Silence is Not Always Golden.

I have sources that I am not willing to divulge now regarding some of the things that my X is doing. The reason that I cannot just “move on” regarding his life is because I am always looking for information to dispute the many lies that my X is attempting regarding our divorce.

One of the things that I have been hearing from one of my sources about is that my X has been disparaging the new girlfriend behind her back for a while now. They only moved in together the beginning of this year, at least, that is when they made it official.

Not soon after that, his complaints had already started.

I actually do feel kind of sorry for her, because I also know from other sources that she is completely oblivious to it. I feel that he makes sure of that by still playing the romantic game to her.

She moved to Hawaii in the beginning of October.  She is apparently under the impression that she is setting up the nest for the someday pending divorce.  I had gotten word through my attorney that my X wanted to settle quickly in September but neither my attorney nor I have heard anything since.

I have also heard that he is celebrating that the girlfriend is gone and his expression is “good riddance”.

But who knows how that will pan out. I know my X likes to keep all of his options open.

I was a very difficult and demanding girlfriend in the start. I did this on purpose. My intent was to show my worst. I even refused to move to Hawaii with him. Everybody thought I was crazy to miss out on such an exotic opportunity.  Lucky for me that I was not interested back then. I cannot even imagine how much more isolated I would have felt being on an island!  Somehow not conceding to his wishes seemed to keep our relationship running better than when I let all my defenses down and started to be nice and considerate.

So some people’s first impression of me was that I was the “undeserving girlfriend”

Our courtship lasted for a few years. It was first a long distance relationship and eventually we moved in together. Back then he was still on his very best behavior.

He always acted as though he was so proud of me and who I was. He would brag to anyone who would listen to him about me. I cannot tell you how many times his proud words about me came back to me.

Everyone who met him said that he could not stop talking about me. They all loved him and they thought I was so lucky to find someone who appreciated me so much.

Things did not start to change until after we were married and it was gradual. We had a few decent years in the beginning. Who knows how decent they actually were? After all, emotional abuse was a more familiar feeling to me than it was to most people. It was how I grew up. The basic red flags for a normal person would be considered normal behavior to me.

There were still lots of gifts, lots of time together going out, trips, flowers, romantic letters and gestures of love and passion. So it all looked good on the outside. Everyone was amazed at what a thoughtful and loving husband I had.

I was definitely swept up in the romance and trying to maintain that “special bond”.  At least that was what everyone was telling me that I had.  Now I understand that I have an abnormally high tolerance to chaotic relationships and I had very little sense of my own self.

Everybody thought he was such a great guy. What would I know? I was the person that could not even get along with my own mother.  So many years I endured the acceptance that I was the difficult person. That is what I was taught growing up.

My X was the talkative charismatic type and I was the quiet reserved type. I was never a believer of airing my dirty laundry to other people. I felt that it was something that I needed to deal with my husband.

My silence worked against me, because I thought I was keeping our matters private. I did not think it was right to disparage my husband to others. I realize now that my X thought otherwise and aired his version of our “dirty laundry” to anyone that listened. He was the victim that was being taken horrible advantage of. I was the nasty, undeserving, “never happy” wife.

I remembered that I had always felt that friends and acquaintances looked at me with suspicion. There was always a feeling gnawing in my gut that something was askew, but that feeling was always over-ridden by my feelings that I was “less than”.

I believed that I was unable to get along with anyone.  The only time that I remember when I was happy was when I lived on my own.

My self- image and propensity to keep to myself was the perfect storm for my X to play the victim to our mutual friends and family. I see now that my X probably garnered lots of sympathy from mutual friends and family that I was a difficult wife. So many people were more drawn to him.

I had always felt a distance to most of our mutual friends. But feeling distant to people was not an unfamiliar feeling to me. I still thought it was just me, I was different. Now I think I realize why many of those treated me with suspicion.

God only knows when his stories started. I look back now and I feel that this may have been going on for most of our relationship. I have come to this conclusion now, especially since I hear how he is treating the new girlfriend.

He always loved looking like the hero/ martyr.

Maybe this explains the indifference that I felt from many of our mutual friends. Some of them were outwardly cruel to me. There were times that some of their treatment of me brought me to tears. I was bullied.

I was also bullied as a child. I remember attempting to go to my mother for comfort. In her anger she had told me it was my fault.  She told me that I deserved it because of the kind of person I was and what I looked like. My mother was embarrassed of me and the negative attention that I garnered.

I had no one to turn to.

So during my entire childhood, I endured all the tauntings and bullying  on my own, in silence. I was too ashamed to tell anyone.  Eventually the bullying stopped and I started to make friends as I grew older. Looking back, I seem to remember that time that the bullying subsided, correlated with my rebellion against my mother.  Coincidence? IDK

So when the adult bullying came, I just thought that I deserved it. When I confided in my X about how hurt I was about specific incidences that occurred, he defended his friends instead of me. It was a familiar response to things that only hurt me. I just kept the pain to myself.

I am even crying now at this pain. At least now I am getting it out.

I am no longer silent.


Becoming a Mom

I never wanted to become a mom, nor a wife for that matter. I thought I was going to end up being that old scary woman who lived down the street in the run down house with about 20 cats. And I was ok with that.

Well I am old now and my house is pretty run down. I don’t have any cats though. There are too many coyotes here who love to munch on cats and I think it is cruel to keep cats indoors only. That is just me. Instead my son and I live together in this house that is quickly getting run down as the years pass and no money to pay for the maintenance.

During my free spirited single days, I avoided getting pregnant like the plague. I remember when friends would have babies and I had to go to the socially mandatory baby showers and “viewings”. I would watch all the women gather round the new baby or the pregnant mom and get all clucky. I would just sit in the background and smile silently. I felt absolutely vacant inside. I did not get it.

When I got pregnant with my son, I was terrified. I thought that I had nothing to offer a child, let alone provide for it. I also was terrified that I would become the same mother as my mother was to me.

In high school, I had been traumatized by something my sociology teacher said. After all of these years, I still can remember him saying that we end up pretty much parenting the same way our parents did. I carried that information with me until I got pregnant. It is amazing how much a piece of such insignificant information can have so much impact on some one’s life, but it did. I was horrified that I would verbally beat my child down the same way that it happened to me.

With the option of easily disposing of this “problem”, I would be a liar to say that I did not consider it. I was that scared and it would have been such an easy and quick solution to avoid that unknown road ahead.

I kept asking myself as to why I was so terrified? Women have been doing this since the beginning of time.  And why would I think that I am any less than all of those that went before me? Some women take pregnancy so casually and yet I was so serious and so scared.

There was no reason for my fears. I had a new husband, (he seemed like he liked children at least other people’s children) and a new home. I had finally gotten my B.A. (way too many years of intermittent school). Most of all, my biological clock was about to stop ticking, I was 41 years old.

If I could have postponed another 10 or 20 years, I may have. But probably not, and that is because I had already made that choice before.  I still silently mourn that. It is an ache in me that has never gone away.  Even now I am too ashamed to admit to the choice that I made (except for blogging here anonymously). Nobody ever warns you about it when you make that “right to choose”.

After giving birth to my son, I had the biggest epiphany of my entire life. So much love, that I never knew I had in me, gushed forth. I realized that I had discovered something so profound in my life that not even once had I considered that it ever existed. I finally got it. My life had taken on a whole new meaning. It was as though I had found the “missing link” in my life.

I found something that I did not even know I was looking for.

Those little arms reaching out to me completely changed how I saw life. I may have not felt worthy of this new found love, but I knew then, I would fight to my death to protect my child who had already given me so much.

I still feel the same.

My Greatest Gift in 2014

I was going to write that not much progress has happened this year, but after reading my posts, I realize that although my life may still be considered on the bleak side now, it has improved.

In spite my many struggles, I still have made some progress. I need to acknowledge that.

I know I have one big hole to dig myself out of and no one around to help. I also have to try and carry my son out too. And that has been the most difficult part of my journey. He has been a tremendous weight on my heart and soul. I cannot be angry at him, because I know he is confused and angry. I am too.

Since day one, I have assured him that “things will get better”, and I really believed they would, in the beginning. But it has only gotten incrementally better. All of this can be overwhelming for me too. I keep trying to assure him, but as this fiasco drags on and on, he believes me less and less. I don’t blame him, but I keep forging ahead. I don’t have a choice or an alternate route to go.

As you probably have already figured, the divorce is still going on with no end in sight.

2014 started out well, but things just fell apart on the way. I thought that things were really going to turn around. My X (I am just going to start calling him my X for practical reasons, My Someday To Be X is too much to type even though that is who he is realistically) was finally paying the court ordered spousal support and I was getting more hours at the part-time job I got. Although it was not a lot of money, it felt like a windfall to me. I was finally able to afford high-speed internet and put a tank of gas in my car once a week.

Before that, I was writing on my computer at home and saving it on my flash drive and uploading everything at the library. I have lost count as to how many flash drives I left at the library. They all had personal info, divorce info, and even Social Security numbers. This is another issue that I will have to deal with somewhere in the future.  It is just not a priority now.  As far as the gas, I was almost always running on empty. I cannot tell you how wonderful it feels to be secure with more than a half a tank of gas to drive around in. I am still careful about where I drive, but I can get out a little more.

I brought a roommate in. She was someone I sort of knew around town. She was team mom for a football team that her son and my son played on in middle school. Through the years I would occasionally run into her around town and we would always say “let’s get coffee” but it never happened. I had run into her again in 2013 and told her about my divorce.

At the end of 2013, she called and said that she and her son had fallen on hard times and asked if she and her son could come and stay in my spare room. It was the holidays so how could I say no? I told her that when she got a job, she could start paying rent. She agreed.

It was nice to have the company when she moved in, I shared my “war stories” with her and she told me about the problems of being a single mom and her problems with her mom.

I thought I had found a kindred spirit when she had complained about her mom. Her mom is a very wealthy woman and would not take her own daughter and grandson in. The way she talked about her mom, I thought, sounded like a typical narcissistic mother.  So here I am, thinking I am rescuing another victim from narcissistic abuse.

In January, she got a job. She kept telling me that she would pay “next paycheck” and she kept coming up with a vast array of excuses as to why she could not come up with any money.

Eventually I found out that the reason that she fell on “hard times” was due to narcotics. My son had warned me, because he knew her reputation around town. Naturally, I thought,  because she was a mom, that it must only be something occasional. I can be so naive at times.

Eventually I caught on, I got to see it with my own eyes, she tried to say she “was drunk”.  But even I knew better. This happened in March and I just asked her and her son to leave. That was hard because I felt bad for the son. That was the main reason that I held out for so long. But I had to think of my son.

I cleaned up the horrible mess they left behind and out of the blue, I got a phone call from someone I knew who asked if I had a room to rent.

He said it was a man and asked if that was ok. I just said that I am ok with it as long as he could pay rent and that he not partake in any sort of substances. He told me that he was a dad with 2 sons that lived with their respective moms.  I was assured that he was a good man.

And he is.

Since he moved in, it has been great to have a strong male presence around my son. He works, has his own life, and he spends a lot of time with his own sons. But lucky for me and my son, he occasionally hangs out here and spends a little time with my son. That has been a Godsend for me. He is young enough to be cool for my son, yet old enough to know better.  His guidance is only occasional, but every so often I believe that whatever words he tries to convey, they are poignant enough to penetrate my son’s confused and stubborn head.

We even have had a few soulful discussions ourselves about doing the right thing. He struggles too, supporting his own sons. Because of that, it worked out well for me. He had to take a lower paying job and he chose to not go back to court and get the child support payments reduced. He was more concerned about his kids getting adequate care, so he opted to find a cheaper place (my place). As a mom, you got to love a guy like that!

I still tend to isolate myself so it is nice to have someone around occasionally to have these conversations with. Our schedules do not coincide, but we do talk once in a while and it is always great.

And he pays rent.

Of course my X has gone back to his sporadic payments for spousal support. But with the rent money and my part-time work, I have been able to maintain my lavish lifestyle of high-speed internet and a weekly tank of gas! I even splurged for Netflix!

It may not sound like much to most. But when you have gone without these little things for a year or two, then, you really appreciate them when you get them back!

I’m Baaack!

It is been almost 10 months since I have last posted. I had to take a break because my blogging on what had happened to me was starting to drown me.

Sometimes it is just too hard for me to visit these dark spaces. It just dredges up too much sludge from those dark crevices where my emotions reside. I had to contain them before they consumed me. I felt it was time for me to ponder more on my uncertain present and future than it was to consume myself about the past.

I did not even re read my posts or read any of the blogs that I had followed. I just deleted the notifications from my email as I got them. It all became too overwhelming. I just stopped everything.

I do not know if I am still ready to come back but I am somehow compelled to return. I cannot tell you how many times I have started this post and I end up having to stop and walk away, it is usually combined with a blindingly severe headache.  It is almost like some unconscious resistance that I feel I need to overcome.

During my absence I had to take my son to the emergency to have a MRSA abscess wound lanced. Because he is now an adult (19 years old), I could not just take him. I had to beg, plead, etc., for him to understand that he needed this to be done. There was no other way for this abscess to go away which was getting noticeably worse as everyday passed.  Finally my relentless pleading, chiding, etc. sunk in and he relinquished to seek medical attention. We went to the ER.

I do not know how many of you have ever witnessed a lancing, but it is pretty gruesome. For those curious, I am sure you could Google the procedure. It is not pretty. Even with a morphine drip and plenty of local anesthetic, it is excruciatingly painful. I sat there and witnessed it as I saw the intense pain my son endured in his face. He even teared up from the pain and he is not one to cry over anything.  After letting the anesthesia take effect, the doctor takes a large about 1 ½” Exacto knife like blade and pierces the wound and penetrates the ENTIRE blade in to the wound.  And as if that not enough, then the doctor proceeds to move that penetrated blade around in circles deep within the wound.  Eventually (it seems as though forever!) the doctor withdraws the blade and with it comes a purulent pus oozing out.  After that, my son was bandaged up and the wound finally healed. Now there is only a darkened skin patch that remains as a reminder.

Not to diminish the intense pain my son had to endure, I see my need to blog again as a type of symbolic lancing. I feel that I too have to gouge my spiritual wound to release more of its purulent pus infecting my heart and psyche.

I hope a lot of you have not moved on. I miss all of you and all of your support.

I am just starting to write my next post to catch you up.