Breakdown to Breakthrough

It feels like weeks or months since I last posted instead of just a few days. Nothing has really changed -- exH is still broke and somewhat crazy, I am still broke and overwhelmed by finances and boxes -- but in some subtle way, *I* have changed. Now, I'll be honest and say that it's also possible that the Lexapro has kicked in. Except that I was on the same dose a year and a half ago and never felt much of a difference. So who knows. But with or without a little chemical boost, sometime in the past few days, I just decided to let go. And here's the trick ... this time, I think I actually did it.

As some of you know, I've talked a good game on this topic before, but secretly (or not so secretly) I always kept clinging to some small bit of control here and there. Control over exH, over my relationship with P, over money. The way I can tell that something has actually changed is that I feel lighter. Literally. I embrace that there are some things that I have no control over and never will. Like how someone feels toward me (good or bad), whether I get a raise, or whether and when exH finds a new job. A few things are under my control -- how I treat others, how I choose to manage the money I do have, how well I perform at work, whether I exercise and get enough sleep -- and that is all I can do. And while I can always do better, I think I am faring pretty well in those areas. I have been kind (mostly) to exH despite his behavior, loving (if a bit impatient) with Lulu and Boo, responsible with money, competent at work, and caring and accepting of P. I am moving forward with the move to the new house, plowing through all the phone calls and emails involved with closing on a mortgage, transferring utilities, registering Lulu at school, etc.

None of this is exactly fun, but it's satisfying in the way that drudgery can sometimes be. Moving is awful, but also cathartic. And once again, I am reminded that I can do just fine on my own. That doesn't mean I like it, or that this is how I want to live the rest of my life, but it's reassuring to know I can do it.

About Blame and Change

For those of you who've told me you know what I'm going through, I hope this post from Susan Elliott will help you a little. It definitely helped me.

On Blame

Same Song, Second Verse

I've started to post a couple times this week, but things are still not going well, and somehow putting it in writing felt like it made it even worse. After a few days of truce, exH has started up with the nasty email rants. I wish I had followed my instincts to pack up and move out early, but I didn't and now I've just got to ride out the next 9 days until he leaves for a trip. Once he gets back, there will be just 3 days until we move.

For now, I am barely sleeping or eating. Even when he's out for the night, I still can't sleep without my bedroom door locked, a chair pushed up against it just in case, and a couple of Xanax to calm my anxiety. I am just so fearful that he will drink too much and show up at my door with his hateful, angry rants. I must seem crazy to some people -- P doesn't get it, for sure -- but whether or not my fears are rational, they are definitely real.

As I may have said here before, I've never been much for prayer or faith, but I don't mind telling you that I am praying now. ExH needs something good to happen. I need to sleep. We all need peace.

Wiped Out

This has been a tough week. It has been scary and overwhelming and emotional and a hard slap of reality. It has also reminded me that I can take care of myself and prompted me to remember that as bad as things feel right now, I've been through worse and made it out ok.

In his despair and anger over the divorce and losing his job, ExH turned on me in such a hateful, frightening (though not physical) way. It is sad to me that after making it through the last year and half, he has chosen to destroy the care and goodwill I had for him. Not to mention his refusal to pay child support even though he will get paid for two more months. But that's only money. The things he said were the real problem. He's calmed down a little now but I can't imagine that anything will be the same again.

It has really been a bad week. But it's just that -- a week, or at worst the three weeks until we can move. The money stuff will somehow work out. I can't spend my life bouncing from crisis to crisis ... just getting through the days. I want more for myself than that. So no more of this constant obsessing about money, or P, or exH. When it comes to money, all I can do is to work hard, be responsible and frugal, and prepare as best I can. No amount of hours spent staring at the ceiling worrying is going to magically double my bank account. P ... well, he is who he is and I have to accept that he probably won't change. He's been there for me as much as he can be, we've had some great times together, and I hope that will continue for awhile. If I need more at some point, well, I may have to move on. For exH, all I can do is be a good mother, try to be compassionate, and do what I need to do to protect myself and my kids from his troubles.

Here's to a better week ahead.

Breaking Point

Remember that post the other day about exH losing it? Wait, was that only yesterday? It seems like a long time ago. Before exH got even crazier, before I decided to pack up and move out two weeks early (and later decided not to), before he lost his only client and effectively became unemployed. Before I was facing an indefinite period of time without child support. Give me back the craziness of yesterday because today might hit the list of top 10 worst days ever.

But I have always been good in a crisis. That's what'll be chiseled on my gravestone, I'm sure, because that is what everyone always says about me. I suppose it's true. The day-to-day nonsense seems to easily overwhelm me, but today I haven't shed a single tear. I've calmly made phone calls, gathered information, and weighed my options. I've been decisive and determined. So, yeah, I can handle a crisis. But here's the secret: This is when I feel most alone. Because even at my best, my most capable and confident, there is only me.

Even though I feel alone, and even though there is not much they can really do, I am grateful for my mom, sister, R, and P right now. My mom, who will literally do anything for me. Who would gladly give me the money to make this all go away if I asked, but from whom I cannot ask another dollar. My mom, who knows what emotional abuse is and how deeply its invisible scars run, who loves me and my children more than her own life, who even loves exH if only because he is her grandchildren's father. My sister, who barely knows me, but loves me just the same. Who is coming to spend a week here just to help me paint the new place and play with my children while I settle in. My sister, who is seven years younger and who I have ignored for most of the past 20 years (benignly not hatefully, but still), but who still asked me to be her maid of honor. And did I mention helping me paint? R, who listens and listens and listens and chases after me when I have to leave the building in order to preserve my pristine record of not crying at work. And finally P, who gives me a place to go when I can't be home, who doesn't really want to have to take care of anyone other than himself but who is in his own small way taking care of me anyway.

Ties That Bind

I'm starting to wonder what the point is of getting a divorce when you have children. Because here's the thing, unless your ex moves across the country or is a deadbeat who never wants to see his kids, you're never really free. Sure, you can live in separate places (and we will in 23 days, thank god), and you can get married again (the horror!), but as long as you are co-parenting and reliant on child support, the ex is always going to be there. For better or worse.

Today is one of the "for worse" days. ExH is panicked about losing his main client (and pretty much his sole source of income), scared (I think) about us moving out (and on) and so he is lashing out at me. Again. This is a huge part of why we are divorced, and somehow I hoped once we weren't married anymore, it would stop. But no, it's just the legal ties that have been cut. The emotional link is still there and his tirades still frighten me almost as much. He has much less power over me than he used to for sure, but as long as I need child support from him, he's got power all the same. All I can do is hope he pulls himself together ... and plan for the worst in the meantime.

Even though I have my mom and friends who care about me like R and A and P, during days like this, I can't help but feel very alone. There is only so much any of them can do to help me. Ultimately, it's on me to make sure Lulu and Boo and I are safe and secure ... physically, emotionally, and financially. When exH is sane, he is a good father, and I know I am lucky for that. But I can't count on him, or anyone else, really. It's all on me, and what happens if I fail?

Miss Independent

Yesterday, P took me to a party with some of his college friends. I was surprised when he asked, and guessed that this wasn't something he usually did. And sure enough, as we were leaving to head to his friend's place, he mentioned that he never brings girls to parties. So I was nervous -- especially because there is just about nothing scarier for me than a party where I don't know anyone -- but everything went very well. I liked his friends and felt comfortable enough that I could hold my own when he wasn't around. He didn't abandon me or anything; I'm just glad he didn't feel like he had to be by my side all night. I saw a glimpse of the confident, cool, independent girlfriend I want to be with him.

I can't shake the feeling I've had the past few weeks that this is a real make-it-or-break-it time for me and P. I feel like he's weighing whether or not he can be the relationship type, and if he can, am I the right girl? Honestly, I don't know if I am or not, but I think I want to be. This afternoon when I left, I could tell he was getting restless with me there. I teased him that the most he could stand me was 24 hours, but there's some truth to that. I know it's not me -- I wasn't demanding attention or entertainment -- it's just that he needs time alone. I get that, and for once I didn't take it personally. I wasn't happy to leave him, but I felt good about recognizing his boundaries and being able to let him have the space he needs without it being a reflection on anything else. Yet another glimpse of that independent girl that just maybe I can be.