Shut The Door

Now that the “cat is out of the bag” so to speak, I can also say that the drama was just getting started back then. How so much has changed in almost two months. Never in a million years would I have imagined having to witness some of the stuff that I’ve had to recently. I also never pictured being the person who sat silently while their ex poured their heart out about a baby and his disastrous relationship with his girlfriend, K. Even during some of the conversations we have now, it sometimes feels like an out of body experience. “Will K be coming to Thanksgiving dinner? Do they need to plan for the kids to be there?” and “Maybe she’s not the only one that needs to grow up if your relationship is going to work?” are two statements that have come out of my mouth tonight alone, and it feels so trippy. Sometimes, I sit and playback the conversations in my head and wonder who the hell I am and where the fuck did I misplace my dignity & self-respect? Then I remind myself that this isn’t just about me anymore.

So yes, things have been rather intense lately. There was a threatened miscarriage & hemorrhaging. Em was finally given the news about K’s pregnancy and she wasn’t exactly thrilled. Then there was police involvement, and a CPS investigation opened up on K, which is still active. Also, the reason why I can’t say much, just in case. There’s been an order of protection put in place and it came to light that there were also false accusations that were made. This was followed up with a breakup, a court order, and then K moving away. There’s been a lot of lying in between, and some pretty ridiculous behavior from both of them. Death threats were made against Beau by an ex of K’s and not so shockingly they mentioned knowing where I lived. That was a whole other ordeal. Beau’s house was broken into and a lot of things were doused in gasoline. Not even joking. Appointments were set with lawyers, and there have been visits with Beau’s probation officer. Police were called for a second and third time. Then, last week there were threats of abortion. Because, you know, treating a baby as a pawn in a game is totally healthy. And throughout all of this, Beau & K are off/on depending on the day. To add to the chaos I was also informed by my counselor that I could be pulled into the CPS investigation because K mentioned that Beau had another child. So, if they decided to look into both parties a bit deeper then they could very well show up at my home. And even though I know I’m not doing anything wrong, that is the LAST thing that I need right now.

This is why I’ve done the best that I can to move forward, and stay out of Beau and K’s business. As in, not putting my two cents in or giving advice. I’ve made myself compartmentalize all of my feelings about the situation too. Back in October, it took me a good two weeks of processing before I felt okay again after being informed about the pregnancy. Thankfully, one of my best friends sat with me through some of the darker days. Forcing me to purge all of the thoughts and feelings I had, without judgment. They patiently sat with me to watch countless cheesy movies while also allowing me to cry when I was feeling really sad. And they served as a tether that pulled me back down when my mind started drifting off. A grounding presence when everything around me felt like it was self-destructing with every move I made. I am forever grateful to this best friend of mine because without them I feel like I would have let my depression consume me a lot longer. But after two weeks of grieving and having some really amazing support from those closest to me, I was finally able to move past the sadness and anger. I fully accepted that this was out of my control. And the only thing I could really do was just be there for emotional support if either Beau or K needed it. Not that K would ever accept it, but I still needed to be open to her. I also needed to pray for this baby that was about to come into the world. That nothing bad would happen going forward, and that he/she was able to come into this life as healthy as possible despite K’s lack of self-care during this pregnancy.

By nature, I’m a worrier. I stress over things, and I go over so many different scenarios. I obsess over tiny little details and get fixated on what could have been done differently. Unlearning this way of thinking, and trusting that God has a plan has been one of the hardest things for me to do. And saying little prayers here and there is one of the few things that have been helping me get through it. It’s allowed me to think more positively about the future. It’s allowed me to accept that sometimes we don’t get what we want. Instead, we receive what we NEED. Everything comes on its own time, and when I start to feel those overwhelming emotions I just need to let them go. Instead of dwelling on them, I pray for my family. For Beau and K. For my nephew and my parents. And I pray for my daughter and her soon-to-be half-sibling. That they are allowed to be in our lives, for my daughter’s sake as well as their own. It’s also made me realize that I needed prayer for myself as well. And to be okay with asking others to keep me in their prayers during this time. Because I’m going to need God’s help in whatever comes next. As accepting as I am about the situation now, I know that there are still certain things that will come up that will feel like someone is pouring salt on an open wound. Like the day I was shown the sonograms. That was a pretty intense moment. Then there was the moment when I had to see K with a baby bump and knowing that I’d probably never get to experience that ever again definitely stirred up some hurt. Jealousy and anger too. But the next milestone will be finding out the gender, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for that yet. If K’s having a boy I feel like that will hurt me so much more than if she were to have a girl because I wanted to be the one to give Em a baby brother. As if I had any kind of say in that, to begin with. So, I’m constantly having to tell myself that this is in God’s hands now. The only thing I can really do is pray and give it over to his plan. 

On top of everything going on, did I mention that Beau’s currently sleeping on my couch at night? Since K wasn’t paying the bills and hadn’t been for the past month, all of the utilities were turned off. When we had below-freezing temperatures last week I allowed him to crash on my couch and to store some of his equipment in my shed in the backyard. That’s when he informed me that two weeks ago he was told by his landlords that they would not be allowing him to renew his lease. Of course, none of this is my responsibility and I’m fully aware of this. I’m also not naive enough to believe that Beau had no idea that bills were not being paid. However, that didn’t stop me from feeling pretty bad about him not having heat, electricity, or running water. I did tell him that this was temporary, and only for getting rest at night. If he’s not here by the time Em and I are ready for bed then he has to find someplace else to go. I also made it very clear that I expected him to have a plan by this weekend because my couch was only available for so long. And I really need to get back to my own life. A life without all of the petty drama and negativity that he can’t seem to stay away from. But do you wanna know something interesting? Our time together has actually made me realize a few things. It’s shown me that the person who stands in my kitchen, who sits on my couch, who cracks jokes with Em, or occasionally, I catch watching me as I fold laundry - is not the same person I married eleven years ago. I can see the subtle changes in his face, his demeanor, and the more drastic ones in his eyes. He’s not the same person that I fell in love with all of those years ago. And while I will always love him, always wanting the best for him, somewhere along these past two months I did what I never thought I’d ever be able to do. I uncurled my fingers, wiped away the tears, and let “us” go. I let go of the possibilities and the “what could have been's”. And y’all, I survived it. I quietly, but firmly, shut the door on that life and I finally said goodbye. 

Thanksgiving Day 2016

Finality

written on 10/7/19

On Saturday night, I had the metaphorical rug pulled from underneath me. Again. It had already been an emotional day and I was just coming off of one pretty intense anxiety attack when my phone pinged. And just like that, I felt like my world was crumbling all over again. My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my throat, my hands went numb, and the tears just started to fall. I could taste the acid of my vomit stinging my throat as it made its way up and I clamped my mouth shut. My thoughts raced as I let out an angry growl, and I could feel the anger and sadness building in my chest. I felt sick to my stomach and I shook as I sat in my car. It took a dose of my anxiety medication, and a lot of deep breathing to finally calm down. I started trying to ground myself with anything that I could touch; the steering wheel, my necklace. I sat in my running vehicle just staring for what felt like hours. In reality, it was only thirty minutes because my phone pinged notifying me that it was time to put on a brave face and pick up my daughter. I had to swallow the pain and numb myself to the news I had just received. This was only the beginning of the hurt to come, though. But I couldn't allow myself to breakdown in front of Em again.

There were a lot of “I’m so fucking sorry.” and “I don’t want this.” There was, “We don’t even know if it’s mine.” and “She’s not even a mom to her own kids, I don’t want her having one of mine.” And the one that drove a knife right through my side was, “They’re not my family. She’s nothing. I don’t even like them; you and Emery are my family.” And the only thing I could think to say was, “It’s too late to take it back now…” You see, about the middle of September, Beau seemed to have this realization. He called in the middle of the night, and he asked about getting help. About how he wanted to do better for our daughter. He had said that the life he was living was not the one that he wanted. At 2 am, these all seemed like really positive things and they gave me a bit of hope. Not for us, but for him. That maybe he was finally starting to see that the path he was on was only going to lead to more bad things. And if he actually got help, then maybe a few years from now we could try to put some of the shattered pieces back together. Not necessarily in order to get back together, though I may have been open to it later down the road I wouldn't really hold my breath. Instead, I just wanted him to be better. Happier and healthier. Because I want him to be in a good place. I don’t want to see him addicted to drugs or struggling. I can’t stand to see him hurting. Hell, I can’t even be angry at him for any of what has happened, including this. Instead, I just break my own heart, over and over again, because I know that there is very little that I wouldn’t do for this man. Even now. 

In all honesty, my initial reaction was not one that I’m proud of. “Well, there are three options,” I thought to myself when Beau said, “I don’t want this.” Later, I asked for forgiveness because, in my heart, I know that there are only two. This was just my knee jerk reaction of “fixing” his problems for him. But if I'm being honest, deep down, I always knew that this would happen. I just thought I’d have more time. More time to move on, and be okay. More time to get used to this new life. I was barely in the process of getting information on the annulment process. I was finally off of all my medication. I was starting to feel calm and happier. I felt really good about the boundaries I had set up while still being there for him in reasonable ways. And I knew in my heart, that one day he’d probably find someone that he loved just as much as I had loved him. That they’d get married and have kids. But this? I didn’t want it to happen like this. For a child to be brought into this world by off/on addicts. To have a young girl for a mother who already puts her other children off on anyone who is willing to take them. They bounce between dads, relatives, and friends because she can’t bother to be a full-time mom. And I didn’t want Em to have a half-sibling that she may not ever be able to see or have in her life because they could get taken away or sent off elsewhere. And if I’m being really, really honest, I never wanted to have to share the gift of motherhood that he gave me, with anyone else. At least not yet; not now. But here we are...

The timing of this just seemed so cruel to me and I felt myself slipping right back into my depression. I’ve spent the last 48 hours crying. It comes in waves and sometimes I have no idea why the tears choose to come at the most inconvenient times. Like yesterday morning, when I decided to run bleachers. My vision became blurry, I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe, and it was followed by a lot of sobbing. When I finally got to the bottom of the last row I just slumped over. Snot running down my nose; eyes swollen. Then when I went to my parents' house in order to get Emery about forty minutes later and my mom asked me, “What’s wrong? I can feel that there’s something really wrong.” I couldn’t keep my composure for more than five minutes. I just stood there in front of her with tears running down my face as I prepared my coffee. Shaking as I stirred the liquid in my cup for what seemed like hours. And she hugged me as I let it all out. “Oh, mija, we all hoped. We prayed for you and Beau to be a family again someday. But now you really have to let go,” she said between my sobs. And somehow that made me feel both better and worse.

Later that night, I sat in a daze just staring out the window with my thoughts racing. A baby with someone else makes our end so final. Permanent. It extinguishes any flicker of light that was still glowing. And I have no one else to blame for these hurt feelings but myself. Because this is what hope gets you. This is what the painful side of loving someone unconditionally looks like. And this is the hurt you go through when it’s unrequited. This is so much more painful than I ever imagined. And I’m so tired of feeling it. Of dealing with it. I’m so tired of hurting. I just want it to stop. I want this to be over.

No One Tells You

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

written on 8/9/19

When I realized my marriage was deteriorating, I kept thinking about something one of Beau’s uncles told us during our California trip several years ago. He said, “I’m proud of you both. I’m proud of you for sticking through it. For not giving up. Family is such an important thing and you’re doing this for her. She’ll grow up with two parents who love her and she’ll have a family. So, I’m really proud of you.” And those words stayed with me during that entire trip. They still linger in my heart to this day. When Beau and I first got together I was welcomed into his family with open arms. In the blink of an eye, I had double holidays, birthdays, and cookouts to attend. I had gained an extended family and in case you haven’t noticed, my family is a really big deal to me. 

So, I carried those words with me. With every slamming of a door. Every object thrown in anger. The names and the yelling. The drugs, affairs, and altercations. I would think back to those words and I’d tell myself, “Not yet. You can’t let go yet.” I kept trying and trying to make things work. To put a bandaid over what was happening, and tell myself that if I just stayed the course everything would work out. It would get better, I just had to be patient. But it wasn’t. And when the time finally came to uncurl my fingers I felt like I had let them all down. I told myself, “This is it. You’re going to lose so much more than just him.” And I wasn’t necessarily wrong. I was told so many times, “It doesn’t matter, you and Em will always be family.” I wanted to believe those words every time I forced myself to smile through the sadness. I wanted to believe that one of them would tell B, “You may not want her in your life but she will always be family to us.” Not surprisingly, other than with my sister-in-law, this didn't ever happen. Instead, I slowly started hearing less and less from them. And I knew that things were going to change, but even when you expect it, that pill can still be a hard one to swallow. 

You see, no one tells you how much it hurts to be slowly pushed out of a family. Sure it’s one that you married into, but there are still bonds that you create with them. No one tells you how much it sucks when texts go ignored and plans you ask to make never actually happen. No one tells you how much it hurts to find out that not only is your former spouse replacing you, but eventually, so will their family. Soon this other “woman” will be the one invited to dinners, holiday get-togethers, birthday celebrations, and cookouts. She’ll be sitting in rooms and taking up space that used to belong to you. And the only reason you’ll ever be contacted by that former family is to find out if your daughter will be allowed to accompany her father and his girlfriend to whatever family function is taking place if it's not his weekend. No one tells you how upsetting it can be to see your place within a family be erased. To see someone else fill that void as if you had never been there at all. No, no one bothers to tell you any of that at all.

Having to accept this truth, this untangling of our family ties has not been an easy thing for me to deal with. I hope that one day when the dust settles I’ll still have some of them in my life. At the very least, I hope Em still has them in her’s. But I also hope that we can all get through this awkward phase one day; this in-between. I hope that one day I won’t be sad over the ones who chose to distance themselves but instead be grateful for the ones who still found it in their hearts to love me when everything fell apart.

Boundaries, Closure, and Chapters

I’ll be the first to admit that I completely suck at establishing and maintaining boundaries. If you’ve read anything having to do with my marriage and it’s ending then you’ll know this too. I would draw this line in the sand, and as soon as Beau would cross it I would just take a few steps back and redraw it. I gave ultimatums without really having the intention of following through. Even after we were divorced I let so many things slide. “All for the sake of making things work,” I’d tell myself. Then when I finally had the balls to ask him to leave, within a day, I wondered if I had been too harsh? Was there some other way for us to fix things that I hadn’t yet thought of? Maybe he had been telling the truth this time? And slowly, I’d find myself back at square one. Back to redrawing lines and letting my boundaries fade away.

When his car broke down, I let him use mine. When he needed gas I would put some in his tank. When his probation officer threatened to revoke his probation due to unpaid court/check-in fees, there I went to pay them off. When he needed to get his license reinstated and take the drivers test, I was there to let him use my car. When he needed to put his portion of the deposit down for a house that he and his “not girlfriend but totally his girlfriend” would be living in, can you guess who helped him? When the car he was using needed repairs, I got them taken care of. When he was short on first month’s rent, he came to me. And every time I went grocery shopping I would grab a few of his favorite snacks and drinks which he’d pick up after dropping Emery off. If there was a problem or something wasn’t going right he would call or text. “What do you think? What do I do?”, he’d ask. “I just need to talk to you,” he’d say.

Some of you are probably sitting there thinking, “WTF, RAQUEL?!?!” And I get it. In my measly defense, when all of this was going on I was also being given a completely different story. I guess I was partially being hopeful; partially in denial. When I told him I wasn’t buying the whole “not my girlfriend” relationship he had going on he grew upset. “Stop saying that!” he’d say in a raised voice. “She’s NOT my girlfriend,” he’d insist. He’d send me lengthy messages about how much he missed us. How he had messed up and needed to figure out what to do to make things right. He’d send me these songs and talk about how they reminded him of us. The good history. We did family dinners, and he would come over to spend time with Emery almost every afternoon. He’d take out the trash on Wednesday’s so I wouldn’t have to. He would let me know ahead of time if he would need to switch his days. He started attending Emery’s after school activities, and school programs. He’d check on the dogs when we had storms roll through and I was at work. He even mowed the yard, y’all! And you know, for the most part, we were communicating really well. So, it felt nice. Sometimes I’d catch myself thinking, “Why the hell wasn’t he like this before? It’s all I had ever asked of him.” And naturally, I felt a lot of confusion. I felt like I was stuck between holding on and permanently letting go. Prying my fingers off slowly; one at a time. But you can only stay stuck in place for so long. Eventually, everything around you starts moving forward whether you want it to or not. And then your eyes begin to focus. 

Just like with everything else that’s new, the shimmer fades, and you start to see things for what they really are. This wasn’t some miracle of having my family put back together. I get that some change is being attempted on his end, and I’m grateful for that. Super fucking grateful. But you can’t have one foot in and the other out. You can’t live out both lives until you’ve “figured things out”. That’s not fair to anyone involved in the situation. So, on the day before he left out of state, I decided that I needed to be clear about the boundaries I felt that I needed in my life. Not for him. Not for my daughter. FOR ME. And I laid it all out: Don’t come over without calling first. He and his girlfriend needed to do their laundry elsewhere. No one was allowed at my house during drop off/pick up unless I had okayed it. Otherwise, we could start doing exchanges in front of the police department. I don’t want to be contacted for any more favors. He and his girlfriend needed to start figuring out the solutions to problems on their own. Making sure everything was okay for him was no longer my responsibility. Unless it's  1) an emergency or 2) has to do with Emery then I don’t want to hear about it. I don't want any more songs or late night paragraphs claiming that he “missed” me being sent to my phone. And once he was back from working out of state I wanted us to stick with the visitation schedule as best as we could. It was officially time for him to start figuring things out for himself. 

After I was done stating my needs I asked that he respect my wishes, and so far he has. The majority of things have been going rather smoothly. I can tell that I’m finally dusting myself off and moving forward with my own life. And now the sting in my heart is starting to lessen with each passing day. It's becoming easier to breathe around him when he has to come over on his days. Easier to be in his presence and not feel like I'm still grieving this huge loss. Of course, there have been a few tough moments here and there. There have been days of weakness where I wanted to have myself a good cry. Days when the memories hit so hard that I lose my breath. Times when I doubt myself. Doubt my own worth. But then, there are the moments when I get so angry at him that I want to scream, “Fuck you for hurting me. Fuck you for lying. Fuck you for being so awful to me. Fuck you for not wanting me. Fuck you for making me lose myself. Fuck you for always wanting what was on the other side and not tending to us. Fuck you for making me feel invisible and unlovable. And fuck you for not seeing ME as ENOUGH.” But I bite my tongue. I push the words back down my throat because it doesn't even matter anymore. There were several times when I could have been petty as hell about certain things. I could have made things extremely difficult for him. I could have shown his girlfriend the texts I was getting. Could have caused a scene. I could have plastered all of the dirt for his entire family to see the truth rather than allow for everything to be blamed on me. But I could never bring myself to do it. Even after everything, I could never, ever, hurt him like that. And I hope that one day he truly sees that for what it is. Sees that my love was still right there to the very end. No hate in my heart. 

One afternoon, when I was scolding myself for not willingly using the ammunition I had to my advantage, a good friend of mine asked, "Okay. But what would you gain?" I looked over at them surprised and answered, “What do you mean, what would I gain? It would make me feel better!” He looked over, “Yea, but for how long? Would it change your situation? Would it change him?” I sat there for a few moments letting his words sink in. And of course, he was right. Sure I may get a bit of satisfaction at first. But then what? I’d feel horrible. There would be more turmoil. I’d be turning into someone that I didn’t respect. And it wouldn’t change a damn thing. So, instead, I chose kindness. I chose to accept an apology I would never get; no matter how much I felt that I needed it. Instead, I chose to feel the heartache, the pain, and to slowly work through my emotions. I chose to finally be firm with the boundaries I had put in place. No more redrawing lines, no more ultimatums, and no more letting things slide. It was finally time for me to let go. It was time for this chapter to finally come to a close.  

Life At The Moment

Recently, I've felt myself become increasingly isolated. I'm not exactly sure if it's because of a step I need to go through in order to process what's currently going on, or if it's just another wave of depression that will eventually taper off. Whatever it is, for some reason this sadness and need to be alone feels different this time. And yet, I honestly don't feel like doing much about it other than letting it run its course. 

Beau officially moved out right before our daughter's birthday last month. It felt completely terrifying but completely necessary. I can still see him shoving things into suitcases, and blaming me for everything that had gone wrong. I can still hear the door slamming which made everything feel so damn final. However, since then, we've actually done okay. He has roommates and is currently looking for his own place. He comes over once a week to do laundry and sometimes stays for a family dinner or to help get Emery ready for bed. And once a week Emery goes over to his place when his roommates are working in order to spend a few hours with him. For the most part, we communicate via text when it's about Emery. And I make sure to include him on decisions pertaining to her. I've recently heard that he's seeing someone, but we have an agreement that no partners will be introduced to Emery unless the relationship has lasted between four to six months. I've also asked to not be given names until it's absolutely necessary for me to know. Even with everything that's happened in the past, having a name is just not something that I'm ready for yet. Thankfully, this is something that we were able to agree on fairly easily. 

Emery has handled everything very well from what I can see. I've spoken to her teacher and the school counselor which have both said that she's doing great. I sat down to have a talk with her about how she was feeling, and she said that she was okay. There was no fighting anymore so she was just happy about that. Still, I told her if there was anything that she felt she needed to talk about that she could always come to me. And if for some reason she didn't feel like talking to me that she could always talk to the school counselor. She's insisted that she doesn't need to, but promised that she would bring it up if that ever changed. I'm really, really, proud of her. I know that things haven't been easy for her and that she's seen/heard a lot that a child her age should never have been subjected to. I don't think I'll ever be able to do enough to make that up to her. But she hasn't let a lot of this impact her in a negative way. I hope that never changes either. 

I've been doing okay. Though, as I mentioned above, I feel like I'm slowly isolating myself from others. Immediate family excluded. Living alone with my daughter has proved to be a bigger adjustment than I thought it would be. Before, even though we were divorced, Beau was still here in our home with me. There was another body taking up space in our house. Another energy. Weirdly, I felt safer knowing that someone else was here. Now that he's not it's been strange for me. The other day, he came back over after accidentally grabbing one of my shirts while doing laundry earlier that day. With a laugh, he apologized and mentioned that he hadn't realized it was mine until after he had put it on. "I know how you are about your clothes so I'm bringing it back." With a wave, he headed back to the car, and as I locked the door I found myself bringing the shirt up to sniff. "Ugh, it better not smell like cigarettes," I thought. And it didn't. Instead, it smelled like him, his body soap, and his cologne. And a lot of emotions hit me at once. I slid down to the floor and started crying. I missed that smell. I missed rolling over in bed and hugging him from behind. Burying my nose in his neck, and letting that scent take over. That night I slept in that damn shirt. My reaction kind of threw me off for a few days too. Now, I know our situation is exactly where it needs to be. I know that we are better apart than we are together. I know that this is the right things for us. I just didn't realize how hard the memories would hit. I didn't realize just how alone I felt until after that night.

So, I've been allowing myself to feel however I need to feel without letting it become overwhelming. On days when I miss Beau, I allow myself to miss him. I tell myself that it's perfectly normal to feel that way. When I find myself getting angry for what he did and continues to do, I allow it. It's okay to feel mad. To feel disappointed. When I find myself thinking of all the good memories I tell myself to hold onto those tightly. Because it wasn't all bad and I need to remember that. As long as I don't allow myself to stay there, in those emotions for too long, it's all okay to feel. Bottling things up or denying how I'm feeling won't help in the long run. Part of me thinks this is why I've closed myself off from people. I feel like I need to go through this privately. I need to work through this on my own. And sometimes, that's a lonely process. I'm sure I'll get back to my normal soon. I'm sure I'll bounce back better than ever. But for now, this is how I'm choosing to get through this particular chapter of mine. I just hope that the people in my life can understand that this is what I need.  

What Now?

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the past. Not in a negative way necessarily. I’ve been trying to dissect certain moments in life. I’ve been wondering about how things would have turned out had I made other choices. And I’ve been evaluating what qualities I like in others. In myself. I’m trying to make sense of where I’m at right now, and what I want for the future. Which, if I’m being honest, the future kind of freaks me out. Sometimes, I find myself sitting in my car staring at the wall of my carport in confusion. Because, what the fuck? How did I even get here in life? Before I had these roles: a loving mother and wife. Though I may not have excelled at either, I tried my best. I actually think I’m rockin’ the whole mom thing, but that’s just my opinion. Either way, there was a plan. A somewhat clear picture of what I hoped my life would turn out like. But now I find myself at a point where one of those titles has been stripped away. Which was a really long drawn out, and weird experience for me. You'd think I'd had enough time to process, right? So, now that everything has changed, finalized, I find myself constantly asking myself, “What now?”

Half of the time I just feel a bit lost. I feel like I’m going about my day in this routine because it’s what I’ve always done. I feel sad on some days, and to be honest a bit lonely. Though, I think these are both good things. Positive things. It’s forcing me to acknowledge that my life is truly different now. That I need to be okay with being alone too. Whether I accept that or not, well, that’s still to be seen. But I believe it’s progress. For a long time now I’ve been stuck in this cycle of sorts and it’s about time that I start moving forward. At the moment, I’m just trying to adjust as much as possible to what our new normal will be like. I’m trying to process all of my emotions in a healthy way. With running, and meditation. I vent to my sister-in-law, who’s probably sick of me repeating myself, but she’s always there to listen. Thank you, Kim. I talk to my mother about how I feel and lean on her for support when I start to feel low. Or when I find myself in need of some retail therapy. Thank you, Mom. I just never imagined that my future would have this great big question mark staring me down. And for once, I can honestly say that I have no clue what’s next for me. Which has actually been really eye-opening? And a little scary. I mean, have I really been floating through life just...existing? Do, I really not have anything that’s unique about me? Aside from being a mother what the hell do I want out of life? How do I see myself, aside from being a parent? What are my goals? What are my ambitions? What do I like? What do I want for myself? The honest answer to most of those questions is, “I don’t know.” And I find that a bit troubling.

What I am certain of is that I need to figure all of this out. I need to keep asking the hard questions. I need to continue to explore myself. Because there has to be more. I can’t keep staying in one place, repeating a cycle, for fear of what the future holds. And I can’t continue being scared of what I might find at the end of all of this. I need answers of my own. I need to know who I am apart from everyone else, and I plan to do just that. 

Needing Some Peace

Today, I kind of just wanted to sit down in my room and write whatever comes to mind. See what comes pouring out. Where my thoughts take me. Though, I’m afraid it won’t be all that cheerful. At least, the details won’t be. Still, it’s a part of our story. My story. And well, here goes.

Recently, I discovered a few troubling things in regards to Beau. To say that they infuriated me would be an understatement. I felt like going into his “studio” (partial room in my home), and ripping everything apart. I wanted to pack everything up in boxes and scrub the walls of anything having to do with him. I wanted to yell, “WHY THE FUCK DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS?! Is this really how you’re choosing to repay my kindness?!” I wanted to shake him so hard that I could hear his teeth rattle. But I also wanted to be wrong. I wanted it to be paranoia on my part. For there to be some reasonable explanation. I wanted to be able to hug him and say, “I’m sorry I doubted you. Thank you for proving me wrong.”

Up until this point, I would say that I have been very kind, and amicable. I have been more than tolerable and accommodating. I have helped him when he’s asked for it, and I haven’t asked for anything in return. Because I do not want him to fail. God, how I want him to thrive. I want him to be at peace. I want him to be a great father. To find love that makes him so fucking happy. I truly want so much good for him because after everything he was put through he deserves to have a wonderful life. In November, I recall standing in front of him saying, “I love you. I love you so damn much. But I’m not good for you. I enable you & I bring out some of the worst behavior. I have let so many things slide for too many years which you’ve never been held accountable for so you think it’s okay. But it’s not. And I want you to want to be a better person for your daughter. For yourself. I want you to be happy. And if that means taking myself out of the picture then I love you enough to do it.”

So, instead of doing all of those things I stated above I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. I decided to push back what I felt, and what my gut was telling me in order to trust that if there was anything that I needed to be informed of he would tell me. But a day later I was proven wrong in making that decision, and I felt such disappointment. But most of all I felt this overwhelming sadness for him. Since that day, I’d say that I’ve felt myself close off from him completely. I’ve asked that he speed up the process of moving out too. Because not only is he putting my daughter and I at risk, but he’s also being extremely disrespectful towards me. And he’s very much a trigger for my mental health issues. The anxiety, depression, low self-esteem, and anger. A lot of it starts to come at me a lot harder when he’s around. When we’re both in the house I’m always tense, anxious, or worried. There’s always some kind of drama or waves of anger. Not always about us or towards me, but it’s felt. There’s always something going wrong or yelling. There are days when hateful words are being shouted, and cabinets are being slammed. I’m constantly having to pause before entering my own house to take a deep breath and brace myself for who I’ll find inside. Will it be the calm person? The happy person? The angry man wanting to lash out? And y’all, it’s exhausting. I’d say about 40% of these things are aimed at me while the other 60% are aimed at other people in his life. But regardless, I have to be there to deal with it. And, I’m tired.

What really opened my eyes was when he spent the weekend with some friends out of town. I could feel the whole house change in his absence. We woke up early, we cleaned, and all of the curtains were open. There was light in all of the rooms, and my house didn’t smell of cigarettes. There was no yelling or cursing. Instead, there was singing, dancing, and laughter. There was this calm that fell over us and it was so nice. The first full day that he was back we started talking about finances, and that quickly led to an argument. Our daughter came into the room screaming, “ENOUGH! STOP IT! STOP FIGHTING!” We both stopped talking, and he turned around to tell her to hush because sometimes this was just how life was. I stood there looking at him, stunned, as our little girl ran into the living room in tears. When I followed to console her she said: “Why can’t you and dad go one day without fighting?” And she’s right. A bit exaggerated, but we have been arguing a lot more lately. As I sat there hugging her I knew that our living situation was just not working anymore. The time had arrived for us to set a plan in motion and have dates set for when he would be moving out. I sat with Emery and told her that in this case, her father was wrong. This is NOT how life is supposed to be. And she deserved better from us. So, I promised her that I’d do my part to smooth things over until we had a plan. I told her that soon we’d have some calm in our home, and things would get better. And that’s what I’m hoping for. What I’m working towards. I truly feel like it's time for us to finally close the door on this part of our lives. For us to go our separate ways and start our new journeys. I feel like we all need this right now. And if I have to be the one to step up and demand it, I will. Because we all deserve some peace. 

What's Next For Us?

Well, that's a pretty loaded question if I'm being honest. It’s been a little over two weeks since everything changed for us. It’s still a really weird feeling to know that I’m divorced- I don’t even like to say it out loud. Since last week’s posts things have calmed down, and we’ve managed to smooth over a lot. By the end of this month Beau will be out of state for work if everything goes accordingly so we’re trying to come up with a good game plan and schedule together. We’ve talked more about our future living arrangements. And last week it was officially decided that Emery and I would stay in our current home while Beau was on the road. Since he’ll only be coming down once a month he can stay in Emery’s room, and be able to spend time with her. This will also give him some time to save in order to get his own place when he’s back permanently. Originally, I had planned to move out. Which, I’ll be honest, was a hard decision but one I was willing to follow through with because I have family that will help me out by giving me a place to stay until I get on my feet. Where Beau does not. Our rent is really affordable and he knew that he could swing that with his single income. Plus he’d have the extra room for when Emery went to stay with him. And that was one of the main reasons why I was okay with being the one to move. However, after talking it over some more we realized that this was a better decision in the long run and less disruptive for Emery. So, we ended up contacting our current landlord and asked that they keep Beau in mind if anything of theirs becomes available in February or March. Within the same price range as what we currently have. They agreed to contact us first if anything opens up.

Now, my daughter has been at the forefront of my mind for all of my decisions. She's the main reason for why I'm keeping my head up, and looking at things from a place of love rather than anger. Keeping things civil. Keeping things honest. Keeping things positive. When I first said that this was the end of the line for me in our relationship Beau said, “This isn’t right. She deserves to have two parents under one roof with her.” And he’s right. Ideally, that would have been the preferable outcome. She does deserve to have two parents under one roof. Parents that get along. Parents that have their shit together. Parents who can have disagreements without yelling or name calling. Parents who show respect for one another. But then I recalled a conversation she and I had on our way to school one morning where she said, “Mommy, I don’t ever want to get married.” When I asked her why she had such a strong opinion against marriage she responded with, “Because that just means a lot of fighting and arguing like you and daddy. And no one is ever happy.” When I told Beau about this he sighed heavily before letting out an “Okay”. I’d like to think that something clicked for him that night. That he realized what our relationship looked like to our daughter. A bad one. And that he knew it was better for us to get along, and be separate than to continue on for the sake of being able to say she had two parents under one roof. 

So, on December 1st, I officially sat down with Emery to let her know what was going on. I expressed how much we both love her. “Oh, I know mommy.” I told her about us discussing living arrangements, and that we’d let her know as soon as we made a decision. “You mean I’ll get to live in two different houses? That’s kind of cool. Can I decorate however I want?” And then we both let her know that she could talk to us about anything. That each of us were always going to be available to her. “I know. I get it. Everything is going to be okay mommy.” We went over a few other things about feelings, and missing each other. She had a few questions and I did my best to answer them. The whole thing ended in a lot of hugs, kisses, and “I love you’s”. So now that everything has officially been decided I’ve been doing a lot of cleaning, and donating items I don’t need anymore. Clothes, shoes, books. Emery was just excited that she didn’t have to pack up ALL of her things just yet. “When daddy gets a house I only have to pack half of my stuff? Sweet!”, she exclaimed when I informed her of what we were doing. I feel like this is just another adventure for her. When I asked how she felt about one day having two homes she said that she was fine with it. That she knew other kids who had divorced parents so it wasn’t going to be weird. And even though this is not something I ever wanted her to experience I’m relieved that she’s handling things so well. Especially for her age. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s handling this a lot better than I am. Kids, right?

For now we’re just trying to go about life as normal as possible. We still do a lot of things together as a family. I know some would argue that this can be confusing for our daughter, but we've been very clear about what is happening. I even took Beau as my plus one to the company Christmas party. We had decided on it a few months ago, and we actually had a good time. Our Christmas Day and New Years plans are still the same too. We've always split the day between our families and have no interest in changing that up. However, the dynamic in our relationship has noticeably shifted. Speaking for me anyway. The sadness is still there, but it’s also mixed in with some hope. Hope for a calmer future. For a co-parenting relationship that sets a good example. Hope that our daughter won’t need over a year's worth of therapy to overcome the negative outlook she has on marriage because of us. Ha! Too soon? All jokes aside, Beau is someone that I love and care deeply about. And this was not how I wanted things to turn out for us. But since they have I want us to be able to move forward in life in an amicable and loving way. No more anger. So here we go, y’all. Onward and upward. New chapters and shit. 

And that's about as much as I’d like to disclose in regards to this part of my life. For now. Obviously things change all of the time, but Christmas is right around the corner and I want to spend it with my family. All of them.  I have one more week of work and then it will be ten whole days of getting to enjoy Christmas, family time, and ring in the New Year with the people I love most. I don't want to stress or think about all of the changes that are coming at us full force in the next few months. I just want to enjoy this time. Peace, love, and life-- you know? So, I really want to end 2018 in a good, happy, and positive way. And if you don’t mind, send us some good vibes or prayers as we start to navigate our new normal in life please? It'd be greatly appreciated. 💓

Divorce - Part Two

I love my husband. I want to be clear about that. One night, my sister-in-law told me that she couldn’t understand why I let him get away with everything, and allow him to treat me so badly. I sat with her and tried my best to explain the “why” behind my love for him. It’s because deep down I know he’s a good person. I know he's a great father. I know he loves our daughter. I know that a lot of the pain and trauma he experienced growing up has a lot to do with how he handles things. How he treats and talks to people. And even with all of the negative I wrote about in part one, there was still A LOT of wonderful moments that happened this year too. We shared a lot of laughs. We celebrated birthdays. We got through a surgery, and at home physical therapy. We took a vacation in New Mexico. We spent evenings as a family playing board games and curled up on the couch watching movies. Afternoons at the park, and dinners at our favorite restaurants. There was love and intimacy. Moments where I sat back and thought, “THIS. This is what it’s all about.” We actually got along much better this year than we have in the past five years. It just wasn’t enough to dismiss everything else. I couldn’t keep making excuses for the behavior, and outburst that were clearly inexcusable.

But I will always love him. I will always want the very best for him. Even if it can’t be with me. I still plan to continue helping him out whenever I am able to because there is no hate or resentment in my heart for him. Despite how toxic we are as a couple, pushing each other’s buttons, we actually do really well with co-parenting. Having each other’s backs when our daughter starts to push her boundaries. We do really well when it comes to everything else, BUT our marriage it seems. We can joke around, and be in the same home without issue. We can talk about the past and the future without incident. However, there are things we need to work on. His temper, his anger, the way he lashes out, and his addiction issues. I’m not just talking drugs; he's currently clean and on probation. None of these are things that I can fix for him. No matter how much I wish that I could. He has to put in that work if he wants to change. And he needs to find what makes him whole, what gives him peace, and what makes him happy. I, on the other hand, need to stop being the crutch, and the fixer of everything. The one who enables his behavior. I need to stop being so controlling and learn how to fully let go of the past. I need to learn how to admit when I’m wrong too. To speak up in the moment rather than letting it fester. Ignoring all of the problems has only gotten us a toxic relationship. For so long I allowed all of the burdens to fall on me because I wanted to make things easy for him. To protect him and give him what he never had growing up: unconditional love. And that did way more harm than good. It didn’t allow him to grow or be responsible for his actions. Then there were all of the things that we left unsaid, or refused to address. The grudges that we held onto just ended up turning us into people that couldn’t get along. A broken family that was trying to force itself into something that didn’t fit anymore. And I know that my daughter deserves so much better than that. I deserve better than that. He deserves better than that.

The night before our divorce was to be finalized through the court I put our daughter to bed, and we talked. We spoke about the good memories. We talked about the reasons why our marriage had failed. Each of us taking responsibility for the areas that we were at fault for. We laid everything out. There were apologies, tears, expressed regret, smiles, and laughs. We talked about our daughter and wanting the best for her. We talked about the reasons why we never had another child. I spoke about how much love I still had for him, but that I needed him to understand why we weren't working anymore. We talked about wanting to continue being a family even if it was going to look a little different from now on. He will always be Emery's father, and I will always want him in her life. We talked about future living arrangements that would need to be made sooner rather than later. We talked about being each other’s biggest supporters, and wanting the best for each other. We both admitted that there were a lot of things that we each needed to work on individually, but we made a promise to always put our daughter’s well-being first. To get along for her sake no matter what the future held for us. We spent over an hour in conversation, and it ended with “I love you’s”. When I finally went to sleep that night I felt at peace about our situation.

On November 28th, I walked into the courtroom a ball of nerves and knots inside of my stomach. I sat there quietly as the docket was read. My lawyer explained that there would be a series of questions, and then the judge would sign off on our paperwork. When my turn came I focused solely on my lawyer as I answered what was being asked. Any chance of reconciliation? No. Was I pregnant? No. Did I understand what I was asking the court? Yes. Did we agree on the division of assets? Yes. And after five more minutes of questioning the judge re-read the decree before stamping the document. And that was it. Ten years of marriage had officially come to an end. It felt surreal and sad. I walked out of the building as quickly as I could. I was now an ex-wife. A divorcee. And I felt like throwing up on the sidewalk outside of the courthouse. But I didn’t. Instead, I went to work. I stayed positive and finished my day on a good note. I loved on my daughter, and we all sat down to watch a Hallmark movie together. We cooked dinner and talked about each of our day's. The upcoming dance and recital, that both he and I were making sure to have marked on our phone calendars. Both so excited, and proud of our little girl.  

I pushed every little emotion down until the very end of our day. Moving through the motions. After Emery was asleep and my now ex-husband was sitting in the computer room doing some work I closed myself off in the bathroom. In the shower is where I finally let myself cry. I sat down, arms wrapped around my legs, and I felt a numbness spread across my chest. Overwhelming sadness. Because even though I knew we were doing the right thing it didn’t make it any easier. Just the thought of us going our separate ways soon is enough to make me catch my breath. Living in separate houses. Having separate lives. That was a much harder pill to swallow than I thought it would be. In fact, I’m still trying to processes it. Why, you may ask? I don't think there's one single answer. Maybe it was the twelve years together? Ten of those married. Maybe it’s because I honest to God never pictured this outcome coming to fruition? I really thought we would overcome all of this. Maybe it’s because of all we’ve gone through together? The good and the bad. Or maybe it’s because no matter what he will always be the punk rock loving, emo drummer boy with the beautiful eyes and playful smirk that I fell in love with all of those years ago? The guy who swept me off of my feet, and led me away to California. Who showed me that there was something else beyond my tiny little town. Adventures, friendships, and love so intense that it hurt to be apart. And having to let him go was not something I was prepared for. I still don't feel ready. But are we ever? 

Divorce - Part One

As some of you may know, in October of last year, I filed for a divorce. It was by far one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. When the petition was filed there was a section that stated that neither I nor my husband could talk about each other on any kind of public platform while everything was pending. We both signed off on it and went about our lives. Then, that following November, he was arrested. I believe that’s the last I talked about him on here. And what I originally thought was going to be a pretty quick divorce turned into over a year of waiting. Which I was told was due to us being amicable. Since there was no fighting, no restraining orders, or disagreements on child custody our divorce wasn’t seen as needing to be rushed. And well, a lot has happened since last October that I wasn’t allowed to talk about until now. 

My husband was released from jail right before New Years. He came home clean and sober. He was thinking clearer and told me that he didn’t blame me for filing for a divorce. However, he asked for the opportunity to show us that he wanted to be with us. As a family. The second week of January he got a job with a contractor and things were going really well. We were actually getting along, and the fighting had stopped. With his income, we were finally starting to put money aside, and our bills were getting paid on time. Before their due dates even. We had a conversation about following through with the divorce, but that it was just a piece of paper. If we were really committed to giving things another shot a piece of paper was not going to interfere with that decision. I was really hopeful for what this next year was going to bring, and I couldn’t wait for this next chapter.

On our daughter’s birthday, we celebrated at a trampoline/gymnastics gym. As the majority of the guests arrived several of the adults decided to try out one of the bigger trampolines. As I went around greeting everyone I heard someone say, “Oh my God!”. Several of the kids scrambled off of the big trampoline, and one of my husband’s aunt’s said “It’s his foot. He broke his foot.” After an emergency visit, and a week in a cast he was prepped for surgery. The damage was so severe that he would have to have a plate and several screws put into his foot. Of course, it was an accident, and I did not blame him for it. It could have easily been one of the kids or another adult. However, with the cost of the emergency room, the surgery, and the doctor’s visits our small savings was depleted rather quickly. Not to mention recovery could take up to eight months. It was back to a single income, and budgeting every little penny. And that's when things got difficult again. 

It was during those next eight months that things started to gradually slide backward. First, it was locking his phone. Then it was messages in the middle of the night. Old friends started to show back up. Which was followed by my daughter asking me if her father had a girlfriend. We spoke about it, and everything was denied. Things settled down. We had some nights out as a family. He was at home with our daughter and they were bonding. We all spent a lot of time together. But that peace only lasted briefly. By July there were hundreds of text messages to a particular number that I recognized. There were several messages on Facebook. Yes, I invaded his privacy by logging into his account. And then there were pictures. I remember that I got angry, and I felt humiliated. But as I sat there one particular morning, his phone in my hand as he slept, all I could feel was defeat. So, I let it go. I was depressed, and my anxiety was becoming more prominent in my day-to-day. Paired with low self-esteem, and this need to keep everything together. Us together. I let it go. I sat the phone back down and went about my day.

In August, when I asked about a particular text message that I saw pop up on his screen I was told, “What does it matter? You’re not my wife anymore.” Then the following week we vacationed in New Mexico with my family, together. We came back and things felt different for a little while. I was starting to feel that mental fog by this point though. I was struggling to keep things afloat financially, and I started to distance myself from him. From everyone really. I found drug paraphernalia in the car. Then one morning in my home. I smashed it all to pieces and left a note. I blamed myself for his actions though. I wasn’t a good wife. I wasn’t understanding enough. I didn’t do my part to make him happy. I didn’t give my all to him. I nagged too much. I was too distant with him. I was too controlling. I believed that I deserved everything that was happening because I wasn’t good enough. 

September equaled more of the same problems. It also brought with it an argument where things got a bit physical. Before you start feeling bad for me just know there was a time when I'd get physical too. Though never in front of our daughter, AND it's been years. Doesn't excuse ANYTHING though. I got help for my anger. But on that morning I remember looking out of the corner of my eye as profanities were being spat in my face, hands on me, and seeing my daughter quietly tiptoe backward out of the room. This look of sadness and fear on her face. And something inside of me cracked that morning. I kept telling myself that this was all wrong. This was not what I wanted my daughter to think of as being normal. But instead of standing up I became docile. I dismissed his behavior just like that. I let the words bounce off of me anytime they were thrown in my direction. When things were said, or an argument began I just put a smile on for my daughter and we’d leave the house. “I’m not putting up with this.” I’d say as I’d walk out the door. But clearly, I was. By this time everything was starting to become too much for me emotionally. All of my coping techniques were no longer working. My depression had me not wanting to move most days. I’d force myself, and walk through the motions. I had responsibilities after all. But I honestly felt like a shell. And then in October, my husband was finally told he could go back to work. He was able to go back with the same contractor as before, and at the beginning of November, he was placed on probation as part of a plea deal. In my mind, this meant that things had to get better. For him. For us. My hope was that he’d get back to that clear-headed state he was in when he first got out of jail. That was the man I needed in my life. That was the man I wanted.

At this same time, I decided to make an appointment with my doctor. On top of all the turmoil at home, I was having minor health issues. I wanted to feel better, and the only way for that process to start was to get everything checked out. So, I did. And as I stated in a previous post I felt better within a week. By Thanksgiving break, I felt like my brain was working the way it had before. I was standing my ground. I felt clear headed. I was putting more energy into the people and things I felt were important to me. Things were starting to click, and it’s as if a veil was being lifted off of my eyes. Sometimes, it would feel as if I was sitting back watching something unfold and thinking, “Wow...has this really been going on this whole time? Is this what it’s been like?” My eyes felt wide open for the first time in what felt like years. Then shortly after Thanksgiving, there was another argument. Only this time it was different because I was different. And as soon as the words, “You dumb bitch,” tumbled out of his mouth as he tried to prove a point I knew that I was done. I was done being the verbal punching bag. I was done being told that I was the reason for his misery. I was done being told that his actions were all my fault. That if I just did what he wanted everything would be okay. I was done being an afterthought. I was done being lied to. I was done being disrespected. That night, as I walked into Walmart to request some moving boxes, I felt this sense of freedom. Not necessarily because of my decision, but because it felt like I was finally taking back control. Of me. Of my life. Of my future.

Consequences - Part Two

Written on 12/1/17

On November 17th, I stayed a little late after work like I always do. A whole group of us usually go up the road to have a beer, and talk about the week we had. While I was driving home I noticed that I had a missed call from my husband at about 5:30 pm which I hadn’t heard because my phone was on silent. By the time I picked up my daughter, and pulled into our drive way it was already 6 pm. So, I tried returning his call before we even set foot inside the house, but it went straight to voicemail. As I walked up the side of our house I realized his car was not where he usually parks it so I assumed the earlier call had been to let me know he was going out. I left it at that because I knew that he’d find a way to call me if he needed something, or if what he needed to tell me was urgent.

After getting our little to bed, and putting up the laundry I decided to open up a bottle of wine, and have a glass. It had been a gift from the company earlier that afternoon so I figured I’d pop in a movie, and have a taste. While pouring my glass I noticed that it was already after 8 pm, and I still had not heard back from my husband. I got this weird feeling in my stomach, and I remember whispering “Please just let him get home safely.” Of course, this scenario and this kind of worry is not uncommon for me. If y’all only knew. So, I began the normal routine of trying to find out where he was. I tried calling his phone again, but it was still off. So, I sent a quick message to a friend asking if they had heard from him recently, and they said that they hadn’t. And this is when my anxiety started to kick in. Overthinking, and worst-case scenarios began to play in my mind. I tried my best to push all of the irrational thoughts out of my head because that does no one any good. And just to answer the obvious unspoken question: Yes, even with everything going on I still worry about him. I always want to make sure that he’s okay. That he’s safe. And that he’s not in some ditch somewhere, or worse. So I kept watching the door, and turned the volume on the TV down low, half expecting to hear that damn stereo system thumping a block away. I was so ready to give him an earful about how much worry, and anxiety he had caused me. To say “Next time call me from your friend’s phone so I know you’re OKAY!” But none of that happened.

After the longest forty-five minutes of my life I received a call from the sheriff’s office informing me that my husband had been arrested. They allowed me to talk to him, and he told me to speak with the bail bondsmen in the morning. After the relief washed over me - he wasn’t dead - I became really angry. “What the hell happened? What did you get arrested for? Was anyone with you? Why the hell couldn’t you wait until I got home before heading off?!” There was a string of “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything. Just call the bondsmen tomorrow….” and then the line went silent. I was redirected to an officer who informed me that they couldn’t tell me much, but they did give me some numbers to call the following morning. And it has been a very uneasy, and uncertain time ever since. From finding out the charges, to finding out how much it would cost to get him out, and then finally talking with a lawyer about what to do. There are times when I’ve cried, and felt pretty damn helpless. I’ve felt guilt over not coming home right away that evening. I've been angry over what he did to get himself arrested. But the hardest part was having to tell our daughter that her dad wasn’t going to be home for a while. I almost broke down as she clung to me, and offered to give me her piggy bank money if it would help get her daddy out. Though I know that this is not my fault, and I know that this was bound to happen at some point due to the choices he was making. It still sucks. I still feel some responsibility, and I hate seeing him in there.

Now this is a small town. So small in fact, that someone runs an “In the Jail House Now” page which takes the previous days arrests, and then posts their mugshots all over Facebook. The Saturday after his arrest my phone was going off continuously. People were asking if I was okay? If our daughter was safe? Had she been taken away? Was I in trouble? They asked if I had seen the posts on all of the local groups. And when I finally got the nerve to look it up, at the reactions, I saw something that I didn’t like. Posted by a certain someone who had no business talking. And the anger just kicked in all over again. At him for doing something so stupid, and reckless. At her for even thinking that she had a right to laugh after all she had done. At myself for even giving a fuck about what was published online. And the truth is, that I don’t care what people think about me. Or what they say about me; about my relationship. I don’t care because they will never know the truth behind our closed doors. They don’t know the struggles, and demons my husband has fought over the years. Some that he’s won, and some that have sadly taken over. But what I do care about, fiercely, is our daughter. When it came time to explain to her what was going on I left a lot of details out. I only let her know that her father made a few mistakes that he was having to take responsibility for by staying in jail for a little while. But that doesn’t mean that she won’t hear other things from someone else. So yes, I care. I care about how she’ll get treated for this at school. About how little ears hear nasty things from adults, and then they get repeated on the playground to my daughter. It’s happened before on several occasions. I care about how much she misses her dad, and how she feels about this whole situation. And I think the fact that this is all even happening, that she has to experience this at all, is what both angers and saddens me the most.

For now, all I can do is try my best to stay positive and adjust to what’s going on around me. Because the truth is that my husband will miss Christmas, and more than likely our daughter’s birthday next year. The truth is that he is the only person responsible for what’s happening to him. And even though all of this really sucks it was probably the best thing for him in the long run. And even though my husband will become my ex-husband in a little over a month there are very few people who are in his corner at the moment. Even fewer who are able to help come up with the funds to hire a lawyer, and get him out in a few months. But I intended to be one of them. I intended to do what I can. To be there for him in whatever capacity that I can.

Consequences - Part One

Written on 11/10/17

How to start this off. Well, first let me just warn you that this will probably be a long post. I will ramble along in order to try, and find the words for what has been going on lately. Some might find the news a bit confusing, expected, untraditional, or just plain weird. However, I figured it was probably time that I share…

On October 23rd, after two months of talking with my husband & witnessing several things, I retained a lawyer. On the 27th a divorce petition was filed. I could tell you that this was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make, but that would be an understatement. In some ways, this was worse than the last time. Much worse. I cried at the lawyer’s office. I cried in the bathroom at work. I cried at the grocery store. I cried as I ran on the treadmill in the middle of my gym. And I’ve cried myself to sleep on countless nights since. For the most part I’ve felt this numbness. It’s mixed in with a broken heart, and feelings of defeat; dejectedness. I’m pretty sure this is causing my depression to get worse too. So, the past month has been hard; sad, lonely. Unfortunately, this is happening because it was the only option I had left. I had exhausted everything else. I had drawn, and redrawn lines. There was compromises, and forgiveness. And yet there was still a lot of other stuff simmering beneath the surface. So, in the end, I knew that this was the right thing to do.

At first my husband was angry. I’m assuming that this was because I had actually gone through with it. We'd talked about it a lot in the months prior to me retaining a lawyer. Though, I think we both thought it was just that... "talks". Never had I ever imagined being the one to pull the trigger on this decision. And yet, here we are. Once he accepted that we were moving in this direction there were apologies and voiced regrets. From both of us. And if my heart hadn’t already been broken it would have cracked—shattered at his words. However, it all comes down to choices. Consequences. Drug addiction has played a part in this. Infidelity has played a part in this. All of the recurrences I was warned about. All of the habits I was told would come back... did. But I chose to ignore them. Until I couldn’t anymore. My own stubbornness played a part in this. My own fear of failure played a part in this. My want of love from him was causing my own heartbreak. Because I wanted it so damn badly that I chose to look away from what was happening. Until I couldn’t anymore.

But if you want honesty, I’d say that I still love my husband. So damn much. He is the person I think of when I want to tell someone about my day. When I need to laugh, cry, or just be heard. When I want to be held in silence, he's the person I look for. When I have this urge to just lay down in bed as the sound of rain comes through the window I want him to be the person laying next to me. Or when our daughter does something funny I instantly want to share it with him. Our lives have been intertwined since I was 15. My first adventures away from home, life—the good & bad-- that I have led, and my daughter are all with him. Because of him. Knowing right now, in this very moment, that in a few months we are no longer going to be married is causing me to have knots in my stomach. I feel empty...hurt. And honestly, if it were just the two of us, I wouldn’t be sitting here telling you this news. God, if it were just the two of us, I would look the other way as long as he came home to me every night. Not sure what that says about me in the end. But I would have overlooked it all. I would grin, and bear it as long as he kept loving me. In whatever capacity he was capable of. But it’s not, and I can’t.

I wish things were different. I wish that I could erase the bad shit. I wish that we were strong enough to find a way around all of this. I wish we could go back to the days when love conquered all. When it was enough. But there comes a point in life, when in situations like mine, that you have to ask yourself if you’re okay. If you’re truly fine with what’s happening to your family? If the turbulent home life you’re offering is the best that you can do for your child? For yourself? For your spouse? Regardless of who’s causing the conflict. You have to ask yourself if the path you’re currently on is a healthy one? Are you really able to look at yourself in the mirror, and be okay with what you’re allowing? If the answers are “YES” then keep going. Keep fighting for it. And if you can look your child in the eyes in that very same moment, and tell them with complete honesty that this is the best you can do for them then by all means keep going. But if it’s not? If you’re breaking your own heart, over and over again, then stop. If you know deep down inside of yourself that continuing will only make things worse, then make the choice to do better. However messy, and hard it may be...do what's right for yourself. For your family.

So, for the sake of our daughter we’ve decided to go through this amicably. Reluctantly, but peacefully. We’ve also talked to her about all of this. We’ve had discussions about what divorce will mean for us. How it will affect us as a family. And so far, she’s okay. As soon as I knew that we’d be taking this step I spoke with her teacher, and requested that she start seeing the school counselor once every other week or if they noticed a change in her behavior. This has, surprisingly, been the easiest part out of this whole situation because I feel that neither of us really wanted this outcome. But it is what we need. There is still love here. So that’s where we are at right now. It’s a bit awkward. Not everyone knows how to react when we tell them. Hell, half the time I’m still really confused by it all. But all I can do is try my hardest to get through it. For myself. For my daughter. And for whatever is yet to come. 

📷:Rupi Kaur poetry, click on picture for credit

A Few Things I Want To Address

Okay, so this month is going to be all kinds of mixed up. I normally have the "scheduled" posts for the month ready a few weeks in advance, and the book reviews are normally already written up within the same time frame. Here we are already into the second full week of the month and as of right now the "currently" post hasn't even met it's first outline. And I haven't even finished the book for July either. So, I'll leave both of those to be published towards the end of the month. Fingers crossed that I can get them done by then. I also have one more product review that I'd like to get posted, but I'm not forcing that one. If I have to wait until August, I will. I'm completely out of my comfort zone guys, and I feel like this month is just a lot more chaotic than I had hoped. I've tried to establish a schedule, and I have this weird thing about consistent patterns that I liked to stick to when posting. All of that went out the window for July though! Yup, I dropped the ball. That'll teach you to trust me when I say "I'm hoping to be more consistent, and bring more content" doesn't it? 

Last week when I wrote this particular post I was babysitting a Dos XX bottle as I typed it up. I was feeling this sense of "I don't give a fuck, bring it" to whatever had been bothering me that day. I was tired, agitated, and my anxiety was kicking my ass. So, I had myself a beer. And it helped with turning my thoughts of anger into this hazy ball of mush that I could address on another day. So, here we go. Another day. I finally decided that I wanted to go back to school, sooner rather than later. Since Tarleton screwed me over I can't resume classes there until what I "owe them" is repaid. I was able to get my government loans deferred until the end of the year so I'm saving money right now to be put towards that large ass sum. In the meantime I'm going to try and attend the previous college I received my Associates from. I want to take a few catch up classes, and take as many courses as I'm allowed before having to transfer over to the university again. I plan on stopping by their office, and speaking to an adviser before the end of July to get that in order. 

Next up, marriage. Mine is a huge mess about 30% of the time these days. And I won't lie to any of you: the majority of it has to do with addiction, mental health issues, & a big ass dose of denial. We've been down this road before y'all, and I was told that it would be something we'd have to battle or deal with for the rest of our lives. Some years will be better than others, but I have to either be in it for the long haul or remove myself in order to not make things worse. Now, I know some people don't believe these are valid excuses, and they think that we should all just "man up". But just know that I'm doing my best to figure out what we need to do as a family right now. It's not easy to go through this, and to have these issues within a relationship. Even worse when it's a relationship that's created a family. I know there's a lot of bad that's happened, and people have definitely questioned my sanity. Some of the stuff that was said, that I was put through, or that I found out about are still very much on my mind. But like I've stated before I feel like I'm doing my best to be supportive, and helpful. My family always comes first, and that includes my marriage. Regardless of the state that it's in. However, in order to not bring on so much confusion and to focus more on our families recovery, I'm going to limit how much/how often I post in regards to my marriage. I don't want to sound like a broken record, and I just feel like this is something we need to take on privately from here on out. Of course I'll update from time to time, but it won't be in the same way I had before. 

And finally, I've been doing some soul searching in regards to what/who I want to be when I grow up. I've started to write down some goals, and really stepped back to see what's been causing me a lot of anxiety/stress at work. I've noticed that there's some unhappiness in other areas of my life that left me feeling very unfulfilled, and drained by the end of my workday. I've known for awhile that I wanted to graduate with a specific degree and I'm still aiming for it, but what then? What happens when/if I achieve that goal? Do I want to stay where I'm at or do I want to explore other options? Are there even any other options for me? I know people talk about the things that they want to do, and what makes them happy in their careers but I've never really truly taken a closer look into mine. I live paycheck to paycheck, and it's never been about anything else for me. I do my time at an 8-5 job because I must. So, what happens if I were to be offered something else? What would I do if I were able to have enough stability to decided what I wanted to do in the future? Would it be the same, or would things change? I'll tell you guys all about it in my next post so stay tuned.