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.
