Picked up the keys and signed the lease tonight. Moving officially starts in the morning. Can’t believe it’s finally happening.
So ready for a new chapter.
It’s been a while since I’ve written. Much as happened, and at the same time nothing has changed.
Four-ish months after I sent “the email” I sent another. Four months had gone by with nothing. No discussion. No response. In fact there was even less interaction and we have spent that time living in the same house but totally and completely separately. I continued on with my plan to save up some money and find a place and get all my ducks in a row. And I finally pulled the trigger. Three weeks ago I put the deposit down on the new apartment and told him that I was leaving, for reals. I told him that I’d contact our current landlord to let him know and that he’d need to get with him to re-do the lease. I also told him that we needed to sit down so that he could say whatever he needed to and, most importantly, we needed to sit down with our son to tell him what is going on.
It took him a day and a half to respond and he said that he was “clearly on a different stage of grief” than I was and that we’d talk to Jamison the next evening (a Wednesday). Wednesday came and he postponed for a reason that was pretty flimsy as a reason, but I let it go. I do understand that this is difficult for him and I’m not a mean person. So I let it go. He was gone the rest of that week so we pushed it to Sunday. Sunday arrived, he returned from his trip, had dinner with our son in the basement, and proceeded to fall asleep. I tried to wake him three times and he couldn’t (wouldn’t) stay awake, so I gave up.
The next day (one week from the first time) I told him again that we needed to talk to our son. It was not fair to him to keep him living in this super dysfunctional situation and not prepare him for what was coming. Yet another week went by of postponements and putting it off.
At the beginning of the third week, I decided I was not going to ask him any more. He had 5 days to get it together and talk with our son with me, or I would do it myself. The end of this 5 day period would mark one week before moving day, and I needed to start packing and preparing, and I couldn’t wait any more.
I get that it’s hard for him. It’s shitty. This was my decision and my choice to leave and while we had spent countless hours over the last 20 years arguing and crying and screaming and talking about the problems, bottom line is that we are who we are, neither of us will be changing who we are any time soon, and it’s just not working any more. It has been almost 6 months now since I told him I was done, he has had plenty of time to wrap his head around it and he has chosen to ostrich his way through, sticking his head in the sand, and pretending it’s not happening. I finally got to the point where I needed to take care of the situation and just move on. Like just about every other step in this process.
So, last Saturday morning I sat down with my son and told him what was going on. I did not say a single negative thing about his dad. He already knows his dad does not “do feelings” well, he is very much like his dad in this way. I apologized for taking so long to tell him and said that it just didn’t work out for us to talk to him together any earlier. He was emotional, we cried, we talked, we laughed. It turned out pretty darn well considering. He came to me the next morning and asked for boxes and started packing up what he wants to take with him. He told me what furniture he wants to keep where. We have discussed a little how he will split his time. When it came right down to it, he knew that things were bad. It sucks to hear that your parents are splitting up but I was very clear to him that continuing on the way it has been is not good for anyone. He deserves to see his parents living happy lives. Growing up in an ugly home is not good for him. He is mature beyond his years and I really think he will be just fine. It’s not going to be all easy, I know that, but we will get through.
One more step on the way to my new life. I’m happy that my son will be by my side, as well as my daughter. I think all of us will come out the other side stronger and with better relationships. Both me and them and them and their dad.
I haven’t written in a while. Things had basically been going along about the same. I was feeling pretty good after I had some realizations about my situation. Felt a strange sense of peace for a bit even. But this has been a bad week.
I’m struggling. Feeling inpatient about my situation. I know I need to save some more money before I can move out. I need to take advantage of the situation, in that he is avoiding talking about things, and just make it through a few more paychecks and get to a good place. But damn I’m tired of this. I’m sick of this limbo I’m in. I can see a new life just around the corner. So close and yet so far. I am ready for freedom and happiness and relief. And I’m stuck here in this half-place.
The impatience and the knowing that better times are not that far away are weighing on me and resulting in a pretty deep, heavy, and shitty loneliness. I’m angry and sad and depressed and feeling very, very alone.
It doesn’t help that a couple of my friends are drifting away, compounding my feeling alone. I was hoping it wouldn’t happen, but feared it would, and it seems it is. It’s probably for the best, but it still sucks.
All of it has combined this week into a perfect storm of …. feeling pretty shitty.
So, I’m gonna just try to power through. Right this very moment I’m about to have some popcorn, drink too much beer, and watch some stuff online until I fall asleep. I think some alcohol and a good long cry will make me feel a little better. Somehow a good cry tends to do that.
Either way I’ll push on. Counting the days until I can move out, and move on. I know it will get better eventually and I need to just hold on to that.
Like Dory says, I’m just gonna keep swimming through the shitty days until the good ones come along.
** I wrote this almost a week ago and it didn’t publish because I forgot to push the magic button. So, better late than never. **
Finally watched this week’s episode of The Walking Dead. Side effect of having a headache all weekend …. falling asleep early on Sunday and missing The Walking Dead. Anyway, here are my thoughts:
Rant of The Week: how in the fuck does that hat keep getting bigger. It was giant on Carl’s head when he was a little kid and now he a tall, lanky, angsty, teen-ish person and it is still giant on his head. Either it’s a magic growing hat or his head is shrinking. Either way, WTF.
I haven’t written anything lately, because nothing has really changed.
We are still operating in this strange limbo without any communication of any substance. Just kind of co-existing. Literally living as roommates at this point. The awkwardness is diminishing daily, at least for me. And I’ve come to a realization.
I have my group of great friends that have become an amazing support system. And the thing is that all of them have known both he and I for years and years. For as long as we have been a “we.” And, after talking with some of them over the weekend I realized that his avoidance of talking about his isn’t because he is in denial of the relationship ending or that he even might want to fight for it. It is because he is a self-absorbed narcissist and is terrified of what others may think of him when our failed marriage goes public.
And that makes me both sad and super angry.
As we were talking, and discussing some of his traits, it hit me all of a sudden, why he is avoiding talking about things. He cares so very much about what other people think of him. He cares about that more than just about anything else. And I’m certain that is what this is. I mean, our relationship has devolved completely. We still are friendly to each other, but he doesn’t even assume that I want to spend any time with him any more (which has erased any guilt I had remaining and has made my life much less stressful). It is clear that the relationship is over. Very clear. But we still have not had a conversation about it. Not a face-to-face conversation anyway. And I truly believe that it is because once that conversation happens, and we iron out the details of my moving out, this will become public and the facade of his perfect life will come crumbling down around him and he will have to face that fact that his marriage failed and his life is not perfect.
The really ironic thing is that the people in my support system are all friends of his as well, and none of them are surprised by any of this. He isn’t fooling anyone. Even the people he thinks he has fooled. But he is so worried about what others think, that he’d rather live in this strange, loveless, co-existence than just be honest with me and himself and everyone else. It is sad. And infuriating.
So, while for the last few weeks, I had some residual guilt for hanging around in order to continue to “take advantage” of a two-income situation, but now that I have finally realized what is going on in his head … no more guilt. That shit is gone. All of it.
I have zero issues with sticking around and getting my car fixed, saving money for an apartment and furniture, and generally getting my ducks in a row so to speak. If he wants to continue to try to fool the world into thinking that he is better than any other flawed human on the planet, let him. I’m going to live my life, enjoy myself, prepare for a fresh start and then, when I am comfortably ready to go … I’m out. His narcissistic insecurities are no longer my problem. I know now that I am not alone in knowing this about him as well. And knowing that others also see the real him, helped me get rid of that remaining guilt. Now that that is all gone … I feel light and free and hopeful and happy.
And that is a fantastic feeling.
Some days it certainly feels like I have an ocean to cross. I am very much looking forward to losing sight of the shore. Every day it is getting easier to visualize my new life. I am still struggling with the loss of some of my good friends, or at least those who I thought were good friends. I am reminding myself, during my bad moments, that apparently they weren’t really good friends of mine to begin with.
The pain in this process for me is not coming from the end of my actual marriage or the loss of the relationship with my husband. For me, all of that ended long ago. I am in mourning for the life I have lived and the people that were in it.