One Year Ago This Weekend

One year ago I returned from a girl's weekend getaway, several hours earlier than expected.

Mr. Gone said, "Oh, you're back early" without looking at me and went back to his computer game while the kids played video games.

He ignored me the rest of the afternoon.

After the kids were in bed I pressed him to tell me what was wrong. He didn't want to, but finally said, "I like and respect you but I haven't been in love with you for a long time." My life fell apart.

Looking back, I think there was someone else. Several someone elses. There was one affair I suspected around the time #2 was born. Why else would a married man with two small kids go and spend precious weekend time with another woman? And I think he had a fling during his high school reunion. The weirdness and wrong feeling really started then. I think it was guilt.

How much responsibility do I have?

I could have pushed for counseling sooner.

I went through my own perimenopausal crisis, and a couple of SAHM years that sucked. Multiple small kids, grinding monotony, and continuous uncertainty about whether daddy was coming home that night or being shipped off on a two week overseas business trip. I was not happy. But I had come through that to the other side. Made peace with my partner's faults. He was never going to see the dirty dishes in the sink, or underwear and kleenex on the floor. But that was OK, because I loved him for his good and bad parts together.

I let him get away with putting me and the family very last behind his job. I resented his work. The late nights, the missed holidays, the phone calls during dinner where he would turn from daddy to a-hole in front of my eyes. The work paid for the dinner, and the roof over our heads. A choice I made, and that I let him make.

I dismissed his ideas. Rent out the house and live overseas for a year? No. The packing and prep would all fall to me, and I don't really want to live in the middle east.
Buy an investment property and become landlords? No. We SUCK at maintenance. We had no spare time. At least, HE had no spare time and it would have fallen to me, like so many other projects.
Move closer to his office? I found a couple of houses. He didn't like them. I told him to look. He found houses we couldn't afford. No, really, a mortgage that's 50 % of your gross income is a bad move. Really. Really. And then he told me I didn't understand money and real estate was a smart investment.

Mostly, I let him get away with being absent. Emotionally. Physically. When I tried to bring him back, I always backed off so he wouldn't accuse me of being clingy. I worked on myself but didn't urge him enough to work on himself.

But in the end, can we change other people? No. Only ourselves.

So that's how I got to where I was a year ago. Self justifying, maybe. The universal reaction, though, has been, "He's going through a midlife crisis." From my friends. Our mutual friends. Acquaintances. Neighbors.

Next time, the past year in review.

Love Letters

Sorting through old photos and cards last night and today. I have a whole stack of pictures of big happy family, and no sign in his face that he was ready to bolt. The love letters are more interesting: gushing or thoughtful early on and through the first few years of marriage, then minimal or absent after baby #1 arrived, usually a storebought card with a few words scribbled.

I think he couldn't handle being a dad.

He's Disneyland Dad now but it spares him the burden of having conversations with them when they're mesmerized by electrons.

I pulled out a bunch of photos for him. Too many baby pictures of everyone anyway; I kept the best (hey, I'm the family photographer and I'm doing the scut work here) and gave him the ones with him and the duplicates.

I'm considering what to do with the love letters. Every other breakup I've given them back.

I could
1) Shred them and recycle
2) Give them back now
3) Give them back when papers are served or the divorce is final
4) Burn them (maybe a New Year's Eve bonfire?)

He told me he loved me. In writing. Repeatedly. And that he'd love me forever. That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.

Doing better, and moving on.

Hardball with Lawyers?

Visited a cutthroat divorce lawyer who doesn't give free consults.

She recommended mediation with counsel. Wants to help me screw him in every possible way.

DO I really want to go after him? Do I want to go after him before he goes after me? Do I want to make nice? Do I want to hurt him as badly as he's hurt me? Or do I want to take the high road?

I generally aspire to be a high road kind of a person, just have so much anger right now.

So Far Away

Started the split up discussions.

My body clock is totally shot. I'm falling asleep at 7 pm on the sofa and waking up at 3 AM.

So worried about money. This is going to take us from comfortably middle class towards the poverty line. This house is too big for me to take care of by myself, and needs so many repairs we now will not be able to afford. Not sure if going back to school is possible.
I'm losing not just financial support but the support of an adult who cares for me, who "has my back." I'm feeling so alone.

I'm grateful that I have a brain.

I'm grateful that I have a roof over my head.

I had food to eat today, and food in the pantry for at least a week.

I've been poor and frugal in the past, I can do it again. I feel whiny about losing my middle class privileges. Poor baby, she has to cancel her gym membership and netflix.

But I don't feel like I live that large. The luxuries I spend on really make life fun and worthwhile for me, and the kids. I don't own any Prada purses. I get to the spa maybe once a year. I wear LL Bean, and Coldwater Creek when it's on sale. The kids don't do that many activities; they just like pricey activities like pottery and gymnastics.

Thinking about options: renting out rooms, part time jobs (retail, music teacher, barista . . .) the head is whirling around. Not enough hours in the day to watch the kids, take care of the house, work AND go back to school.

This too shall pass. I don't know that I deserved it; I tried to be a good and loving partner and mom.