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.

Help for First Few Days Post Bomb Drop

Looking back at the first few days and weeks post Bomb Drop, here are some of the things that helped me.

First 48-72 Hours Post Bomb Drop
You've been dumped by the person you trusted and loved and vowed to. You're the walking dead. Pain pain pain pain pain. It. Hurts. So. Much. Someday it will hurt less, but you have to survive. Go into survival mode. Nest. Text your girlfriends.
Eat, whatever you can get into you, but something with calories. Drink water. Walk outside for a few minutes every day. Breathe. Get as much sleep as you can. Rescue Remedy, the economy sized bottle. BE CAREFUL not to hurt yourself falling down the stairs, in a car accident, with sharp objects. Your brain is so full that it's very easy to have an accident. Be gentle. Skip out on all responsibilities you can possibly avoid. Take a day off work, you are sick. Wallow. Order out pizza for the kids. Avoid alcohol and drugs.

72 Hours Post Bomb Drop
CYA. Cover Your Behind.
1) Mental Health: find a counselor.Friends are great, but a good counselor will help you to move forward.
2) Financial Health: get copies of EVERYTHING. Mortgage, bank statements, bills, credit card statements, retirement accounts, wills, Keep it with a friend, in a safe deposit box, somewhere other than your home.
If you have a joint account, move at least a month or two of living expenses into a savings account in your own name. This is an emergency fund. Don't spend it, but keep it for backup. Open up a checking account in your name only too, and move some money there. Keep copies of all the paperwork.
3) Find three family practice lawyers and consult with them. Organize your paperwork from step 2 before the consult. Find out what you are fairly entitled to. Lawyers are expensive, but you, especially if you have kids, are about to negotiate the biggest contract of your life. You need someone professional in your corner.
4) Disengage. No contact. You miss him and you want to see him. You want to make him change his mind. Don't do it. If he wants you he knows where to find you. You can't start healing until you let him go.

Your life has changed. It's not your fault. But you can choose how to respond, to make things better for yourself. Good luck to you.

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.

Money, Trust, and Love

If I really loved and trusted him, I would have let him make all the financial decisions. That was an end-of-days accusation. Because he knew so much more about it than I did, and I had no right to question him.
This man put his student loans on credit cards. He consistently paid bills late, once so late that we lost utilities. He said he didn't have time to get to it. I ended up being the one responsible for making sure that bills were actually paid.
Yes, he understands options, trading, and the more esoteric higher yield stuff. But you need to put in time and effort to make that work. Looking for a balance of APR and effort, I tend to pick the highest APR with minimal continued effort required on my part. And I try to save money around the house by not eating out a lot, keeping the thermostat low, not doing recreational impulse buys . . . all wrong, wrong, wrong. I talked about renting out a room in our house for extra income, NO! We were supposed to have been bold with our money and invest aggressively. And I should just TRUST HIM.
He's so worried about retiring broke. What does he think dividing households is going to do to him financially?

Not me, is it?

The excuse I got two therapy sessions ago for "why" is that I have been depressed and negative throughout our marriage.
I have a family history of depression. I have the blues. I get grouchy and critical. I am very self-critical because I tend to hold myself to high standards. I have times when my self esteem sinks. Being a stay at home mom is not good for self esteem, and is a great job to beat yourself up over. But am I depressed, clinically depressed, to the point of needing medication? I don't think so.
A friend said it was unlikely I was depressed as I was one of the most productive people she knew, and productive people are not depressed.
There are a lot of things that make me happy. Small things, mostly. Disney World a couple of years ago was fun, but expensive, loud, and I felt like I should be having the best time of my life. I probably would have preferred a smaller trip, buying a weeping cherry for the back yard, and keeping some money in the bank.
I can be negative about things. He wanted to buy some rental property. I was negative about it because of the financial risk, and because we SUCK at maintenance. We don't keep up with our own house in terms of what needs to be done. We don't have time. I can't imagine owning another property, having to rent it out and take care of it. Yes, it was a great investment, but not for us.
This article really resonated with me.


http://www.oprah.com/spirit/How-to-Find-Lasting-Happiness-Finding-Joy-That-Lasts

Self Help book of the Day: Coming Apart

So I've been hitting the self-help section at the library.
Best book so far: Coming Apart: Why Relationships End and How to Live Through the Ending of Yours by Daphne Rose Kingma.

It's short and easy to read. The section on emotional stages of separation especially hit home as I am bouncing back and forth between so many of these feelings, from the "crying all the time" to "it's his fault" to "it's my fault" and back again.

There's a workbook chapter that I intend to work through and a ceremony for saying goodbye.

Going to tell the kids this weekend.

Right now I'm gluing together some fractured pottery for him. Symbolic: he breaks things and I get to put the pieces together afterwards. And he blamed this break on someone else.
Guess right now I'm in the blame him stage.

Breathing deep. O how I wish this didn't hurt so much. I know I have to feel the pain now, or later, but O it hurts.

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.