Actually, that title is a lie. Of course it didn't really happen on the way to divorce court. That would be just plain tacky. And I like to be enormously tacky.
So here is the thing. Remember how I started dating that guy? Yeah. That guy got me pregnant. And so, while it technically did not happen on the way to divorce court, I was absolutely a proper hoodrat about it and showed up to divorce court pregnant with another man's baby. Not that anyone knew. But I knew, and I felt the ghettoness of my roots in that moment. You can take the girl out of the projects, I suppose...
Anyway. Obviously you have some questions. Questions such as "are you really that stupid?" and "so, I guess you aren't having an abortion then?". Let's get in to that, as I'm going to find a way to blame this all on my ex husband.
As for the question of my intelligence, well, let me assure you, you aren't the first to ask. And rightfully so. I won't get into the messy details, but let's just say I had a lapse in judgment. Let's just say that I was so cocky about my knowledge of my cycles and fertility signs after multiple rounds of IVF and years of tracking and trying to get pregnant, that I simply got cavalier about the whole thing. I simply thought I knew too much to have an accidental pregnancy. So yeah, ok, I guess I'm kind of fucking stupid.
As for the abortion question. I looked to my past, to my struggles to conceive and my loss of a much loved and terribly wanted baby and I could not bring myself to do it. Even if it was the most logical choice. And I assure you, I do realize it was the most logical choice. Even now I sometimes find myself thinking "wow... I wish I could have been a bit more logical when I made this decision". It's not that I regret it, exactly. I just didn't really take as much time as I should have to think it through. Truthfully, I knew I'd never go through with it anyway, no matter how much I may have been able to convince myself that it was the best option.
And so, for the official record, today I am nearly 16 weeks pregnant. The future is murky and scary, but in the end I know I will love this baby no matter what else happens. I know I will find equal parts joy and challenge in being a single mother (and no, that doesn't mean the guy just dropped off the face of the Earth, but my reality is what it is and I have to be prepared for that). I know that when Caitlyn hugs my belly and tells me she wants a baby brother, who shall be named Pocoyo and who she shall paint blue, she will get an immense amount of joy from having a sibling to love. I know that we will be a family, in whatever version works best for us. I know we will carry on and love each other and support each other and be happy. As for everything else? Well, fuck if I know.
Showing posts with label divorce is brutal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label divorce is brutal. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Catholic Guilt Only Works If You Are Catholic
Every time I'm about to post something that I think will be offensive to a lot of people, I like to preface it with a warning. It would seem, though, that those are always the posts my readers like best. Also, I suppose "a lot of people" is relative. Even if 50% of my readers were incredibly offended and started some shit in the comments, that would only be like 6 people, and that's closer to a bar brawl than the sort of viral, internet, hate-filled shitstorm I keep imagining. Anyway. This is one such occasion. Consider yourself warned.
In my last post, I told you guys that I'm moving. Without my husband. The thing of it is, we have actually been separated for almost 3 months now, but as I also mentioned, he had refused to move out, so I went out and found a place on my own.
You would think after being separated for months, with him asking for a reconciliation more than once and me refusing each time during that period, that Rodolfo would not have been shocked when I told him I'd found a new place to live. But of course, he was shocked. It was a little over a week ago that I told him I'd be moving at the end of the month, which gave him a solid 2 and a half weeks until I left. It isn't a ton of time, I realize, but again, I'd like to reiterate how he should have not only been expecting this, but also preparing for it.
Rodolfo's immediate reaction was to tell me how much I'd screwed him over, and to heap on serving after serving of guilt about the financial and logistical ruin our break-up would cause him. He decided in less than 5 minutes that he would also need to move, because, despite making more money than I do, somehow he simply can't afford a 1 bedroom apartment. He informed our landlord the very next day that we would be leaving on August 1st.
Yesterday afternoon, Rodolfo called me to let me know that he had spoken to our landlord, who informed him that we would be losing 1 month of our 1 and a half months security deposit, because we did not give "enough" notice before our move. Now, I could absolutely go off on a tangent here about the fact that we signed a one year lease that did not have an automatic renewal clause 3 years ago and were never asked to sign a new one after it expired, which would make our current situation month-to-month. I could point out that even if we were basing it off the old lease, there is not a single word in that lease that specifies what our landlord considers "enough" notice. I could rant about the fact that he just arbitrarily decided to keep our security for reasons he made up right there on the spot. But you know, that isn't what this post is even about. I simply brought it up because I think I know the real reason he decided to keep our security, and it's definitely not about notice:
So. Last night comes and I'm making dinner. Actually, I had just finished making dinner. The dog was in his cage and our food was on our plates (our = mine and Caitlyn's. Rodolfo was at work), sitting on my kitchen counter. I had just set out to wrangle Caitlyn into her high chair so we could eat, when I heard a knock at my door. I ignored it. A minute later there was a second knock and I knew she wouldn't go away until I talked to her.
It was our downstairs neighbor. I should mention that our landlord is her son. She and her husband live in the apartment downstairs and their son owns the house. I opened the door and she asked if she could come in. I told her that I had been packing and my house was a ridiculous mess. "Don't worry", she told me. "I'm not here to look at your apartment, I want to talk to you". Ugh. Backed into a corner, I let her in. I should also point out that while I was distracted talking to her at the door, Caitlyn had let the dog out of his cage and so I spent the entirety of the ensuing conversation swatting him away from our dinner. I think it's important for you to have that as a part of this visual as a whole. This woman saw that our dinner was sitting on the kitchen counter, uneaten, and did not even offer to come back at another time. Nope. Saving a person is something you need to do right away, I guess.
Apparently, Rodolfo had mentioned to her that the reason we were moving is because I had decided to leave him. And when I say she was there trying to "save" me, let me assure you that I do not mean she came there with the intent of helping me get out of my marriage. There were no questions about my safety or finances or emotional well being. No. She had a different agenda. She was there to intervene on behalf of Jesus.
Her first words after she walked through my door, were to tell me how upset she was. "Feel my heart- it's racing", she insisted. At first, I thought she was upset because we had been friendly tenants, on good terms with them, and they always took the time to play with Caitlyn and Joey when they saw them. I thought, when she told me she was upset, that she was expressing some sort of sadness because we would be leaving.
Her next words, though, cleared that misunderstanding right up. "You know, 2 of my sons are divorced and it really hurts me. What religion are you- Catholic or Protestant?". Oh. None of the above, thank you very much, but I did make the unfortunate distinction that "well, my father is Catholic, but I'm not religious". "Well," she said, "if your father is Catholic, he's really going to suffer if you get divorced".
She then proceeded to ask me if Rodolfo and I had sought out the counsel of a priest to help deal with our marital issues, and when I made it clear that that would never happen, she suggested a non-religious counselor. I thanked her for her suggestions and even gave her a little hope so that maybe she would leave me the fuck alone "well, we aren't technically getting divorced yet. We are simply spending some time apart to see what our next step is". That was a mistake. She latched on to her mission to get me to stay with my husband, despite never having asked a single question about WHY I left (maybe he was beating me, lady. What if that were the case? Oh, that's right, Jesus still wouldn't approve of a divorce).
Once she thought there was a chance, she spent the next 5 minutes or so telling me how bad it will be for Caitlyn when Rodolfo and I split up. "Children who live with both parents are much better off- it's bad for them when the parents aren't together. Those children aren't as well-adjusted". That right there? The fact that I responded with a polite "well, my mother was a single mother, so I don't agree with that"- that might have actually proven to me the existence of a god. Because maintaining my decorum in that moment and NOT telling her to go fuck herself? That was patently miraculous.
After that she spent a few more minutes Catholic-guilting me. She explained to me how much easier it would be to fix this problem if I were religious, because "then you could just pray and God would help you". She told me that, when her son split with his wife, he wanted to go to counseling but she said no. Then, when she decided she wanted to go, he had already found another woman. Another woman who interacts with his children, even! Tragic, really. I mean, what kind of family values are those?
After each argument she made, she would stop talking for a moment and look at me expectantly, as if she was waiting for the moment when I would realize she was right and thank her for saving my soul from eternal damnation. About 10 minutes in, after repeatedly making it clear that she did not approve of my choice, no matter the reason or my own personal belief structure, she realized that, alas, she would not be able to get me into heaven, and finally left, obviously dejected.
I'm going to try to not turn these last few paragraphs into religion-specific hate. That being said, this is why I hate organized religion (Yup. Contradictory like a motherfucker). I managed to maintain my composure because she's a nice woman and I know she meant well, but in my head, I spend the entire time screaming "who the FUCK do you think you are?" at her.
Okay. And really, WHO THE FUCK DOES SHE THINK SHE IS???? She's not my fucking grandmother or my best friend or a trusted confidante. She didn't give a flying fuck about my reasons for leaving or my well-being. All she cared about was her own personal belief system, and cramming it down my throat as hard and guilt-riddled as possible.
And then it occurred to me. Is this why I'm getting screwed out of my security deposit? If my husband and I had found a house like we had originally planned, would it have been all sunshine and puppies and rainbows and prompt return of my fucking money then? I sort of think maybe it would have been.
I really wish I hadn't taken the high road during that conversation and instead shown her the exact same level of respect she showed me. You know, none. Nadine seems to think I should have told her I was a bisexual Muslim and I was leaving Rodolfo for another woman that I had been cheating on him with for the entirety of our marriage. God, that would have been so fantastic.
In a completely unrelated note, why did I spend half my train ride today thinking about "The Human Centipede", a movie which I have never seen and never ever ever want to see? I'm going to put it right out there and say I blame Jesus.
In my last post, I told you guys that I'm moving. Without my husband. The thing of it is, we have actually been separated for almost 3 months now, but as I also mentioned, he had refused to move out, so I went out and found a place on my own.
You would think after being separated for months, with him asking for a reconciliation more than once and me refusing each time during that period, that Rodolfo would not have been shocked when I told him I'd found a new place to live. But of course, he was shocked. It was a little over a week ago that I told him I'd be moving at the end of the month, which gave him a solid 2 and a half weeks until I left. It isn't a ton of time, I realize, but again, I'd like to reiterate how he should have not only been expecting this, but also preparing for it.
Rodolfo's immediate reaction was to tell me how much I'd screwed him over, and to heap on serving after serving of guilt about the financial and logistical ruin our break-up would cause him. He decided in less than 5 minutes that he would also need to move, because, despite making more money than I do, somehow he simply can't afford a 1 bedroom apartment. He informed our landlord the very next day that we would be leaving on August 1st.
Yesterday afternoon, Rodolfo called me to let me know that he had spoken to our landlord, who informed him that we would be losing 1 month of our 1 and a half months security deposit, because we did not give "enough" notice before our move. Now, I could absolutely go off on a tangent here about the fact that we signed a one year lease that did not have an automatic renewal clause 3 years ago and were never asked to sign a new one after it expired, which would make our current situation month-to-month. I could point out that even if we were basing it off the old lease, there is not a single word in that lease that specifies what our landlord considers "enough" notice. I could rant about the fact that he just arbitrarily decided to keep our security for reasons he made up right there on the spot. But you know, that isn't what this post is even about. I simply brought it up because I think I know the real reason he decided to keep our security, and it's definitely not about notice:
So. Last night comes and I'm making dinner. Actually, I had just finished making dinner. The dog was in his cage and our food was on our plates (our = mine and Caitlyn's. Rodolfo was at work), sitting on my kitchen counter. I had just set out to wrangle Caitlyn into her high chair so we could eat, when I heard a knock at my door. I ignored it. A minute later there was a second knock and I knew she wouldn't go away until I talked to her.
It was our downstairs neighbor. I should mention that our landlord is her son. She and her husband live in the apartment downstairs and their son owns the house. I opened the door and she asked if she could come in. I told her that I had been packing and my house was a ridiculous mess. "Don't worry", she told me. "I'm not here to look at your apartment, I want to talk to you". Ugh. Backed into a corner, I let her in. I should also point out that while I was distracted talking to her at the door, Caitlyn had let the dog out of his cage and so I spent the entirety of the ensuing conversation swatting him away from our dinner. I think it's important for you to have that as a part of this visual as a whole. This woman saw that our dinner was sitting on the kitchen counter, uneaten, and did not even offer to come back at another time. Nope. Saving a person is something you need to do right away, I guess.
Apparently, Rodolfo had mentioned to her that the reason we were moving is because I had decided to leave him. And when I say she was there trying to "save" me, let me assure you that I do not mean she came there with the intent of helping me get out of my marriage. There were no questions about my safety or finances or emotional well being. No. She had a different agenda. She was there to intervene on behalf of Jesus.
Her first words after she walked through my door, were to tell me how upset she was. "Feel my heart- it's racing", she insisted. At first, I thought she was upset because we had been friendly tenants, on good terms with them, and they always took the time to play with Caitlyn and Joey when they saw them. I thought, when she told me she was upset, that she was expressing some sort of sadness because we would be leaving.
Her next words, though, cleared that misunderstanding right up. "You know, 2 of my sons are divorced and it really hurts me. What religion are you- Catholic or Protestant?". Oh. None of the above, thank you very much, but I did make the unfortunate distinction that "well, my father is Catholic, but I'm not religious". "Well," she said, "if your father is Catholic, he's really going to suffer if you get divorced".
She then proceeded to ask me if Rodolfo and I had sought out the counsel of a priest to help deal with our marital issues, and when I made it clear that that would never happen, she suggested a non-religious counselor. I thanked her for her suggestions and even gave her a little hope so that maybe she would leave me the fuck alone "well, we aren't technically getting divorced yet. We are simply spending some time apart to see what our next step is". That was a mistake. She latched on to her mission to get me to stay with my husband, despite never having asked a single question about WHY I left (maybe he was beating me, lady. What if that were the case? Oh, that's right, Jesus still wouldn't approve of a divorce).
Once she thought there was a chance, she spent the next 5 minutes or so telling me how bad it will be for Caitlyn when Rodolfo and I split up. "Children who live with both parents are much better off- it's bad for them when the parents aren't together. Those children aren't as well-adjusted". That right there? The fact that I responded with a polite "well, my mother was a single mother, so I don't agree with that"- that might have actually proven to me the existence of a god. Because maintaining my decorum in that moment and NOT telling her to go fuck herself? That was patently miraculous.
After that she spent a few more minutes Catholic-guilting me. She explained to me how much easier it would be to fix this problem if I were religious, because "then you could just pray and God would help you". She told me that, when her son split with his wife, he wanted to go to counseling but she said no. Then, when she decided she wanted to go, he had already found another woman. Another woman who interacts with his children, even! Tragic, really. I mean, what kind of family values are those?
After each argument she made, she would stop talking for a moment and look at me expectantly, as if she was waiting for the moment when I would realize she was right and thank her for saving my soul from eternal damnation. About 10 minutes in, after repeatedly making it clear that she did not approve of my choice, no matter the reason or my own personal belief structure, she realized that, alas, she would not be able to get me into heaven, and finally left, obviously dejected.
I'm going to try to not turn these last few paragraphs into religion-specific hate. That being said, this is why I hate organized religion (Yup. Contradictory like a motherfucker). I managed to maintain my composure because she's a nice woman and I know she meant well, but in my head, I spend the entire time screaming "who the FUCK do you think you are?" at her.
Okay. And really, WHO THE FUCK DOES SHE THINK SHE IS???? She's not my fucking grandmother or my best friend or a trusted confidante. She didn't give a flying fuck about my reasons for leaving or my well-being. All she cared about was her own personal belief system, and cramming it down my throat as hard and guilt-riddled as possible.
And then it occurred to me. Is this why I'm getting screwed out of my security deposit? If my husband and I had found a house like we had originally planned, would it have been all sunshine and puppies and rainbows and prompt return of my fucking money then? I sort of think maybe it would have been.
I really wish I hadn't taken the high road during that conversation and instead shown her the exact same level of respect she showed me. You know, none. Nadine seems to think I should have told her I was a bisexual Muslim and I was leaving Rodolfo for another woman that I had been cheating on him with for the entirety of our marriage. God, that would have been so fantastic.
In a completely unrelated note, why did I spend half my train ride today thinking about "The Human Centipede", a movie which I have never seen and never ever ever want to see? I'm going to put it right out there and say I blame Jesus.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Time to Go
It's been a stressful couple of weeks. As you may remember, a couple of months ago, I decided to leave my husband. Since that point, we've had at least 4 or 5 conversations on the matter, most of which revolve around the fact that he would like to make it clear to me that I do not have the right to make this decision. He's called me selfish. He's begged forgiveness. He told me that he had no intentions of leaving the apartment we shared.
I gave it some time. I made it clear that I was not going to change my mind. When he insisted that he wanted to work it out, I pointed out to him that this was happening on my terms and if he really wanted to prove to me that he has changed, that he would need to stop fighting the inevitable. Still, he resisted. What he never seemed to grasp is the fact that the more he resisted, the more convinced he became that he could simply impose his will on me, the more he pushed me to get my ass in gear and leave.
Last week, I found a new apartment. On August 1, I will move on, really, truly and finally. I will be on my own for the first time in my life. And it feels great.
I'm really looking forward to not having to compromise on absolutely everything. I get it. Marriage is about compromise. Anyone who doesn't understand that should never get married. Generally, I'm pretty easy to get along with in that way. I have no problem compromising. With Rodolfo though, every decision down to the tiniest detail, was a power struggle. I could never simply decide anything, whether it was what time I should come home from a friend's house or the color I wanted to paint a wall. Everything was measured for my response. It seemed the more trivial it was, the more he insisted that I consider his "feelings" on the subject. And I mean, really, why does a grown man need to have "feelings" about his 30 year old wife coming home from a party past 11pm?
I spent the weekend bouncing around garage sales with Nadine, making simple decor decisions about my new home without having to consider the fact that Rodolfo doesn't like... let's go with anything. Or at least anything I might like. We found some really cool stuff. And can I say, on that note, why haven't I been doing this garage sale thing forever? I got a brand new box of glasses for $1. My budget will be better for garage sales.
The next 2 weeks are going to be jam-packed. I wasn't necessarily expecting to find a new apartment until September 1, but when you find the right place, you jump on it. I'll be sorting and packing and dealing with the sad reality that I'll need to get rid of most of Caitlyn's baby stuff, because I probably won't actually get around to giving her a sibling, as much as I would like to.
If you don't hear from me for a while, just know I'm super busy being awesome. It's not you guys, it's me!
I gave it some time. I made it clear that I was not going to change my mind. When he insisted that he wanted to work it out, I pointed out to him that this was happening on my terms and if he really wanted to prove to me that he has changed, that he would need to stop fighting the inevitable. Still, he resisted. What he never seemed to grasp is the fact that the more he resisted, the more convinced he became that he could simply impose his will on me, the more he pushed me to get my ass in gear and leave.
Last week, I found a new apartment. On August 1, I will move on, really, truly and finally. I will be on my own for the first time in my life. And it feels great.
I'm really looking forward to not having to compromise on absolutely everything. I get it. Marriage is about compromise. Anyone who doesn't understand that should never get married. Generally, I'm pretty easy to get along with in that way. I have no problem compromising. With Rodolfo though, every decision down to the tiniest detail, was a power struggle. I could never simply decide anything, whether it was what time I should come home from a friend's house or the color I wanted to paint a wall. Everything was measured for my response. It seemed the more trivial it was, the more he insisted that I consider his "feelings" on the subject. And I mean, really, why does a grown man need to have "feelings" about his 30 year old wife coming home from a party past 11pm?
I spent the weekend bouncing around garage sales with Nadine, making simple decor decisions about my new home without having to consider the fact that Rodolfo doesn't like... let's go with anything. Or at least anything I might like. We found some really cool stuff. And can I say, on that note, why haven't I been doing this garage sale thing forever? I got a brand new box of glasses for $1. My budget will be better for garage sales.
The next 2 weeks are going to be jam-packed. I wasn't necessarily expecting to find a new apartment until September 1, but when you find the right place, you jump on it. I'll be sorting and packing and dealing with the sad reality that I'll need to get rid of most of Caitlyn's baby stuff, because I probably won't actually get around to giving her a sibling, as much as I would like to.
If you don't hear from me for a while, just know I'm super busy being awesome. It's not you guys, it's me!
Labels:
divorce is brutal,
husbands are stupid,
marriage
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Two
So I've been really busy whining and bitching about my problems and I forgot to mention something extremely important.
Yesterday was Caitlyn's second birthday.
The mood in my house has been... quietly tolerant, I guess? We haven't been fighting really, but we haven't been talking either. Still, it was Caitlyn's birthday and we were going to have to spend some time together.
I sort of got irrationally angry. By the time he showed up, I bitched him out a little about being late and didn't even mention the flowers I was holding. Then we went to Toys R Us.
After that we went to dinner and Caitlyn ate surprisingly well, which was nice. Then we went home and had cake. We sang "Happy Birthday" and she sang along with us. She blew out her candles. She had a great time and loved the shit out of her cake. She was the champion of birthdays.
So. Happy Birthday to my baby girl! Also, I promise next year I won't throw your party together at the very last minute.
Yesterday was Caitlyn's second birthday.
The mood in my house has been... quietly tolerant, I guess? We haven't been fighting really, but we haven't been talking either. Still, it was Caitlyn's birthday and we were going to have to spend some time together.
To make matters as awkward as humanly possible, Rodolfo sent flowers to my job yesterday. There was a card that simply said "I miss you. I'm sorry". I didn't quite know how to handle it. It made me emotional and sad, but not because I was questioning my decision to leave. I was mostly upset because of all days that I wanted nothing more than to pretend things were even slightly normal, it would have been yesterday. I did not want to have THAT conversation, the one where he thinks throwing me a bone once every 2 years and doing something nice makes up for everything else.
I was also worried about addressing it with anyone at work. Everyone is pretty friendly at my job, and inevitably someone would ask who sent them and why. Was it my birthday? Our anniversary? No. My husband doesn't send me gifts to be nice. He sends them when I tell him I'm leaving him! I guess I could lie, but I'm actually a pretty terrible liar, plus I was upset about the whole thing, so I was worried someone would ask and I'd start crying like an asshole. Luckily, it was late in the afternoon when the flowers arrived and no one passed my desk before I went home.
I mentioned that my car died and it's currently at my mechanic being fixed. Which means Rodolfo had to pick me up from the train station. He was 15 minutes late. There I was, standing in the rain, vase full of flowers in one hand, cake box in the other, waiting around for him to show up and missing even more of Caitlyn's birthday.
I sort of got irrationally angry. By the time he showed up, I bitched him out a little about being late and didn't even mention the flowers I was holding. Then we went to Toys R Us.
Toys R Us was the highlight of the night. Caitlyn spent the first 15 minutes or so wandering through the aisles, playing with anything that caught her interest until we found the place she really wanted to be: The car aisle.
Umm.. you guys? Shouldn't I have approximately 14 more years until she starts hounding me for a fucking CAR?
Anyway. She spent a solid 30 minutes climbing in and out of every car she could reach, trying to decide which $500 toy that I definitely can't afford/don't have the room for was her favorite. All of the electric cars were obviously not going to move, but once she got into that Cozy Coupe, I could not get her out of it. She spent another 15 pushing it around the store, or having Rodolfo push her around the store in it. Unfortunately, they actually only had the display available or I definitely would have bought it for her. I had to bribe her with an ice pop while Rodolfo ran away with it so she wouldn't start to cry.
So. Happy Birthday to my baby girl! Also, I promise next year I won't throw your party together at the very last minute.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Trials and Tribulations (and Shitty Fucking Fords)
Fuck. I really was planning on posting something a little... I don't know, funny? Not completely depressing maybe? I guess I'm just not in the right frame of mind to be funny again just yet.
Anyway, this weekend I had a little trial run of my near future. Nadine was going out of town and asked me to stay at her house and watch her cat while she was away. Besides that, she knew I could use a break from home. And so Caitlyn and I went and spent the weekend on our own.
You guys? It was fucking depressing and lonely. Everyone keeps telling me it will pass, this sadness about being alone for the first time in my life. But I'm struggling.
I suppose it's normal. Divorce isn't an easy thing. The thing is, I had such a nice time on vacation. Stress-free and relaxing and a break from the constant strain in my marriage. I guess I sort of expected it to be more like that. Except, well, I'm NOT on vacation anymore. I'm not surrounded by my friends all the time. I have responsibilities that I'm used to sharing that I now have to deal with on my own. And it sucks.
Part of it is that Rodolfo has been nicer to me since I told him I was leaving him than he's been in the last 6 years. He doesn't bust my balls about every little thing I do. I'm not constantly being picked apart. I have to keep reminding myself that this is the exception and not the rule. That he's being pleasant because he no longer has a stake in my life and so he doesn't care what I do.
This afternoon, we made our way back home and my car died on the highway. I tried my dad (yes, he's an asshole but an asshole with at least minor knowledge about car trouble) and then my sister. My dad wasn't answering his phone and my sister was at the zoo with her son. She was willing to come pick up me and Caitlyn, but I knew I couldn't leave my car on the side of the road. And so I caved and called Rodolfo. He left work to come help, and when he couldn't get my car home, he called a tow truck and drove us home.
A big part of the problem in my marriage has always been Rodolfo's insistence that I am incapable of doing anything "right". My car has always been one of the things he liked to bust my balls about. He would yell at me if he found a mess in my car. He would call me irresponsible if I went even a few miles over the recommended mileage for an oil change. He would insist that I shouldn't take my car more than a few miles because it was "about to die at any minute" (for the record, he's been saying that any time I went further than 10 miles for the last 4 years).
My point is that it was really hard for me to call him today and ask for his help. I hung up with him and started to cry. I felt like a failure. I half expected him to show up and ask me how I thought I could survive without him if I couldn't even get my car home without his help. He didn't say any of that, of course. No. He did what he always does: he fixed the problem and made sure Caitlyn and I were safe.
Sometimes it feels really hard to walk away from someone who always makes sure we are safe. And so I have to remind myself. I can do this on my own. It isn't a failure to call and ask for his help when his daughter is in the car too. Because before I met him, I wouldn't have called anyone crying. I'd have figured it out on my own. Because back then I believed I could do it on my own. And I know I can feel that way again. It's just going to take some time to adjust.
Anyway, this weekend I had a little trial run of my near future. Nadine was going out of town and asked me to stay at her house and watch her cat while she was away. Besides that, she knew I could use a break from home. And so Caitlyn and I went and spent the weekend on our own.
You guys? It was fucking depressing and lonely. Everyone keeps telling me it will pass, this sadness about being alone for the first time in my life. But I'm struggling.
I suppose it's normal. Divorce isn't an easy thing. The thing is, I had such a nice time on vacation. Stress-free and relaxing and a break from the constant strain in my marriage. I guess I sort of expected it to be more like that. Except, well, I'm NOT on vacation anymore. I'm not surrounded by my friends all the time. I have responsibilities that I'm used to sharing that I now have to deal with on my own. And it sucks.
Part of it is that Rodolfo has been nicer to me since I told him I was leaving him than he's been in the last 6 years. He doesn't bust my balls about every little thing I do. I'm not constantly being picked apart. I have to keep reminding myself that this is the exception and not the rule. That he's being pleasant because he no longer has a stake in my life and so he doesn't care what I do.
This afternoon, we made our way back home and my car died on the highway. I tried my dad (yes, he's an asshole but an asshole with at least minor knowledge about car trouble) and then my sister. My dad wasn't answering his phone and my sister was at the zoo with her son. She was willing to come pick up me and Caitlyn, but I knew I couldn't leave my car on the side of the road. And so I caved and called Rodolfo. He left work to come help, and when he couldn't get my car home, he called a tow truck and drove us home.
A big part of the problem in my marriage has always been Rodolfo's insistence that I am incapable of doing anything "right". My car has always been one of the things he liked to bust my balls about. He would yell at me if he found a mess in my car. He would call me irresponsible if I went even a few miles over the recommended mileage for an oil change. He would insist that I shouldn't take my car more than a few miles because it was "about to die at any minute" (for the record, he's been saying that any time I went further than 10 miles for the last 4 years).
My point is that it was really hard for me to call him today and ask for his help. I hung up with him and started to cry. I felt like a failure. I half expected him to show up and ask me how I thought I could survive without him if I couldn't even get my car home without his help. He didn't say any of that, of course. No. He did what he always does: he fixed the problem and made sure Caitlyn and I were safe.
Sometimes it feels really hard to walk away from someone who always makes sure we are safe. And so I have to remind myself. I can do this on my own. It isn't a failure to call and ask for his help when his daughter is in the car too. Because before I met him, I wouldn't have called anyone crying. I'd have figured it out on my own. Because back then I believed I could do it on my own. And I know I can feel that way again. It's just going to take some time to adjust.
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