw it in the trash.' I laughed before I could stop myself and then said, 'We'll give it to him the next time we see him' (although I really would like to burn it in the backyard). 

I'm not a child psychologist but the words that my son spoke don't sound like he's completely hunky dory with Daddy moving out. I think he does harbor anger towards his father for leaving. So often my daughter comes homes and says one of her friends didn't play with her at recess and she says she's mad and sad about it. Daddy moving out is similar to that but magnified about a million times. One of the most important people in your life is gone all of a sudden. You don't talk to him daily anymore, you see him occasionally. He's not there to tuck you in at bedtime. If you get hurt by a friend ignoring you at recess one day, I can't imagine the rejection you feel when Daddy moves out. 

My daughter is going on an overnight field trip for school. To say she is bouncing with excitement is an understatement. She packed her things enthusiastically and then I saw her sitting on her bed with a photo of the 'intact' family, the four of us, during a trip to Disney World a few years ago. 'What are you doing?' I asked. 'I'm going to put pictures in my locket so if I miss you when I'm gone, I can look at my locket and kiss you.' <heart melting> I watch her carefully cut out her brother's face and then my face. She put the cutouts in the locket and then put the rest of the photo aside. My husband's face never got cut out of that photo, never found a home in her locket. Should I have asked her why she didn't include his photo, prompted her to cut that one out as well? I don't know. She didn't bring it up and neither did I. 

I think people deserve happiness but I don't think it should come at the expense of your children. Divorce happens but I believe you should fight tooth and nail before you upheave your children's world. I will never be able to fathom the selfishness of parents who quickly throw in the towel because they want to move on to find their own version of happiness. I believe (hope) my kids will be okay but I also believe a little part of their hearts are always going to remember the pain and confusion from this time in our lives. My husband's father cheated on his mother seventeen years ago and my husband doesn't have a relationship with his father anymore. My husband was an adult when his father left his mother and it had a profound effect on him. What kind of impact will this have on my children who are in the midsts of their formative years? 

Buh Bye Stone

Yesterday was my much awaited surgery for the kidney stone. Once again fate and small town community provided some entertainment. We had heard that my uncle's son's wife was having surgery on the same day as I was. Would we run into these distant relatives? Would we see the black sheep of the family - the woman's son? A not-blood cousin that I used to think was cute growing up but he's had a few run-ins with the law in the past twenty years. 

My mom spied him first in the lobby when we were checking in. She poked me and said, 'There he is.' 'No way!' I said, 'he's gained so much weight.' Then I was called in to pre-op and the moment was over. They prepped me for the surgery and my mom and I were talking about this black sheep of the family and how coincidental it was to see him there. At one point I had to get up to go to the bathroom and I leave my curtained room, struggling to keep my gown closed so my ass wasn't on display and hold on to my IV fluid bag with the other hand. I was distracted as I was walking down the hall just focused on getting to the bathroom without ripping the IV out. I conducted my business and made the trek back to my curtain, once again reaching behind me to futilely hold my gown closed in the back (why the hell can't they have velcro) and holding on to my IV. I got to the room just before mine and I heard, 'Hey!' I look and there's a whole room of my distant relatives sitting there watching me juggle my IV and flapping gown. The black sheep looks at me and I said, 'I hope my gown was closed.' He said, 'I've  seen a whole new side of you.' Everyone laughs and I crawl back to my room visualizing my cottage cheese ass on display as my gown waved to and fro. A few minutes later the black sheep came into my room and chatted with my mom and I. I didn't ask if he really saw the full moon when I walked by. I really DO NOT want to know. 

When the nurse rolled me into the operating room this time, they hadn't given me any 'relaxing bug juice' yet. They asked me to move from one bed to another and I said, 'I don't remember having to do this last time. Must be I was unconscious and someone picked me up and moved me.' No, they said, the bug juice makes you forget but you're awake. Uh, what? Yup, they said, you just can't remember anything but you're awake until they give you the general anesthesia. 'I'm going through a divorce, I'd like to live my whole life like that. Can I take some home with me?' They laughed and said unfortunately not. My last thought is OMG, what do I say when I'm under the influence of the drug? Do I spill all my sordid secrets? Do I regale them with stories of my cheating husband before I'm knocked unconscious? Once again, I DO NOT want to know. 

The kidney stone was lasered by the doctor and the pieces successfully retrieved. The aftermath is almost as painful as me still housing the stone. Yowzers, that hurts, pain killers are my friend. Tomorrow is bound to be a better day. 

Counting Your Blessings

At the hospital last week I was walking through the hall uncomfortably with my husband and sister in law. A man and a woman were coming towards us and they were talking and laughing. (I saw the happy couple right away because I'm no longer part of one.) Then I noticed they were pushing a wheelchair. And in the wheelchair was a child, probably around the age of my son. He had wispy hair and chalky pale skin and was so frail looking that I internally winced. He was very obviously enduring a long stay in the hospital. Cancer I'm guessing. The parents were saying something that made the child smile. I thought of my son and daughter at school and I immediately felt ashamed. Ashamed of my hatred for the father of my children walking beside me. Ashamed of wallowing in my 'why is life so hard right now' attitude. Although I'm not very religious, I said a prayer for that child. May he soon see the hospital in the rearview mirror as he's driving away with his family towards the rest of his life. 

There's an old Chinese proverb my boss told me about recently. She said it goes something like this - if we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab our own back. 

I'm grabbing my own problems today and I'm counting my blessings. 

* Today I'm having surgery to get the kidney stone excavated. Camera in my ureter, camera in my bladder. Laser to zap the stone and the doctor will pick out all the pieces. It sounds like loads of fun but I'm looking forward to having this behind me (or should I say out of me?).  Maybe I'll run into my neighbor who works registration at the hospital, the one who saw the moving van in my driveway and she'll ask me how my divorce is working out for me. 

Memorial Day & Honor

Happy Memorial Day to all the men and women who sacrifice so much for their country. My husband is career military. I've been a proud military wife for 15 years and was a proud military girlfriend for three years previous to that.

Memorial Day is a pretty big deal in our house. Every year (when my husband wasn't deployed) we would go to the parade in the next town over. We would pack up the car with the kids and tell them about why this day was so special. They learned from an early age that Daddy had an important job. He fought for his country.  I don't know how many times my kids would say proudly, "My Daddy protects people in America. My Daddy is a soldier." If we saw someone in uniform at a store, the kids would say, "Just like Daddy, Mommy!" Some years my husband would march in the parade and we would proudly stand on the sidelines watching for him to walk by. We'd wave excitedly and the kids would yell "Hi Daddy!" Other years we would all sit together and wave at his fellow soldiers who marched by. My kids would climb on the howitzer outside the armory and they'd vie for candy thrown into the crowd. I have many fond memories and the photos that accompany them from those parades of years past. 

Today the kids asked about the parade and I said no, we wouldn't be going this year, we had to visit Grandma in the hospital. But I was really thinking that Daddy's new girlfriend lives in the town where the parade is and I didn't want to run into them. I'm being paranoid, I thought, there's no way he would parade (heh heh parade) his girlfriend at the parade. The parade where we used to sit on the front lawn of the armory with all the other proud military families. The parade where friends gather to watch, where coworkers and acquaintances wave to us as we walk by to find a place to sit. My community is a small town and you run into people you know everywhere. 

The kids and I didn't go to the parade. Instead I took them to a carnival and then we went to visit my mother in law in the hospital. While we were at the carnival, a friend texted me and said that she had seen my husband at the parade with a woman. A woman matching the description of his girlfriend.  "Tall, poufy red-headed and fugly. Looked bitchy too." I laughed when I saw the description. Yup, that's her from the one photo that I had found of her. My friend said that she couldn't believe that he had the nerve to bring his girlfriend there. Committing adultery in the military can get you brought up on a UCMJ charge. Something that my husband made me aware of when he told me about his affair. I could lose my job, he yelled, you better keep your mouth shut. As much as I'd love to get him fired from his job, my practical side wins out because I like money. And if he doesn't have a job, the money disappears. (Too bad it works like that, huh?) Funny how I'm worried about him losing his job but he doesn't seem to be now. My friend continued on with her description, "She's taller than your husband with thick curly red hair. How can SHE live with herself. BITCH. I wanted to run her over but I thought that I should probably act more mature than that. It just made me sick." Have I said yet how much I love my friends? 

The fact that my husband gave no thought to my children when he decided to attend the parade with his 'lady friend' makes me so sad. He knows attending is a tradition with us. I could have easily been there with our 6 and 9 year old kids. They have no idea that Daddy left us for another woman and I don't want to have that conversation anytime soon. What the hell does it feel like not to give a shit about your children anymore? To be so wrapped up in yourself to have no regard for anyone else? I feel guilty when I step on a bug outside. I feel bad when I have to tell the school that I just had surgery for a kidney stone and no, I can't do the school newsletter this week. I feel bad when I say no to my children a little too firmly when they ask for a candy bar at the store for the fiftieth time. I can't imagine doing something that could be so confusing to your children that they would remember for the rest of their lives how they ran into Daddy and his girlfriend at their favorite parade. 

Instead of feeling anger, I'm sad, really really sad. I wrote my husband a text and informed him that someone saw him there and thank God that I hadn't taken the kids and oh by the way, I hope you lose your job and it's going to be nobody's fault but your own. (Well, okay, I guess I am a little angry as well as sad.) My husband hasn't responded yet. That's his way of dealing with anything to do with the kids and the divorce now. Ignore it and it's not there. 

Honor. I think that's a word that my husband needs to look up in the dictionary. He seems to have lost his way. In my opinion, he's not fit to wear the same uniform as the honorable men and women who fight for this country every day and deserve to be recognized and remembered on this important day. 

Your Fifteen Minutes of Fame

I'm not encouraging anyone to take the plane to Crazytown. But I know sometimes your righteous anger is all you have and you end up on that flight. 

I was contacted by a NYC TV production company about any knowledge I have of individual's sojourns to CrazyTown. They said, 'I am writing to you from a nyc tv production company. We are working on a tv pilot for a major cable network about stories of female revenge. We are interviewing women who have plotted and carried out clever or original acts of vengeance against a husband or someone who perviously hurt them. In your circle, have you heard of any witty acts of revenge like this?' 

I saw a similar request on The Scorned & Slightly Bitter Blog so it looks legit. If you have a story that you think might be of interest to them, email me at dowehavetotellthekids@gmail.com and I'll give you their contact info. 

Who knows, maybe you'll end up with your fifteen minutes of fame and it will all be thanks to the Asshat in your life. 

Insulation

'Why is our family so different now?' my daughter questioned at bedtime. 'You mean because we're going through some hard times right now?' I asked. She nodded. 'All of our bad times are happening at once but we'll get through it and things will get better,' I said. She snuggled down in bed and didn't say anything more. 

My heart aches for my kids. Their grandmother's cancer, the divorce, my kidney stone. Any one of those things would be enough to worry a child but having them all pile on their small shoulders at once makes my heart literally hurt for them. I want to protect them, shield them from everything. But I won't. Life is hard sometimes and unless you're living in a fairy tale, nobody has a perfectly charmed existence. 

Today I took the kids to visit their grandmother. I wasn't sure if they would be freaked out by the tubes coming out of her or not. I wasn't sure if having them visit her was the right thing to do or not. But I remember when I was in college my grandmother passed away one night and my mom didn't call me until the next morning to let me know. I always imagined my parents grieving alone that night while they were shielding me from that midnight phone call. I know my parents thought that was the right decision to make but I disagree. As parents we want to insulate our children from pain and suffering but families are strongest when they are leaning on each other and sharing the weight of those hard times. 

My kids didn't react much to the tubes or the sight of Grandma laying in the hospital bed. To them she was still just Grandma and they talked to her and laughed and giggled. I think the sun rises and sets on my kids so I might be a bit biased but when my children walked through that hospital room doorway and my mother in law saw them, her eyes seemed to sparkle a little brighter. Yeah, I'm pretty sure she thinks the sun rises and sets on my kids too. 

No School

<ring> My cell phone chirps as I'm sitting on the toilet at 5:50AM checking all the divorce blogs. (Isn't that what every newly betrayed spouse does with her free minutes?) I recognize the number, it's the kids' school. It's too early for a call saying one of them is sick so the only thing it can be is school is closed. Yup, due to flooding. When you look around and the only other adult you see is your own reflection in the mirror, the question about who stays home remains unspoken. Work - I won't be making a guest appearance today. I'll see you when I see you after my surgery next Tuesday. 

Being a single mom is hard work. I know I'm preaching to the choir but there's never enough time in the day. I should be used to it by now since I've pretty much always felt like a single parent. Between my husband's deployments, work schedule and apparent disinterest in being part of the family, it's typically been the kids and I. Why I accepted that I don't really know. I guess I felt like he worked hard and deserved some time for himself. Or maybe I thought it was just easier to not have him be there because I could sense he didn't really want to be anyway. 

Last night my daughter asked me to help her with her homework as my son said that he had to read to me. For a moment I got annoyed and resentful. And then I thought, it's not a job to take care of your children, it's an honor and a privilege. My husband yelled something in one of our last rounds of arguments before we went the mostly no contact route. He screamed, 'You've already won!' At the time, I thought - won? What, a thousand pounds of heartache? Won the loss of my husband? Won the probable loss of my home? But now I know that I have won. I've won in having the children mostly with me. I've won from the look in their eyes every night when I tuck them in and say goodnight. I've won when they walk up to me and squeeze me tight. I've won when they say something silly or so sweet that my heart aches. I've even won the nights when there's too much to do and I have to help them with their homework. There's always the two hours after the kids' bedtime to sit down and rest. 

* Tonight my daughter is spending the night at a friend's house. I asked my son if he misses her. 'No,' he said, 'but I miss Daddy.' <knife to my heart> I let him stay up an hour past bedtime to watch a movie and we snuggled on the couch. I dozed off and I felt him get up and get a blanket and put it over me. My kids slay me with their amazing caring hearts. 

Happy Birthday F*cker

Today is my husband's birthday. He showed up at the hospital while I was visiting his mother. Yup, life is grand. 'Happy birthday Fucker,' I said. (Okay, I left off the word Fucker but I did think it.) Commence an hour of awkwardness until I had to leave. 

Tonight I was thinking about cleaning the pics off my phone of his extra curricular activities. They are hogging up the memory and I would rather have photos of my kids' smiling faces instead of ones of my husband's penis in my kitchen. One of the pics was a screenshot of a online chat he had with his girlfriend. I had never looked at it very closely. Tonight I read it and they both closed with 'I love you'. Mind you this conversation was conducted on the computer in MY KIDS' PLAYROOM. And it happened in the evening when the kids and I were DOWNSTAIRS. My mind is blown with the sordidness of this whole situation. I want to inflict some pain now. Wouldn't it be fun to unleash my crazy on his birthday? WOULDN'T IT?? Imagine me screaming this in what my sister would call my crazy voice. But <sigh> I'm too practical. I wish I would let the crazy outweigh my good side sometime. Seems like that would be tons more fun than eating the shit sandwich over and over. 

My mom is planning on visiting my mother in law tomorrow. I hope the hell she doesn't run into my husband there. That we have to be even considering this in the whole horrible cancer situation makes me so fucking angry that the crazy wells up higher. To make myself feel better I imagine my little 5' tall mother seeing him in the hallway at the hospital. She would let out a Comache yell and run down the hall, tackling him right in front of the nurse's station. My father would hold him down while my mom pummeled him repeatedly with her size 5.5 shoe. 

Do I think my mom would actually do that? Of course not. She would look at him and say hi coldly and then walk away and she would feel like she just dealt him a mortal blow. My mom is a borderline saint and I can never see her being able to spout rage at anyone even if she feels they deserve it. 

I hope my mother in law makes a speedy recovery. Both for her benefit and my own mental health. If I have to keep running into my husband, my level of crazy is going to skyrocket. Yes I could just not visit her but I don't think that's the right thing to do. She's the beloved grandmother of my children and I want to help her pass the endless hours that she has to face in the hospital. 

*As I'm writing this post my six year old comes downstairs and lays on top of me and puts his arms around me. He said, 'I love you. You're the best mommy. I would never want any other mommy. You're so sweet and kind.' 

I swear to God those were his words. How does he know that I'm struggling when I'm just laying there on the couch? He has more empathy in his little finger than my husband has in his whole body. My son may have been angling for five more minutes of TV time but I'm still sticking with the fact that he's a sweetheart. 

Okay, my crazy has dissipated. I love my kids.

I'm Sick of My Own Story

Is anyone else playing the role of heroine in a love story in your own mind? I used to. It was never the great American love story, I knew that. It was more like a middle-class comfortable life story. Since my husband told me about his affair, I've been starring in a tragedy although sometimes it feels more like a sitcom. You look at your life from afar and you think - really this is it? I'd like a rewrite please if it is. 

Today I'm tired. Tired of the 3's. Tired of running around trying to get everything done. Tonight I had to tell the kids that Mom was only going to be able to go to half of their games/practices tomorrow because they are playing in two different towns. 'But Mom, I want you to come to the whole thing,' they both said. That's not possible, I answered. Mommy guilt is a killer when you want to be at everything. 

I'm tired of work. Yes, I'm appreciative that I have a job and a paycheck but it's so hard to concentrate. I'm actually amazed that I'm still employed since I've been phoning it in lately, when I'm actually there, that is. I've taken more time off in the past few weeks than I've actually worked. And when I am there, I'm basically just holding my seat down. An empty shell where an employee once sat. My job entails a lot of process design and when your mind is filled with other thoughts, it's difficult to focus enough to be effective. 

I'm tired of being the betrayed spouse. Tired of being a soon to be divorcee. I'm tired of being hurt by my husband. I'm tired of wondering if I'm going to miss him or the idea of him. Tired of thinking and worrying about money. 

I'm tired of illness. Tired of having an ache in my stomach because of the kidney stone. Tired of being tired because I walked too far that day and I just want to lay down. I'm tired of worrying about my mother in law. I visited her today for a few hours and she was so pale and worn out looking that I barely recognized her. She kept asking what organs were removed and the more I would have to answer the harder it was to hold back the tears. She was in so much pain and was so bewildered acting that I got lightheaded in sympathy. Thank God I never went into health care, I could almost pass out at the thought of human suffering. When I was 9 years old, my best friend's mother had a baby. She was telling my mom the birth story and I remember all the blood rushing out of my head and swooning. 'Sit down and put your head between your legs!', my mom yelled. (Are you really supposed to do that?) 

I'm tired of living this life. But I know there's no turning back. I'm holding out for when this is the new normal and I stop looking around saying what just happened here? 

Bad things come in 3s

Bad things come in threes. I've been told that ever since I was little. Every time something really bad would happen, I would hold my breath and wait for other two things to happen. Today is the third bad thing. My divorce, my kidney stone, and my mother-in-law’s cancer.

My mother-in-law (MIL) rents out the other side of my parents' duplex. My mom and MIL are best friends. They go grocery shopping together, take walks, see each other every day. My father takes care of minor repairs for my MIL, brings her to get her car inspected, mows her lawn, etc. It was a strange situation in the beginning but now it’s become the new normal, and it works out well for everyone. The kids love going to visit their grandparents, they get to see all three of them in one place.

A few months ago my MIL found out that she has bladder cancer, most likely caused by years of smoking. Today my MIL had major surgery. She had her bladder, one of her kidneys, some lymph nodes, part of her urethra, ovaries, uterus, inner wall of her vagina and appendix removed. I spent the majority of the day in the hospital with my husband and my sister in law waiting for the surgery to be finished. Very strange to be sitting in a waiting room with the man that broke your heart, cheated on you for so long and ripped your family apart. But I knew I had to be there or I would have never forgiven myself. And you know what, it actually wasn't that hard if you just put everything aside and don’t focus on it. Shut your brain off from everything except the reason why you are there. 

My MIL’s surgery went well but she will have a lengthy recovery time in front of her.

You never know how strong you are until you don't have really a choice. Keep waking up and putting one foot in front of the other. The 3's will be over soon and we will all be on our way to better lives.

What Can You Do But Laugh

This morning I'm worried over my kidney stone and upcoming surgery. When will the surgery be? Will it be successful? I  go to the hospital to check in and the registration lady asks for my address and after I tell her, she says you must have just moved in. I said no,we've been there five years. 'I saw a moving truck there recently,' she said, 'I live right down the road. '

'Oh,' I said, 'my husband was moving out.'  'Moving out?'' she said with puzzlement. 'Yes, we are getting a divorce,' was my response.  I wanted to say have you heard of divorce? Apparently they happen every day. The look on her face was priceless. I think she wanted to be anywhere but in front of me at that point. Then she asks, 'Should I remove him as your emergency contact?' Yes, that's probably a good idea since I don't want to inconvenience him with a call about my ailing health if he's with his new 'lady' friend. 

Afterwards my mom and I had to laugh. Really? You go to the hospital for surgery and you still have to answer questions about your painful divorce. Life is grand sometimes.

* Update - No surgery this week. My doctor and the OR are booked. I'm waiting to hear what day next week it will be scheduled for. So here I sit as I hurry up and wait; patience is a trait that has never come easily to me.

Making Bad Decisions

Why I don’t move away and become a hermit with my children in the wilds of Alaska, I have no idea. I was speaking to my boss about my situation and my anger over it. She knows that my husband had a long term affair, she doesn't know any other details. She said ‘Yes, he’s made some bad decisions. But you weren’t happy, he wasn’t happy. Don’t you think it’s for the best?’ 

Hmm, let me mull that ridiculously fucking stupid comment over for a microsecond. No, I can’t say that I share that same philosophy. I’m surprised I didn’t immediately jump on her back like a wild monkey and start pulling her hair out, chattering obscenities. But then I would have ended up fired and likely with an assault charge so instead I calmly said, “I disagree.”

Bad decisions are when you choose the wrong soup at lunch or wear the bra that makes you uncomfortable all day. Having an affair and pathologically lying for a year and a half are not bad decisions. That’s either someone with a personality disorder or an asshole. (Likely both.) I am astounded over how many people feel the need to excuse cheating. What is it about cheating that makes people want to write it off and say ‘eh, it’s not so bad, get over it.’

Imagine your spouse coming home one night and saying he's been having an affair for eighteen fucking months and wants a divorce. Eighteen months that he's been developing this wonderful new relationship while his children and wife go about their normal lives. Imagine in the space of a few weeks having to rethink your whole life - past, present and future.  And rethink the lives of your children. Reevaluate every single thing. Will you have to sell your house? Move your kids? How can your husband just walk away from your life together? What, you can't imagine your spouse ever doing that to you? Well, neither could I so give me some time to fucking digest it. 

*Tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment for the continuing saga of the kidney stone. If they don't operate, I am prepared to take matters into my own hands and find the sharpest knife I have. It couldn't hurt any more than what I've already been through. 

The Softball Game

My kids haven't seen nor talked to their dad in a week and a half. Tonight he came to my daughter's softball game. I looked behind me and there he was. 'Hi,' I said, surprised.  'Hi,' he said casually, 'how are you?' I have a fucking kidney stone and you're divorcing me, how the hell do you think I am, I wanted to scream but since I was surrounded by other parents I said fine. 

My six year old son was playing with some friends and they were running around near us. I saw my son notice his father but he didn't come over. My daughter came off the field and her eyes swept over me and then saw her father but she just sat on the bench, no movement to greet or acknowledge him. In the past, I would have encouraged the kids to say hi to Daddy but I really don't feel that it's my job to be the shepherd of everything now. My husband is an adult (well, physically, mentally I believe he's on par with a 13-year old.) I believe it is up to him to cultivate his own relationship with our kids. 

At one point during the game, my son came running over to me and jumped on my lap. He hugged me and gave me a kiss and then he stood up and looked at his father. I swear to God if my child looked at me that way, I would have fallen to the ground in agony. My son looked at him like he was a stranger and walked by him. My husband reached out to tickle him and my son giggled and then went off with his friends. A week and a half of no contact and there's just a tickle and a giggle? I'm starting to feel sick and it's not because of the 7mm stone in my ureter. 

In the second inning my 9-year old daughter left the field and said she didn't feel well. She had diarrhea in her pants. My daughter has stomach issues and is fragile. Was it just coincidence that her father was there and this happened? I don't know but the last time he came to a game she struck out and had a fit and refused to go back on the field. This time we left the game early. 

We walked to the car and loaded up the kids. My husband asked if he could have a hug from my daughter and she gave him one. He said to me, 'Do you want some help? I can come back to the house.' 'No, we're fine,' I said. 'Let me know if you need anything,' he said. Should I be happy he offered? Should I take him up on it? I don't know. I struggle with how this is supposed to work. I'm sick and I'm tired and I'm sad and I want to lean on someone. But he's the man that left me and the man that I blame for doing this to our kids. If I never had to see him again, I would consider that the best gift ever. But I have to somehow figure out how to make this work for my kids and I'm lost. I really don't know how much is my responsibility anymore or how much is my co-dependency and my need to fix and control everything. 

I believe my kids look to me for their behavior. Are they acting cold because they see me acting impersonal with their father? How the hell can I not act impersonal with the man who told his girlfriend that he 'loved her luscious lips'? Seriously, can I wipe that fucking statement from my mind, I wish I had never seen that. If there's a drug to unread something, I'll be the first in line for the prescription.

Last night I was telling the kids goodnight and I said they were my everything and I loved them. My son looked at me and said 'you, me, Diddy and Rosie are enough.' (He calls my daughter Diddy, cutest thing ever. And Rosie is our dog.) Is my 6-year old trying to reassure me that even without a Dad living here, that we're okay? Or am I giving too much credit to a kindergartener? I don't know but I am still convinced that my son is already a better man/person than my husband ever was or will be. 

To The Father Of My Children

I've been reading a lot on what sometimes happens to the father - child relationship after divorce. The withdrawal that occurs when the father moves out and the children see him less and less. I know you will blame me for this too, just like I'm to blame for everything else. I will not badmouth you to our children (only my friends get the pleasure of that), I won't be a part of our kids thinking any less of you than they already do. You've done a good enough job yourself sabotaging your relationship with them. No matter how many times I reassure them that none of this is their fault I can still see their confusion because Daddy walked out the door. How can a 6 and 9 year old understand such a grown up concept when I can't even understand it myself? 

I hope every time you look at the faces of our children a small piece of you dies because you can see the reflection of a selfish and weak man in their eyes. Divorce happens every day but I don't believe many divorces happen with such a blindsiding force to the children like ours did. I don't even remember the last time we fought before you confessed your affair. You were too busy leading your own life at that point and I was too busy doing everything to even notice. Life will move on for all of us but it shatters my heart to realize that our children had such a short childhood where everything was comforting and stable and whole. 

I hope every time the kids are at a school function and they wish their parents were still together that you are physically ill and brought to your knees wherever you are. I hope the void in your heart (please let there be one) after doing this to your children is never filled. 

Even at this early stage the kids come home and they don't ask about you. You haven't been there in the past few years and the kids have gotten used to that. They don't know that you strung so many lies together, if you were Pinocchio, your nose would stretch around the world five times. They can sense, though, that they don't come first with you and it's been that way for a long time. You can't be neglected week after week and not recognize that even if you are only 6 and 9. It's Mommy this and Mommy that and it pretty much always has been. 

And you're right with those words that you screamed at me when you were trying to justify your affair - the kids WILL think what they want of you and that will be no one's making except your own. I won't tell the kids that Dad left because his own happiness meant more to him than they do. If they ask I will say that Daddy made his own choices and we all have to deal with those choices that we make. 

I'm glad that you agreed to the every other weekend visitation because at this point I don't think the kids could take the blow of being away from the one person who has been their rock. Maybe I do think too highly of myself and put myself on that pedestal, another thing you screamed at me, but there's no doubt that I am the better parent and our children deserve that. The better parent. I'm sure you would  yell at me again that I make you feel bad about yourself. And again that's a bed that you've made for yourself, I just shake the sheets. Our kids deserve to be with the person that makes them feel secure, the person that shows up when she says, the person who attends every school event, the person that they know always has and will put them first. And that person is me. 

You have a lot of making up to do to our children. Almost three years of never putting them ahead of yourself is a long time. The year deployment wasn't your fault but when you returned home you didn't try to make up for lost time. You just created more lost time and chose to leave the children whenever you could. The every other weekend schedule is probably more time than you spent with them when you were physically living here. I hope you make the most of it and start making memories with our children because as the digital photo frame scrolls through the moments of our lives from the last few years, I see the kids, myself and friends and family but I don't see you and that's just fricking sad. 

                               

Operation Kidney Stone

Yesterday I had my consultation with the doctor. I was counting the hours, literally, because I was up all night writhing in pain. Kidney stones are not for the weak hearted. Once the doctor saw my scan and the amount of pain I was in, he immediately scheduled surgery to put a stent in to relieve the backed up urine and to shore up the ureter, where the stone is lodged. (I'm not a doctor nor do I play one on tv so anything that I say is just my understanding through my pain-filled perspective.) I've never had surgery before, never been put under general anesthesia so I was a little worried. If I didn't wake up, who would take care of my kids? Would their father step up or would my mother get them? I forced myself to not think about it and then they gave me some 'relaxing bug juice' and all I could think about was that I was in my own personal episode of Grey's Anatomy and please God, let me find my own McDreamy or McSteamy. The last thing I remember is being wheeled into the OR and I was scanning every mask-covered face looking for Karev. The next thing I knew I heard someone saying to get my mother and I opened my eyes and the nurse said it's all done. Really? That's amazing. 

After a little time in the recovery room, I was released. The horrible pain in my stomach is almost gone and is replaced by a bearable pain down lower. It feels like I had a straw shoved up my vagina, which, in my limited understanding of a stent, is pretty much accurate. My husband texted me yesterday evening and asked if my daughter had a ballgame. First contact from him in four days. No, her game was cancelled, I texted, and by the way I had surgery. He said he thought it was just a consultation and I said it was supposed to be but the doctor decided to do something immediately. My husband asked if it helped with the pain and I said it did. And then the conversation was over. Strange thing, this business of divorce. Married to someone for fifteen years and I don't even get a 'feel bad for you, hope you're better soon' response? I've been through surgery and could have died (yes, I am being melodramatic) and I don't even get a 'what can I do to make it all better'?

Activate hurt feelings again because that's how I feel. My mom has done everything for the kids and I and my husband has done nothing. Maybe it's not really his fault because I haven't asked him to do anything nor will I. He certainly isn't my favorite person right now and trust him I do not (said in my best Yoda impersonation). 

     

                                

Any Chump Lady Fans?

A letter that I sent to Chump Lady was featured on her site today. Check it out.

 * Kidney stone pain is worse tonight than it's been all along. I'm looking longingly at every sharp object in the kitchen wishing I could remove the offensive stone myself. Luckily my mother has gone to bed because I'm sure seeing her 39-year old daughter crying would be a real downer.

The Family Stone

It's amazing how something that you worried so much over can end up being so anticlimactic. This week we had our first divorce court meeting. (Sounds like a bad tv show doesn't it?) It was to establish temporary child rights and responsibilities and child support. I let myself get into a real mass of nerves over this. I thought my husband might fight for 50/50 custody of the kids or even full custody and I imagined having to call in character witnesses to confirm why I should have the kids most of the time. I visualized parading the school principal and teachers in front of the court to attest what a wonderful parent I am. That was last week though. This week all I could think about was finding a way out of going since my stomach hurts so damn bad. 

Since I am more or less consumed by the kidney stone, the court meeting ended up being just a bothersome blip on my pain radar. My lawyer took care of everything and my husband agreed to everything that I asked for. I have full custody of the kids and he sees them one night every other weekend - which won't start until June 1 to give him time to 'get his new apartment' set up. The old me, the one without a needle stabbing her in the gut constantly, would have worried about that being three weeks away and is he just not going to see them for a while? Or will he just text me out of the blue and say he wants to pop over? But feeling so crappy has made me realize you only have so much room in your mind for worry. Right now the worry of the divorce is shoved to the side as I deal with hibernating on the couch because it hurts too much to move around. My mother is staying with me and is chauffeuring the kids around to all their sporting events so that life still goes on for them. I worry about how long the nausea will be gone so I can eat something without throwing it back up. I worry about how long the pain meds will make me comfortable and how many times I'll wake up in the middle of the night wanting to curl into a ball. I no longer worry about why my husband wasn't happy enough here with our children and myself. At this point, all I care about is getting this annoying kidney stone out so the kids and I can participate in the business of living again instead of being stuck in a holding pattern. 

* As a sidenote, my husband never even texted me to say Happy Mother's Day. Should I have expected him to? I don't know but I did and my feelings are hurt. Thanks Asshole, adding that to your lengthy résumé for husband/father of the year. 

You Can't Live Here Anymore

Don't you just hate it when your husband cheats on you for a year, says he wants a divorce, moves out into his own crappy apartment and then you keel over (not from emotion but from pain) because you have a kidney stone the size of a boulder making its home in your ureter. Fuck, yeah, that hurts. The only thing more painful than an unwanted divorce is an unwanted kidney stone. For those that are into competition, my stone is 7mm. My cute doctor said it was quite impressive. So impressive that the chances of passing it are equal to my husband and I reconciling. So...I am scheduled for surgery on May 14. I've never had any type of surgery before. Two childbirths and that's it, I've been low maintenance, my insurance company loves me. Well, after 8 hours in the ER and a surgery, they're going to know my name. 

I'm not even nervous at all. If I had to go to surgery right now, I'd roll my way in the fetal position to get there. That's how much this hurts, even on pain medicine. If I lay down and curl into a ball and very carefully don't move for four hours, the pain does dull down. Hey kids, hey work, I'm going to be curled like a cute little hedgehog on the couch for the next five days. You're on your own, okay? And work, please keep sending me that paycheck even though I've only been making guest appearances lately. 

I blame my kidney stone on my husband. It has to be his fault somehow. 

Sometimes Life Gives You A Sign

I've still been wearing my wedding band. A desire to hold on to the past or not wanting to answer questions if people notice it's missing? I'll let you mull that over because I'm not sure myself. 

Well, sometimes life gives you a sign that it's time to let go. When I was taking off my glove at my daughter's softball game yesterday, my ring got snagged somehow. I pulled the glove off and my wedding band broke. WTF, that happens? I hadn't even noticed it was wearing down and getting close to the breaking point. (What an apt metaphor for my marriage, right?) I'm still wearing the ring and every time it spins a little off center on my finger, I can feel its rough edges. 

Tonight I'm laying in the ER. Those stomach problems got the best of me and I had to finally give in to the pain. I had to take my children with me and unfortunately it is a wicked busy evening in the ER. Broken arms, congestive heart failure, banged up children, chronically ill looking people. A few sobbing, a few looking like they are one step away from Heaven's gates. Not a place that I want my children to see right now especially when mom is telling them that she's not feeling well. Fortunately my husband answered my text and he came and retrieved the kids and even ruffled my hair and asked if there was anything I needed. Since he was being nice, I refrained from answering 'an honorable husband '. Score one for an amicable divorce. Let the testing commence on my ailing gut. 

Sick Day

Apparently feeling like crap and wanting to gouge out your own innards supersedes any emotions over a painful and unwanted divorced. Confirmations that I feel horrible - I slept for 7 hours during the day yesterday, 8 hours last night, I have no desire to go on the web and look at divorce blogs, I haven't fantasized about killing my husband once and the taste of my one addiction (soda) turns my stomach.

Putting (dragging) one foot in front of the other because life carries on even if you just want to curl up in a ball and hide in a cave like Gollum.

Finding Your Happiness

When I'm feeling blue, I like to imagine my husband looking for his happiness. Is it in his crappy apartment? (I actually haven't been in his apartment, I just visualize it being on par with a college frat house, beer posters and all.) Is his happiness with his skanky whore? Is it under the table that we would have thrown out but we were too lazy and now it's found space in my husband's home? Is it under the scratched up coffee table that he took with him? All likely places for happiness.

I know where his happiness wasn't - with the wife that told him 4,875 times that she just wanted him to be happy so by all means take that bike ride, visit that friend. His happiness didn't reside with his two children who can bring a tear to my eye just by slipping their hands in mine and saying I love you mommy. His happiness wasn't with the big fluffy dog that he didn't want who greets him joyfully at the door and jumps up ecstatically on him trying to shower his face with kisses as he wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her fur. (I know he likes her.) His happiness wasn't in the home that displays photos of our kids on every wall, their presence apparent in every room, a toy here, a toy there, a stray sock under the bench. His happiness didn't exist among our shared friends, our intertwined families.

Since my happiness resides in all of these places, I must accept that he really did me a favor by walking away*. Our happinesses don't align, and I bet he will always be on the eternal search for his and I'm the lucky one, I've already found my happiness.


*I still fucking hate him though. Especially since I believe I have food poisoning and had to walk around hunched over to make the kids supper. Then laying on the couch and bemoaning how sick I was, my son asked if he should get the puke bucket for me. I love my kids.

Irony At Its Finest

My husband couldn't walk across the room without asking me for directions while we were married. He's Mr Man of Action when he wants out though. Got a lawyer and filed the divorce papers behind my back. He actually filled out a change of address form too. I'm shocked he even knows what the post office is. I don't believe he ever mailed a bill the whole time we've been married. I have to admit that it stung a little to get the change of address confirmation in the mail. Was it hurt? No, I think it was bitterness that he was so fucking unmotivated when we were married, he let me do everything. Who knows what he will accomplish next? Wrapping a Christmas present? Packing one of the kid's lunches?

Let me paint a picture for you. Around 17 years ago my father in law cheated on my mother in law for years, I mean YEARS. They got a divorce and my husband hasn't seen his father for about five or six years. (You lose track after a while.) He's maybe talked to him twice during that time. My husband's sister still has a semi-relationship with her father so she told him about my husband's cheating heart. My father in law got angry and asked how could he do that, that's horrible! I can only imagine the WTF in my sister in law's voice when she said, 'Dad, you did the same thing!'

'But you kids were older,' he reasoned, 'not little! And I'm not even sure I made the right decision back then.' So I guess there's a certain age that your kids should be before you commit adultery and rip your family apart. And it doesn't always turn out happily ever after. I wish my father in law had shared the Cheaters handbook with my husband. One more reason why I'm very disappointed in my father in law.

My dad came today to mow my lawn. 68 years old and he's pushing a mower because he feels bad for me since my husband ran off to find his happiness. Hate for my husband ran high today. 'What does your husband want out of life?' my dad asked. 'He had a good wife, two great kids, a new house.' To hear my father call me a good wife is amazing. He barely could remember my name growing up. For the first few years of my life I thought I was a southerner and had a string of three names - Sally Sara Kay. My mom's, my sister's, and my name all merged together. Who knew my father would be the hero in the seriocomedy of my life right now.

My father (and my husband) are both prejudiced against African Americans. My father is a small town New Englander, old and ignorant, that's not a pass to be prejudiced, of course, but he's my Dad. My husband on the other hand is just a racist asshole. My father said to me as he was leaving, 'I hope when your husband comes over one day, your boyfriend answers the door and he's 7 feet tall and HE'S BLACK.' And then he laughed maniacally for a long time. Yup, my dad really does love me and he REALLY hates my husband.

And I'm not prejudiced by the way. I work in Human Resources at a college. Doesn't get more diverse than that. And I'd love to date a black man. I have my eye on one right now. Donny Marshall (announcer for the Celtics). I used to teasingly call him my boyfriend and it would drive my husband crazy. Must be he was the only one allowed to have an alternative significant other while we were married. Donny, call me when my divorce is final. If you're married, skip it though, because I don't roll that way. I'll just keep drooling over my tv.

A Playlist For The Betrayed

Also known as the soundtrack for your fucked up life

Shattered - O.A.R.
A Little Bit Stronger - Sara Evans
Jar of Hearts - Christina Perri
A Thousand Years (just to torture yourself) - Christina Perri
Mama's Broken Heart - Miranda Lambert
Not Over You (haha just kidding to see if any one was paying attention) - Gavin DeGraw
Drive By - Train
Because of You - Kelly Clarkson & Reba McEntire
Forget You (clean version. I have kids.) - Cee Lo Green
Just Give Me A Reason - Pink
You Oughta Know - Alanis Morissette
I Fucking Hate You - Godsmack (thanks for the recommendation happy haus)
I'm Moving On - Rascal Flatts
You Give Love A Bad Name - Bon Jovi

Put them on your iPod and play them repeatedly, in your car, vacuuming, taking a crap, in the shower. You will heal in about 5 years. I promise.

Any other suggestions?

M-Day

Nope, M-Day isn't Monday. It's an even worse day. Moving Out Day. Not wanting to go home day. Not wanting to talk to the kids about missing furniture day. So yesterday my husband pulled up to the house in a u-Haul with his sister who would be helping him move out pieces of my life. Thankfully that was the only woman to arrive with him. The girlfriend didn't want to see his previous residence I guess. Or maybe she envisioned me jumping out of a closet with a knife and stabbing her. (I actually don’t believe my husband is that much of an asshole to bring his girlfriend to his old neighborhood but I also didn't think he was the kind of person to take a photo of his man parts and send them to various women so I might be thinking of the man that I previously knew.)

I wonder if my husband had a happy skip in his walk to be vacating the home where his children live. He’s, after all, on his course to find happiness so why wouldn't he be joyful about taking another step in that journey? Maybe he had some nostalgia as he walked through the rooms that he used to live in. The rooms that were littered with his children’s things. He didn't take much with him. A dresser, an end table. He texted me (I was at work) if he could have the ‘love’ seat. The ‘love’ seat. The irony kills me. I imagine the kids walking into the living room and seeing the empty space where the love seat was and I want to send some poison along with my response. ‘Yes, you can have the ‘out of love’ seat,’ I wanted to respond, but instead I just said, ‘Fine, take it.’ He took some stuff from the basement, mostly odds and ends. Tired old furniture that we just hadn't had a chance to sell or bring to the dump.

He took the tall toolbox with all of the tools. I have a 2,300 sq ft house and he’s got a 2-bedroom apartment but I guess if you have a penis you get custody of the tools. I dreaded telling the kids all day that they would see that some things were missing when they got home. I picked them up after school and we went to my daughter’s softball game. My husband showed up and my son casually waved and walked by him to play with a friend. Awkwardly I stood on the sidelines keeping score while my husband awkwardly sat in his chair removed from the rest of the crowd. My daughter struck out and had a fit. Refused to go back on the field. My husband tried to reason with her to no avail. Finally after delaying the game for a little while, she slowly crept back onto the field as everyone stared at her and us trying to cajole her to play. Good times.

After the game, my husband walked us back to the car. He kissed the kids goodbye and that was it. Off we went to our separate residences. I dreaded telling the kids that Daddy had officially moved out but I forced myself to do it. What did he take, they asked? I listed a few things. And then I said, ‘If you’re feeling sad or angry or confused about any of this, you can talk to Mommy.’ My daughter said, ‘You’re feeling sad, you’re already crying.’ (Yes, I was.) I said, ‘It’s okay to cry, it’s a big change.’ Then I said again, ‘If you’re feeling sad or angry, I want you to tell Mommy. If you’re thinking about it, I want you to talk to Mommy.’ My son says, ‘I don’t think about it.’ Okay, you’re 6, I’ll give you a pass on any deep thoughts about what it means when your father moves out.

When we got home, the kids thought it was great fun running from room to room, excitedly yelling what was missing. Taking inventory of what was left. A scavenger hunt for children of the divorcing. (The house didn't look much different at all so it was kind of anti-climactic. I was relieved but a little disappointed. Why isn't this harder?) The kids go into the basement and yell out, Daddy took this, Daddy took that. I start to get upset as I hear them talking about Daddy’s guitars being gone. Then I hear my daughter yell, “It looks so much better down here!” God, I love my practical kids.

The only really hard moment was when my daughter remembers that she had made my husband a picture to give to him when he moves out. “I will miss you a lot. I love you,” it said. My heart bleeds a little at lost innocence. My kids seem to be doing fine (unless they are bottling it up inside). Why am I the one struggling here? Because I’m the betrayed spouse? Because my pride is hurt? Because I feel like I’m the one left to figure everything out and be the nurturer to ensure that our children are okay? After thinking about this for a while, I checked my email. My mom had sent me a message asking ‘Has what’s his name moved out yet?’ My mom is a borderline saint and to think of her being so worked up in a tizzy and angrily typing those words almost makes me giggle. I’m thinking about calling my husband Voldemort now. “The One Who Must Not Be Named”.

Ignorance Is Bliss...Only It's Really Not

I was reading an article on a news site about a woman whose husband blindsided her with divorce. Someone commented, ‘for some people ignorance is bliss.... they live their lives oblivious to what is happening to their marriage.’

Why the hell are people so freaking callous when it comes to divorce? If someone dies, do they say 'well, you knew it would happen sometime?' Divorce is the death of all your hopes, dreams and happiness at that point in your life (well, unless you’re the cheater and then you’re fine with moving on to your Plan B hopes, dream and happiness.)

My response to this person was -

Ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance is trusting your husband and viewing him through your own moral compass. If I couldn't imagine myself cheating, then I didn't think he was capable of it either. Ignorance is trying to make your seemingly depressed husband happy for two years after he returned from Afghanistan only to discover that he started an affair shortly after he returned. Ignorance is taking care of your children and working a full time job while your husband gallivants off to his 'friend's house' or away on his motorcycle and you wave to him as he drives away because you just want him to be happy. Ignorance is going out to supper with your husband and then having him say "we have to talk" and he drops his bomb that explodes your whole family. You see your whole life and the lives of your children pass before your eyes. Yes, I probably should have seen the signs if I had been looking or if I had done research. But who researches an affliction that you never thought you had? Ignorance is most definitely not bliss.

I Wish I Knew How To Quit You

Naming this post what I did gave me a certain juvenile giggle. (Any Brokeback Mountain fans out there?) My husband is a big homophobe. I think that's almost a requirement if you're in the military. Are they worried passion will overtake a gay guy in the midsts of battle and he's going to crawl into their sleeping bags? I don't know, but most military men that I've met are quite fierce in their distaste for homosexuality.

Going through a divorce fills you with melancholy. Holy shit, that stuff is deadly. Tonight as I was climbing the stairs I swore I could smell my husband's aftershave. This was really striking to me because he never really wore any. What the hell am I missing? The smell of him? And then it occurred to me that I will never hear him snoring again and I got a little sad. Seriously, you know you're romanticizing your previous relationship if you think you're going to miss your husband's snoring.

Okay, what other crazy crap am I going to dream up that I will miss? Watching Fox News or The Military Channel every night? I rarely got the remote and if I did, my husband would disappear upstairs to his computer or the other tv. God forbid, we watch a show I was actually interested in.

Will I miss an extra towel hanging in the bathroom? His shoes next to mine in the mudroom? How about his dirty coffee cup on the counter? His clothes in the closet? His car in the garage?

How do you force yourself to stop brooding with melancholy? Snap a rubber band on your wrist? Squirt yourself with a spray bottle? Incessantly think about each one until you're rolled into a fetal position on the floor? What I've done is create a new normal. Fill up the voids. The empty towel hook now holds a hand towel. The mudroom is overflowing with the kids' shoes which previously had been tucked away. My clothes have taken over the whole closet. The kids' bikes are now in his bay of the garage.

Any spot or space that I had been subconsciously saving for him is now filled. There's no room for him here now. Maybe there's still a little space for melancholy but I might go and buy myself some perfume and fill the house with the scent of me because what I'm missing is a figment of my imagination, just like the phantom cologne.