Packing up

photo by Rachel Spauldilng

I have finally begun packing my things. After months of contemplating the move, the time to go is finally here. I am caught up in a maelstrom of emotions. There are days where I just sit and cry over the smallest things. I find momentos from our courtship. I lament over the loss of what never came to fruition. Sad that the version of us that I dreamed about is not the version of us that exists. I am depressed that we are becoming another sad statistic. The biggest loss is of our dog. Mr. Ex hit me where it really hurts. A stipulation of our divorce is that he keeps our dog. I sit with her and sob. The poor thing does not understand what’s going on.

Then there is the anger. I have a deep-seated anger that borders on rage. I ask why the hell I am even in this position. I blame myself for making foolish decisions. I blame Mr. Ex for not living up to all that he had promised. I am angry that I have been manipulated. I’m furious that I let this go on. I suffered and made sacrifices for someone who could barely be inconvenienced and didn’t fully appreciate my efforts. Of course, the accusations that I didn’t try or that I am not giving Mr. Ex a fair chance make my blood boil.

Exhaustion is my constant companion. I am emotionally exhausted and spent. Trying to pack up your life from the last 6 years is daunting. I pack and haul. I sort and toss things out. It seems so silly to try to figure out what is mine and what belongs to Mr. Ex. We have boxes of wedding gifts that we didn’t even get a chance to use. Who keeps those? Do we base it on whose invitee gave the gift? Does it even matter? As I sort through the stuff, I am again pulled in two different directions. There is part that wants to keep things and another part that wants to throw it all away and start fresh. No matter what I pack, I’m definitely on my way out.

 

Last Ditch Efforts

I am not a believer in last ditch efforts. Books and movies will have you believe that a last ditch effort can save the day. The protagonist in many romantic comedies/dramas win their lover back with some grandiose plan or gesture. I would love to see the couples from those movies 6 months to a year from the last ditch effort. I bet the situation has regressed to where it was. Last ditch efforts are NOT indicators of real change. Real change happens over time.

Why do I feel this way? Because I’ve fallen for Mr. Ex’s Last Ditch Efforts over the last couple of years. As anyone who’s gotten divorced will tell you, marriages don’t fracture and fall apart overnight. Our marriage had been crumbling for some time. At key points in the demise of our marriage, I threatened Mr. Ex with divorce. He would counter with some spectacular display of affection or change. I’m ashamed to admit that I bought it. Things would be great for a short while, but would revert back to the same crap. I have inadvertently encouraged Last Ditch efforts.

Now that he’s trying them again, he’s very frustrated that they’re not working anymore. He even asked me why. Quite frankly, I’m tired of the dog and pony shows. I don’t want to hear the crying or the promises to change. He’s even tried to cite examples of how he’s changed. This actually makes me angrier. Does this mean that if I need to be heard or changes need to be made that I have to take drastic measures? Or do I just have to wait 5 years to see results? I’m done. My patience and my naivety have run out.  Mr. Ex can keep his last ditch efforts. If he had treated me the way I deserved all along, they wouldn’t be necessary.

 

Differing Viewpoints

I have begun telling Mr. Ex’s friends and my friends that we are divorcing. I have simply stated that the marriage is no longer working out and that I am moving back to my hometown. No trash talking. No specific details. Our friends are reacting in the ways that I expected.

There are some who are offering their unsolicited advice on how to “save our marriage”. They say the usual rigmarole about marriage having it’s ups and downs, try counseling, blah… blah…blah. To these people, I politely tell them that my plans and why I’m leaving are not open for discussion or negotiation. I remind them that what I said is announcement of fact, not a topic for a panel discussion. That usually quiets them. What I would love to say is, “Shut it! Save your Pollyanna crap for someone who isn’t emotionally and mentally burnt out. You try being married to immature, irresponsible man-child.” However, I have resigned myself to be as mature as possible. For now, I’m refraining from the trash talking. In actuality, they’re not so bothersome. I know that in their own way most of them mean well.

There is another contigent that is far more bothersome. There are those that feel the need to villanize me for wanting to leave Mr. Ex. They say silly things like, “How could you devastate Mr. Ex when he loves you so much?” or “I can’t believe you would do this to Mr. Ex.” Blah… blah. As a ploy for sympathy, Mr. Ex is making a big show about how much he loves me and how he really wants to save our marriage. Blah… blah. It’s a aggravating. It gives this contingent more fuel for the fodder. This contingent also feels that I need to justify to THEM why I’m divorcing Mr. Ex. The response I’d love to give them is “It’s none of your fucking business.” Again, I’m trying to be an adult. Instead, I give them a polite smile and change the subject. Should they persist, I fully intend to tell them to tell them to fuck off.

Oddly enough, it’s the last contigent that I’m not sure how to deal with. The majority of my friends and family fall into this category. They are the supportive contigent. Sounds like it wouldn’t be a problem, right? It wouldn’t be if I wasn’t so private and independent. These folks run the gamut. I have those who want to show up on my doorstep, pack me up and move me out NOW. I appreciate their furvor, but the situation doesn’t warrant that level of …um… helpfulness. I also have touch-feely types. These folks hover over me as though I should be placed on suicide watch. I won’t lie and say that this whole process is not upsetting and depressing. There are days where I really don’t want to get out of bed. Am I depressed? Yes. Should all the sharp objects be hidden from me? Absolutely not.  There are times where I just need my space and I really don’t feel like talking to anyone at all. For all that are supportive, I am grateful. To them, I want to say “There isn’t a handbook on how to behave while in the midst of divorce. I’m sorry if I seem distant or sullen or ungracious. It’s not intentional.” For now, I’ll just thank them profusely and dodge their calls and emails until I’m ready to talk.

 

On my own timetable

As confident and self-assured as I may sound, do not be misled. This is a slow and very painful process. After you spend years building a life with someone and planning a future, it is difficult to extricate yourself from that life and accept that things are not what you thought they were. Mentally I know that our marriage is over, but that doesn’t shield me from the pain. I have small panic attacks when I contemplate the amount of upheaval this divorce will cause. Because of the financial situation, I will be forced to relocate to another city. I will be ending my marriage and packing up my life to move to another part of the country. It is daunting.

photo by Daino_16

Because this is such an involved process, I am frustrated by some of the people close to me. Because Mr. Ex and I have only been married for a short time, have no children or major assets, some people think this is quick and easy. My “lack of haste” is a sign that Mr. Ex and I are working things out. Um.. no. It’s just not that simple. Make no mistake. If I could click my heels three times and be free, I would be sitting on beach sipping margaritas.

I blame the media for these assumptions. In books and movies, they make divorces themselves look quick and the aftermath long and painful. They make it seem as though the only causes of divorce are some melodramatic event – cheating, embezzling, abuse, trouble with law, etc., etc. The media is wrong on both counts. It’s a long, drawn-out process and the dramatic events punctuate the end of a situation that was probably already degrading.

I can’t be but so annoyed. People are entitled to their opinions and perceptions. I’m just going to use this as motivation. Even if I’m working on my own timetable, I need to make haste. Things aren’t getting any better. Time just accentuates the negative and the positive gets overshadowed.

 

Protocol

photo by ivan petrov

I wish there were a handbook on how to behave in my situation. By most standards, Mr. Ex and I are candidates for an amicable divorce. There are no affairs or abuse. We are two people who are very different underneath the surface. I do not hate Mr. Ex, but I acknowledge that I no longer love him nor do I see myself having a future with him. Here is my quandary. How do I behave?

We have tried to bickering and constant arguing route, but I don’t feel like reprising Michael Douglas’ and Kathleen Turner’s roles in War of the Roses. It is a horrible way to live. I found that by not speaking of my impending departure that it lessens the arguments. Mr. Ex makes weak jokes about it, but he is in denial that our marriage is on its last leg. We still go out to eat and hang out with friends together, but once we’re home we sleep in separate places. Mr. Ex makes attempts at public displays of affection. He tries to kiss me in front of friends and I didn’t know how to react. I don’t want to embarrass him or make a scene. At the same token, I don’t feel that way anymore. Most of the time, this means I half-heartedly kiss him back. I’m not trying to lead Mr. Ex on, but after being together for 5 years it’s second nature to show some affection.

As if the situation wasn’t awkward enough, Mr. Ex makes boisterous declarations of how much he loves me. He does this when we’re alone and in public. I have no response or reaction. In many ways, it’s infuriating. Although his words say he loves me, his actions don’t really say that or our definitions of love are radically different. Mr. Ex still does the things that are prompting the divorce. He is still careless with money and has no real career prospects. He throws tantrums when I don’t reciprocate his declarations. This brings the bickering and arguing back. No matter what I say or do, Mr. Ex lives in a constant state of denial. He thinks that his small gestures and declarations will undo the years of disappointment and hurt. I am at a lost and I’m counting the days until my departure.

 

Different Directions

We want different things. Mr. Ex wants desperately to work things out and preserve our marriage and I desperately want out. In a situation like this, I wonder how two people could view the same situation so differently.

For months, we haven’t been getting along. We’re both been short-tempered. The bickering has been endless. The longer we’re together, the more trapped and stifled I feel.

This is not to say I didn’t try to make it work. For years, I put my needs and wants on the back-burner as form of compromise. If I had extra cash, I would let Mr. Ex use it for his discretionary fund instead of using the money for something I wanted. I took a job that had terrible hours and even more terrible commute so that Mr. Ex could pursue his dream job. When I saw our marriage crumbling, I tried desperately to save it. I suggested counseling. Mr. Ex laughed and said that we didn’t those kind of problems. What kind of problems warrant counseling? I read books and scoured the web for advice on how to deal with our problems. Meanwhile, our marriage was eroding. Every time we would fight, Mr. Ex would make promises and I’d believe him. Every time he broke those promises, my heart would break just a little more.

I tried different tactics, but what kind of marriage is it when only one person is compromising and making sacrifices? Mr. Ex was only slightly inconvenienced, but I was living a pauper’s life, a lifestyle that I was unaccustomed to. In the last couple of months, I tried ultimatums. I have warned him that I would leave him if he didn’t change and our situation didn’t improve. Mr. Ex would change for a week or two and revert back. It’s been painful cycle of hope and disappointment.

Now that I’m finally making good on my ultimatum, he doesn’t believe me. I can’t blame him. I’ve been like the boy who cried wolf. At the same token, no one can blame me if I don’t believe Mr. Ex and his promises. Please excuse me if I feel no sorrow when Mr. Ex cries about how much he loves me and says he can’t live without me. If I really meant that much to him, he would have fought this hard a long time ago and he would not have let me suffer. I have no hope left, nor any more room to compromise. I’m done. Quite simply, I have nothing left. Mr. Ex is out of luck. There is nothing left to save.

 

An Unlikely Villain

CHILLIN LIKE A VILLAIN by ~LaMeep on deviantART

On the surface, most people that know us as a couple would not imagine that Mr. Ex is such a terrible husband.  In many ways, he’s not horrific. He isn’t abusive nor unfaithful. He is very doting and openly affectionate almost to the point of being nauseating. Outwardly, Mr. Ex is gregarious and sociable. He is the life of the party and the first person people call when they’re planning an event. He’s athletic and fun. Despite this, I am counting the days until I file for divorce.

When we first met, I thought Mr. Ex was ambitious and driven. I confused Mr. Ex’s dreamer tendencies with ambition. It took a while to realize that behind all “planning” very little action took place. Mr. Ex did very little when his prospects didn’t pan out. When an opportunity fizzled, Mr. Ex has always been quick to whine and make excuses. Every time, something fell through it was never his fault. Mr. Ex has a general lack of culpability and is fond of playing the victim. Bad things happen to him and he has no hand in it. Gee, how convenient.

Through all this turmoil, I have had to keep us afloat. I went from being a Wife and Partner to being his Mother and Slave. I know every wife loves to joke about how they become their husband’s mother, but in our case it was extreme. Mr. Ex stopped doing anything for himself.  I paid our bills, did the laundry, cleaned the house, bought groceries, did our taxes, upkept our computers, etc, etc. I even went as far as re-writing his resumes and cover letters. This was done in the name of making it easier for Mr. Ex to focus on trying to get his career in order. Meanwhile, I’m juggling my career and burgeoning business. The more I worked, the less he worked.  I am ashamed to admit that I did this for years. I kept believing that eventually something would pan out. I finally come to terms with the idea that past actions are indicators for future behaviors. Ergo, our future will be filled with nothing but more talk and little action.

Lest I forget, Mr. Ex is always full of speeches proclaiming how he felt so terribly that he wasn’t contributing and that he didn’t like having his wife support him. His words said he felt bad, but his actions did not. His actions said that he could care less about what I had to do to keep us going. Feeling bad does not stop him from spending the money nor does it keep him from complaining that I wasn’t doing enough or understanding enough.

I was exhausted, am still exhausted.  In supporting Mr. Ex, I stifled my own growth. When all my energy goes towards helping him, I had nothing left for me. For everything I do, it’s never enough nor it it appreciated. I am tired of battling the villain at home. I realize now that even Wonder Woman never married.  Even a gal with Super Powers can’t handle a Villain like mine.

 

It’s not about the money

If you ask Mr. Ex why I’m leaving him, he will tell you it’s because of money or lack thereof. That is an over-simplified explanation. It is a convenient excuse because it villainizes me. Poor, Mr. Ex. Mrs. Ex left him because he lost his job and couldn’t find work. The truth of the matter is that Mr. Ex has never had a job, or I should say a steady one, in the time we’ve been together. It is only recently that the economic downturn has prevented him from finding any work at all. I know, I know. If he was barely employable BEFORE we married, why did I marry him? I bought into the rhetoric. You see, Mr. Ex is a great talker. When we got engaged, he spun grandiose tales of how he was going to support us and we’d buy our own home. {I never expected to be a stay at home wife, but it was nice fantasy.} We had a small wedding with the idea that we could save our money to make “bigger moves”.

When we first started dating, I was career gal making a fair amount. He was working part-time in retail and the other part of the time as a freelancer working in a creative job field. I made significantly more money than him, but I didn’t mind because I loved him and what we had was shared. I thought that once his career took off we would be fine. We would happily skip down the road of equal partnership. What I never took into account is that Mr. Ex’s career would never take off.

I encouraged Mr. Ex to give up his dead-end retail job to fully pursue a position in his creative job field. In order to do that, he needed to freelance and network. In the beginning of his freelancer days, he made a fair amount of money. The downside is that his gigs had large gaps between them. This created a feast-or-famine situation, which surprisingly wasn’t the problem. The problem was Mr. Ex happily spent and was extravagant during our feast time. New accessories for his expensive hobbies. Trips and vacations. Extravagant dinners out. Treating his friends to drinks, etc, etc. During the famine times, I picked up the slack. I worked overtime and our lifestyle didn’t suffer. He would say it bothered him that he couldn’t provide for me or even provide his share.  This did not stop him from spending the money nor did it motivate him to find more steady employment.

The opposite happened. Because he was so comfortable, Mr. Ex was in no rush to find a permanent work situation. Even worse, he cultivated a sense of entitlement. If a gig or place of employment wasn’t absolutely perfect or he didn’t make the amount of money he felt he deserved, something would mysteriously happen and he would be out of work. He wasn’t worried and didn’t have a sense of urgency. I’d be there picking up the slack. In the midst of all this, I was the mistress of illusions. I made it look as though Mr. Ex and I were doing well financially and we contributed equally to the household finances. This is how we lived for the better part of three years. It was exhausting.

Then, the unthinkable happened. I lost my job. I was laid off a year ago at the beginning of the economic downturn. I had two choices. Try to get a lesser paying job in my industry or start my own business. Mr. Ex convinced me to start my own business. He promised that he would do whatever it took to keep us afloat and allow me to develop my own company. I foolishly went ahead and started my business. “Whatever it takes” equated to Mr. Ex continuing like he had. I had thought he would take on several part time jobs or change industries entirely. Nope. According to him, to leave the industry that he already invested years working in would have been foolish. Meanwhile, my business is taking off, but not generating enough income to support us both. I could not go back to the industry in which I was working. The job market for my industry collapsed in our city. So, we’ve spiraled deep and deeper into debt. {Our debt is strictly in my name because Mr. Ex had poor credit to begin with.}

I have a hand in creating this situation. I let it happen. I did things against my better judgment.  This doesn’t stop me from feeling hurt. For years, I commuted long distances, worked crazy hours, and did whatever it took to support us. When it came time for him to reciprocate, I got a handful excuses and empty promises. To keep us from ending up out on the street, I have been running my business and working odd jobs for extra money. I do all this while Mr. Ex spews rhetoric and “tries” to find a job. So, Mr. Ex can say all he wants – that he tries to find work, that he really loves me, etc. etc. Actions speak louder than words and his actions say that he really didn’t care all that much… at least not enough to inconvenience himself.

 

No Reason to Celebrate

Our Second Anniversary recently passed without incident. There were no celebrations and no gifts. Mr. Ex wanted to “do something fun”, but that felt wrong. We really didn’t celebrate our first anniversary, why start now? On my other blog, I faked last year’s celebration. I know that we will not have a 3rd Anniversary. As steadfast as I am in my decision to divorce Mr. Ex, the situation is still depressing.

Two years ago, we stood in front of our family and friends and vowed to love one another and be partners for the rest of our lives. When I said my vows and exchanged rings, I meant it. I know that Mr. Ex also meant his vows, but he just can’t live up to them. I wish I could say our wedding day was among the happiest days of my life. But, I can’t. There was a time that I looked at people incredulously when they say that their wedding day was one of exuberant joy.  Mine certainly was not. I was stressed, unhappy and had never felt more alone in my life. I realize now that my experience is atypical and that most people are really are ecstatically happy on their wedding day. I envy them.

Our wedding was an indicator of what our married life had in store for us. I believe that the universe gives you signs to let you know that you are on the wrong path.  We had them in spades and I ignored them. The week of the wedding our venue cancelled our reservation because final payment wasn’t made in time. We got it back, but not without a lot of groveling. When our wedding rings arrived, they did not fit at all. His ring was too big and mine was too small. I wore a dress that I simply settled for and wasn’t flattering to me at all. It was hotter than hell and everything that could have gone wrong did. We had no liquor and no DJ because we lost our city permits. Our linens did not show up. Mr. Ex had to borrow a car and pick them up. I had to get ready in a utility closet. My father told me I looked like a “fat whore” before he walked me down the aisle. Our cake was delivered half an hour before our reception ended. Our photographer, who is a friend, was so wrapped up in trying to help with all the disasters that she didn’t photograph a majority of our wedding. We got stuck cleaning our reception venue and taking out the trash in our wedding clothes.

The pièce de résistance came after the wedding itself. We had our friends meet us at a bar nearby. As the bride, I was handed many, many drinks. I lost track of how much I drank. The combination of the alcohol and sleep deprivation had me calling it an early night. As in I was done by 11:30. What does my new husband decide to do? Instead of checking us into our bridal suite, he takes me to the hotel suite I’ve been sharing with my BFF and says he’ll come back for me later. He wants to keep partying. Mr. Ex did not resurface until 3AM. At which point, he tried to guilt me into not partying with him and wanted us to transfer to our bridal suite, which was in a neighboring hotel. I was exhausted and did not budge. Mr. Ex decided to continue partying, left my car at our friend’s house and walked home. The next day, I was stranded at the hotel. Once I finally got a ride home to freshen up, Mr. Ex was passed out from partying. I was left to attend to our remaining guests and drive some to the airport. That was the beginning of our marriage. How’s that for a great start?

 

Let Freedom Ring

I love my engagement ring, but I’ve stopped wearing it along with my wedding band. At first, I stopped wearing it because I needed to get it resized and cleaned. I never got around to getting it cleaned nor sized. Now, It just feels wrong to wear it. Then again, it never felt right. It’s not the ring’s fault. It’s absolutely gorgeous and very much my style. It’s modern and minimal with just the right amount of sparkle. There’s a back story to my ring.

When Mr. Ex and I got engaged, there was no ring. He didn’t even make a formal proposal. We were in the car on the way back from the airport and were discussing marriage in general. He just said to me, “So you wanna (get married)?”. That’s it. No grand gesture. No getting down on one knee. Nothing. Mr. Ex had always been a Don’t-Believe-in-Marriage kind of guy.  I didn’t believe he was serious. It wasn’t until a few days later when he started talking about a ceremony on the beach that I realized he was serious.

Mr. Ex and I caught wedding fever. It’s really quite silly. I jumped headfirst into wedding planning all without a ring. The lack of an engagement ring should have told me something. Traditionally, an engagement ring is given to represent a man’s ability to support his bride. Therefore, the absence of a ring should have been a blaring indicator of what our married life had in store for us. His biggest excuse for not purchasing a ring is that he couldn’t afford a ring that I deserved. That statement shows how little he knew me or how foolish I was to believe him. I would have been happy with any ring he would have purchased.

When did my illustrious engagement ring materialize? A year after our engagement, 2 months before our wedding. Mr. Ex and I had seen it months before, but he had made no real effort in purchasing it. He finally purchased the ring on a payment plan. I pressured him into buying it when I reminded him how ridiculous it was that we had an upcoming wedding and I had yet to receive an engagement ring.  I also had a family reunion and was not going to explain the lack of engagement ring. Inevitably, because the ring was purchased on a payment plan and I was the breadwinner of our household, I ended up paying for most of it. That’s right. I bought my own ring. To add insult to injury, my engagement ring doesn’t even have a real diamond center stone. Mr. Ex promised to upgrade the ring. A promise that was never kept.

Given its history, my engagement ring will not grace my finger for a while. Although, don’t count it out. It’ll probably resurface on my right hand as a symbol of my newfound freedom when I get divorced. After all, why should a perfectly good platinum ring go to waste?