Get Mad Then Get Over It

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes,

I am out of control and at times hard to handle.

But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”

~ Marilyn Monroe

I have a confession.  I have to come clean.  I can’t keep it a secret any longer.  So here it is.  Sometimes I don’t feel so very grateful and forgiving.  Sometimes I am just really pissed off.  And yes, sometimes “I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure.”  And I don’t want to be grateful or forgiving.  I want to be mad.  I want to be angry and rage against assholes and mean people and the establishment.  I want to stomp my feet, pound my fists against the bars of my self-made prison and raise some hell. 

Sometimes I want to tell my ex-husband to “go fuck himself.”  Other times I’d really like to tell my boss to “kiss my ass.”  At times I fantasize telling my dad “to shut the hell up” or asking my mom, “Why the hell are you such a bitch?”

 

Recently I found these really cool cards that instead of saying “Thank You” say “Fuck You.”  I’m pretty sure these cards could come in quite handy.  First, I could send a “Fuck You” card to my divorce attorneys whom I paid thousands of dollars for absolutely nothing.  While I’m at it, I’d send a little note to the idiot bureaucrat at the Child Support Enforcement Office who lost my paperwork that fondly says, “Fuck You, Asshole.” Lastly, I’d make a list of all the men who have ever pretended to care about me but fucked me over and send them all “Fuck You. With love, Donna” cards.

Colin Powell tells us to “Get mad.  Then get over it.”  Maybe I don’t want to get over it. Maybe I want to be just plain mad.

It is okay to be angry.  Anger is simply a feeling not a behavior.  So while I like to fantasize about sending “Fuck You” cards, I won’t.  As Melody Beattie says in The Language of Letting Go, “Feeling angry – and sometimes, the act of blaming – is a natural and necessary part of accepting loss and change – of grieving.  We can allow ourselves and others to become angry as we move from denial toward acceptance.”  Feeling our emotions is especially important to those of us who may have grown up in an environment where it wasn’t okay to express our emotions.  We were told we were “too sensitive” or “overreacting.”  So we squashed our emotions and lived in fear of feeling anything.  Emotions are a part of living, and to suppress them is not healthy.
 
Recently I met a man at a friend’s Thanksgiving dinner. Over the course of the evening we talked about visiting other countries, our careers, and our sons who are both a little different.  I could see behind his somewhat nerdy glasses and geeky exterior that he could actually be quite sexy.  More importantly, I found him to be genuine.  So I asked him to my office Christmas party, and he said, “Yes.” 

Over the course of the next three weeks, we traded texts and talked on the phone.  I invited him to dinner and sliced vegetables and prepared chili while we talked about our lives.  We shared our pasts, our dreams, and our fears. We became fairly close in a relatively short period of time.  He even read my blog and didn’t run away.  Our relationship was sweet and innocent.  We never even kissed.  He was the wisest, kindest, most gentle man I had ever met.  And he liked ME.  Not the blond hair, blue-eyed, petite me.  But the domestic violence survivor, twice-divorced, and still rough around the edges me.  At least, so I thought.  I am not even quite sure what happened, but he eventually did become scared and no longer wanted to pursue a relationship with me.  He ran away.

I was hurt, angry, pissed off, and terribly disappointed.  I wanted to stomp my feet and pound my fists.  I wanted to scream “Why?!  I don’t understand!”    On the day he told me he didn’t want a relationship, I came home to find a package on my porch containing the stupid dress I had ordered to go to the party.  I unpacked my suitcase and found the stupid scarf I bought at the airport shop to wear as a wrap around my shoulders.  I cried.  And then cried some more.

I hadn’t been looking for anyone.  I was practicing the lesson of letting go - “Let go, and let God.”  I had resigned myself that when the timing was right, the Universe would put the right person in front of me. So I thought this kind man was that person.  What hurt most was thinking that if this kind and gentle man could not find it in his heart to care for me, who would?    

Melody Beattie continues, “We won’t stay angry forever.  But we may need to get mad for a while as we search over what could have been, to finally accept what is.”

I know I won’t stay angry forever.  But I’m allowing myself to be mad for a while longer as I come to terms with what I thought the relationship could have been and accept how it really is.  I have a right to get mad.  If a man does not have the courage to accept me with all my scars and broken pieces, to hell with him.  I should get pissed off and stomp my feet and yell at the top of my lungs.  Because “if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”  I love, I laugh, and I cry.  And if you allow me to care for you yet don’t have the guts to follow through, you deserve my anger and rage.  And maybe I’ll consider sending you a “Fuck You” card in the mail along with the others. 

I am reminded of the poem by Veronica A. Shoffstall,

After a While

“After a while you learn

the subtle difference between

holding a hand and chaining a soul

and you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning

and company doesn’t always mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts

and presents aren’t promises

and you begin to accept your defeats

with your head up and your eyes ahead

with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child

and you learn to build all your roads on today

because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans

and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn that even sunshine burns

if you get too much

so you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul

instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure

you really are strong

you really do have worth

and you learn

and you learn

with every goodbye, you learn…”

 
I realize now that after almost two years of therapy and a multitude of self-help books, my heart is still too vulnerable to begin a relationship with a man no matter how kind and gentle he is.  And while it may be tempting to have someone hold me and tell me everything will be okay, the task of healing my heart and becoming strong again must be accomplished alone.  Happiness is an inside job, and healing is a solitary journey.  So I’ll “get mad then get over it” and focus on me.  I will plant my own garden and decorate my own soul.  I’ll cultivate big, bright red gerbera daisies; soft, gentle lambs’ ear; and fragrant, calming lavender.  I’ll plant aromatic Asiatic lilies, heirloom foxgloves, and whimsical hollyhocks. 

After all that has happened in my past, I could evolve into a selfish, heartless bitch.  I could harden my heart to caring about anyone ever again.  At times I think I probably should.  It would be easier.  But that’s not who I am.  For some reason, I still believe in the goodness of people.  Even men.  I still believe in love.  I still have hope that somewhere, someday I will meet a man that truly cares for me.  If not, at least I will have me – the blue-eyed, blond hair, broken but put back together with super glue and duct tape, authentic me.

 

Face Your Fears

“You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”
~ Eleanor Roosevelt

 

I began seeing my therapist shortly after my separation to help me process my emotions associated with being assaulted by husband.  I felt ashamed, bewildered, guilty, and confused.  I questioned whether I should stay with my husband or whether I should leave.  I stood on the edge of a dark, wide chasm wondering if I should jump, and I was terribly frightened of what lay on the other side.
My fear surprised me.  I considered myself fairly independent. I had lived alone for six years before getting married.  I had bought and sold two houses by the time I was 28.  I mowed my own lawn, shuffled snow, and often traveled alone on business.  But to untether myself from my marriage and drift alone as a single mom was scary. 

My therapist suggested I look within myself and write down my fears of staying with my husband and my fears of leaving my husband.  I went home and wrote down my fears in my red spiral notebook I use for journaling.

The following week I reviewed my fears with her. Both lists seemed equally daunting. “Being alone” seemed as scary as “being miserable."  Here is the list for staying with my husband straight from my journal:

1)     Being miserable for the next 10 years

2)    Being unhappy

3)    Not having the best environment for E

4)    E being unhappy

5)    Continuously arguing

6)    The possibility of being physically hurt again

7)    Wasting precious time

Now here is the list of fears for leaving my husband:

1)   Being alone

2)   Losing my best friend

3)   Money being tight.  Not having enough money.

4)   E not having a dad

5)   Emotional impact on E

6)   The stress of divorce

7)   Losing money [to lawyers]

8)   Throwing [my  marriage] away

9)   Losing our friends

10)  Failure again

One thing about time.  Time gives us the gift of perspective, insight, and experience.  Reading these two lists eighteen months into my journey is enlightening and somewhat amusing.  My journey has given me the perspective to observe these two lists objectively.

Let’s take a closer look at both lists of fears and determine what is real and what may not be so real.

Fears of staying with my husband:

1)     Being miserable for the next 10 years.  Real.  My ex and I had been through marriage counseling twice. Nothing changed.  Unless some spectacular miracle occurred, or if he didn’t kill me first, we would continue to be miserable for the foreseeable future.

2)    Being unhappy.  Same as above.  Real. I was unhappy being in a relationship with a man who did not respect me or care for me.  I could handle that he did not love me.  I just wanted him to let me go.  He would not.  I was trapped.

3)    Not having the best environment for E.  Real.  Arguing constantly is not a healthy environment for our son. For 18 years, my parents argued, yelled, screamed, and slammed doors in front of my brother and I.   While the experience made me self-reliant, it also laid the foundation on which my low self-esteem was built and likely a factor in my own failed relationships.

4)    E being unhappy.  Similar to above.  I may never know the impact of witnessing the arguing and the abuse has had on my son.  He has never spoken of that night or of our arguing. But I can without a doubt interpolate what the impact staying with my husband would be.  Studies show that boys who witness domestic violence are more likely to be abusers themselves.  I am so grateful to have broken the cycle.

5)    Continuously arguing.  A very real possibility.  Without extensive marriage counseling we would have continued to argue increasing the possibility of further abuse.

6)    The possibility of being physically abused again.  Another very real possibility.  Abuse escalates.  A push turns into a violent shove, which turns into a punch and a kick.

7)    Wasting precious time.  I believe this fear is an echo of the first one, Fear of “being miserable for the next 10 years.”  Staying in a miserable marriage or relationship is not worth your life.  Emotional and physical abusers are parasites sucking the life and soul from you.  And life is too short to waste it on a parasite.  Use your energy on you and on those who treat you with love and respect.

Now let’s look at the fears I listed for leaving my husband:

1)     Being alone.  I suppose after being married even only 5 years, the thought of being alone can seem intimidating.  However, after eighteen months of actually being alone, I am not frightened at all.  Being alone is actually quite nice.  Being alone is peaceful and above all empowering.  I believe that many women including myself have allowed society dictate what is acceptable and what we need to be fulfilled or successful.  But guess what?  We do not need a man at all to be fulfilled.  Let me repeat. Women do NOT need a man to be fulfilled.  Yes, being in a relationship and having a caring companion is nice.  But we are not “less than” because we do not have a man by our side.  We are ourselves and possess the freedom to fulfill our life and to succeed as we wish.  I wish it had not taken me so long to figure this out.

2)    Losing my best friend.  Yes.  This fear was and still is real.  There was a part of my husband I considered separate from the selfish, narcissistic part of him.  And that part of him was intelligent and friendly.  One of my fondest memories is of us making dinner together.  He chopped vegetables while I sautéed them, adding random spices and throwing everything together over noodles or rice.  We’d sit down to eat and discuss our work and often politics, religion or family.  We had a connection on some level.  Today looking back I do question the validity of that relationship while simultaneously mourning the end.  It may not make much sense, but losing what I thought was my best friend has been hard, but not insurmountable.  We move on.

3)    Money being tight.  Real.  Financial worries are going to occur in any separation or divorce.  A household of two incomes is split half with, unfortunately, two mortgages or rent, two electricity bills, two water bills, etc.  I am extremely grateful to be blessed with a decent paying job.  Yet, I was still worried how my financial situation would change.  And yes, money is tight.  But I will tell you that it is so friggin worth it.  I am grateful to be able to pay my mortgage and my utility bills and have my son by my side.  I do not need forty pairs of shoes or the latest Coach purse.  I only need my son, his health and his safety.

4)    E not having a dad.  Not Real.  As my therapist was quick to point out, my son still has his dad.  It’s up to his dad to have a relationship with his son.  I have no control over their relationship, and I cannot force it.

5)    Emotional impact on E. Not Real.  Eighteen months later my son is just fine.  Staying in an abusive relationship or even just a bad relationship would have a negative emotional impact on my son.  As it stands now, he is in a loving, peaceful, and positive environment.

6)    The stress of divorce.  Real.  Well, divorce IS stressful.  The past eighteen months have not been fun.  But at the same time my life is much more calm and peaceful without the arguing and fighting.  I will take the stress of divorce over the stress of an abusive relationship any day.  And the stress of divorce is short-term.  I know I will move through it and beyond.  And there is freedom on the other side.

7)    Wasting money by giving it to lawyers.  Real.  Yep, I have given thousands of dollars to lawyers.  Has it been worth it?  I don’t know.  Could I have performed many of the tasks myself?  Possibly.  I had hoped my ex and I would work out the details of our separation and child support on our own, but he insisted on getting an attorney.  I was left with little choice but to use an attorney as well.  The point is attorneys are expensive. You are screwed no matter what.  Sure, I could have spent that money on a vacation, my son’s college fund, or a new car. But it’s done.  I cannot second guess myself. 

8)    Throwing my marriage away.  What does that mean anyway?  Yes, I made a commitment to my husband and my family as we exchanged wedding vows that August day on the beach.  I had every intention of honoring that commitment.  I loved my husband and wanted our son to know his dad, so I took a blind leap of faith and married him.  I don’t necessarily regret it.  My son knows his dad regardless of our living arrangements now.  It is my husband who threw our marriage away the night he slammed my head into the floor.

9)    Losing our friends.  Real. Yes, I lost some “friends.” But throughout our lives, friends will come and go.  Our true friends will stay no matter our circumstances or changes we go through.  I’m still friends with many of the women I was friends with during my marriage, and I continue to make new friends.  Whether going off to college, moving to a new town, getting married, or getting divorce, shifts and adjustments always occur in friendships. But these new phases of life also create opportunities to form new friendships as well as showing us who our real friends are.

10)  Failure again.  At 42, I am divorced (or will be soon) for the second time in my life.  Two divorces weren’t exactly the outcome I planned.  After my parents’ turbulent marriage and divorce, I was determined to do better.  My believe was if I graduated college with a good degree and snagged a stable job, I would not have any financial worries, and therefore, everything else in life would simply fall into place.  Right?  Wrong! I soon found out, a stable career and enough money do not equate to a perfect relationship.  I still required healing from my lonely and unstable childhood.  So, in some way, I am grateful for my two failed marriages.  I would never have the opportunity to heal had I not traveled this journey.

The fear of leaving my husband was the result of not knowing the future.  How was I going to make it?  Where do I begin?  Do I get a lawyer?  Where will I live?  How will it affect my son?  I was overwhelmed with all the questions running around in my head.  But as I took each step forward, my questions were answered dispelling each of my fears.  The key is to take that first step forward.

The fears we face in life are often the fear of the unknown.  Fear of the future. Fear of change.  Fear of making a long, difficult journey. Fear of failure.  Fear of pain.  We fear making that phone call, because we fear rejection.  We fear going back to college, because we are scared of failing.  We fear applying for our dream job, because we fear being let-down.  We fear leaving an unhealthy relationship, because we fear change and starting over.

We will encounter many fears and obstacles along our journey.  Our fears will seem intimidating and insurmountable at first.  However, when we arm ourselves with knowledge and take one step at a time, these fears will fade away.  Similar to the monsters we thought were under our bed, our grown-up fears turn out to be illusions as well.   Just remember it’s normal to feel fear when we are pushing the envelope, making a significant life change, and chartering new territory.  That fear is your heart’s intuition whispering in your ear, “It’s going to be worth it.”

Listening to My Heart: How Much Involvement Should an Abuser Have in Their Child’s Life?

“Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart.”

~Carl Jung

I’ve struggled for months to write this part of my story.  I finally realized I didn’t need to know all the answers to write this post.  I only needed to write it.

So this is how the story goes.

I married my abuser for my son.  I didn’t know he was an abuser at the time.  I hardly knew him at all.  We had worked together for a year.  We had dined together at restaurants, toured the streets of Prague, hiked around Czech Raj and danced at the nightclubs in Hradec Kralove.  But as with most relationships, I could not predict how cohabitating and raising a child together would be.  I only wanted a father for my son. 

And now I struggle every day with determining the level of involvement that father should have in my son’s life. 

How much involvement should an abuser have in their child’s life?  There is no easy answer, and there certainly is not just one answer. 

One of my fears when separating from my husband was how it would affect my son.   But at first, the thought of my ex having any contact with my son scared the hell out of me.  After my ex began his Anger Management program, I allowed my ex to visit with my son in public while I was present.  I was hesitant, but I needed to see with my own eyes the interaction between my son and his dad.  During the next visit my ex had my son alone for the day, but brought him home at night.  As my trust slowly strengthened, my son spent the weekend with his dad and stayed at our neighbors’ house.  

Let me be clear.  This was not easy.  But as per our agreement, my ex was allowed to visit my son every other weekend.  With each visit I was confronted with tightness in my chest and queasiness in my stomach.  Each visit I was a bundle of nerves thinking of the myriad of possible outcomes.  I realize that much of the anxiety and worry was manufactured in my head.  But please know that as I stood on that Florida beach on my wedding day in front of our families seven years ago, the thought of being assaulted by my soon-to-be-husband never ran through my mind.  Once a previously unimaginable assault is perpetrated by your best friend and lover, your reality is irreversibly and significantly altered.  What could I possibly believe was true?  What was real and what was imagined?  I had no idea anymore.  And I still don’t.

The first time my son was to spend the weekend with his dad alone, I agreed to allow his dad to pick him up from school.  I dutifully left the booster seat and a bag of clothes in my son’s classroom.  My ex was to fly in and head straight to my son’s school from the airport.  This whole prospect scared me. I had no idea what evil plan may lay in my ex’s mind.  I tried to have faith that everything would be okay.  But as Ronald Reagan was fond of saying, “Trust, but verify.” 

I called my ex shortly after he was to pick up my son from school.  No answer.  I waited 10 minutes and tried again.  No answer.  I tried to reassure myself that maybe his cellphone had died.  Maybe he left his phone on the plane.  Maybe my ex was just being an asshole and purposely not answering.  But because I could no longer trust reality, I imagined the possibility that my ex had kidnapped my son and at that very minute was headed to the airport for a flight to England.  Or heaven forbid, worse.  These negative thoughts made me nauseous. Because how could I without a doubt know what was realistic anymore?  And how could I live if something happened to my son?

I realize there are those who would say, “Now, Donna, that’s just crazy talk.  You worry too much.”  Yes, maybe.  But maybe not.  How am I supposed to know anymore?  My world has been turned upside down.

After a torturous 40 minutes, my ex finally answered the phone.  The two of them had gone through the school’s book fair, and my ex had supposedly left his phone in the car.    

As time passed, his dad’s visits became less frequent.  A month would go by.  Two months.  Three months.   Each time I was initiating his visits.  “Hey, your son asked about you.”  “Hey, your son’s piano recital is soon, and he asked if you were going to be there.” And “his birthday party is coming up.  Do plan on being there?” 

The most heart wrenching occasion I called his dad about visiting was last summer. 

My son became obsessed with building a “gerbil house.”  At the time my son was fascinated with “inventions” and drawing building plans.  He had drawn up “plans” for the design of a five story gerbil house complete with bathtub, lights, and a motor-driven treadmill.  We spent an afternoon in the garage rummaging through the toolbox and reviewing tools we might need to build the gerbil house.  He then insisted we take a trip to the local Home Depot to research possible materials we would need to build this gerbil house.  We examined wiring, tile, plumbing, carpeting, roof tile, and plywood.  We spoke with the man in the lumber department about the best way to install the floors and how thick the plywood should be.

I knew what was coming next.  Eventually, he would want to actually build this crazy, five-story gerbil house.   And as independent and mechanically inclined as I like to think I am, I was not relishing the idea of using a saw or other power tools I might need for this project.  Hammer, yes.  Electric drill, yes.  Electric circular saw, no.  Besides, I didn’t even own any electric saws much less felt comfortable using one.

I thought this would be an excellent father and son project.  So, I called his dad.

I’m not sure why I bothered.  Sadly, his dad wasn’t interested.  His dad said, “No.”  I could not believe it.  I knew his dad was a jerk, but to pass up an opportunity building a woodworking project with his seven year old son was inconceivable.  But he did.

His disinterest bothered me more than I thought.  I was astonished.  I was disheartened.  What kind of dad doesn’t want to hang out with his son in the garage hammering and sawing all day?  It blew my mind.  Then it broke my heart.  Much to my surprise and disgust, I cried. 

I cried for the little boy who was the most precious thing in my life.  I cried for the sweet, innocent boy who didn’t have a mean bone in his body and did not deserve any of this.  I cried for the boy with a beautiful soul and big heart that deserved a hell of a better dad than the one he was stuck with.  And maybe I cried a little for myself that day because I had let my son down by marrying his stupid, selfish dad.

But life goes on.  So I dried my tears and reviewed my options.  Ask a male co-worker to help my son build his dream gerbil house?  Too awkward.  Build it myself?  Definitely not safe.  Ask my brother who lived four and half hours away?  Nah, he had a six month old son at home.  Ask my dad?  My dad was 70, retired, and has some health issues, but he had power tools and knows how to use them.  Hmmm, it just might work.  But would he be willing?  I wasn’t sure, so I gave my ol’ dad a call. 

Being retired and on his own, my dad was delighted to be needed and acted like a little boy before Christmas.  The next weekend he happily drove the four hours from his house to ours with the trunk of his car full of power tools and various electric saws.  He was more than happy to have a project to work on and to be of some use to his grandson.  My dad, my son and I spent the weekend measuring, sawing, and hammering my son’s gerbil house.  My son directed my dad and I on building the house, measured and marked the wood, and learned to hammer a nail.  By Sunday, we had built my son’s five story gerbil house to his specifications.  And the weekend was as much a bonding experience between my dad and I as it was for my son and his grandfather.

These days my son’s dad visits maybe once every two or three months which I think is just fine.  I am still a bit anxious during these visits, but I try to have faith and not worry.

Over the past year, I have learned much about acceptance.  Where I was once forcing the visits to happen, I now accept I cannot control my son’s relationship with his dad.  I cannot force his dad to visit.  I cannot force his dad to care.  I cannot force my son and his dad’s relationship to be perfect.  The best I can do is to observe my son and listen to my heart.  And while my son does not specifically talk about his dad or his feelings, he does not exhibit any signs that he is frightened to see his dad.  And he does not express any sadness or loneliness to live his life hanging out with just his old mom.  Instead he joyfully explains to me his “inventions” and “gerbil house plans.”  He excitedly informs me what Hermione, Ron and Harry are up to in his current Harry Potter book.   He looks to me when he asks, “How is lightening made, Mom?” and “Where do bald eagles live?”

So I will continue listening to my son and opening my heart allowing it to guide me.  

And as I open my heart in the quiet of the night after my son is in bed, this is what it reveals. “My son is healthy, happy, learning and thriving just fine without his dad.”  And that is all a parent can ask. <3

Living a Life in Limbo

You can get so confused
that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...
...for people just waiting.

~ Dr. Seuss

One afternoon a couple years ago, my son, who was five, was watching a DVD about the Spanish Amada or maybe Sir Francis Drake.  He proceeded to tell my mom all about the history of Queen Elizabeth I and the war between England and Spain, then went back to watching his DVD.  My mom amazed at his knowledge said “One day, E is going to be teacher.”  I responded, “I’m hoping he’ll be a lawyer or a professor.”  At this point E realized we were talking about him and decides to contribute in his five year old worldly wisdom, “I think I will just be myself.” 

With a clarity and simplicity about the world that only children possess, he decisively reminded us silly adults that his choice of profession is ultimately insignificant as long as he remains true to himself.  Adults insist on labeling, classifying, judging, deciding and affirming everything and everyone.  Adults must shove, push and squash everyone into a nice, clean, concise category when we really need to Let Go.

I was reminded of this recently while visiting the orthopedic doctor’s office for pain in my left hip.  I was asked to fill out the New Patient Forms as is the case when visiting a new doctor.  I sat down with the clipboard and pen and dutifully filled in my name, gender, date of birth, and address.  I came to “Marital Status.” I stopped.  My choices were “Single, Married, Divorced, Widowed.”  Hmmmmm.  Where’s the “Separated for Over a Year, but Ex is an Asshole and Will Not Sign the Settlement Papers” choice?  I was unable to find it.

I never gave this question much thought in my married days.  But now being neither married nor divorced, what should I answer?  How about Nothing?  Why do they care?  What the hell does my marital status have to do with treating my hip anyway?!  Will the doc give me different medication if I am widowed as opposed to divorced?  Will I have different physical therapy if I am single opposed to married?  Hell, I gave my emergency contact as my mom, can’t you figure it out?

And so I left it blank.

I am living my life in limbo in "The Waiting Place."  I am no longer married, but I cannot yet call myself divorced or single.

So what am I?  For the most part I live my day to day life as if I’m divorced.  I call my son’s dad, my “ex” rather than my “soon-to-be ex”.  “Soon-to-be-ex” is much too complicated to explain to my co-workers and acquaintances.  However, the law would say I am “legally separated.”  I would say I am none of the above.  

I am myself.

My not being divorced is not for lack of trying.  My ex and I physically separated 18 months ago and legally separated 14 months ago.  But I still don’t have those stupid signed separation settlement papers in my little fist.  I have no documentation on file with the court to dictate custody, child support, visitation, etc.  We do have an unsigned set of papers that we loosely adhere to.  However, according to the papers, my ex has visitation every other weekend.  He doesn’t visit.  My ex has my son every other holiday.  He doesn’t take him. 

What he does do is pay child support late every month.  He visits roughly every two months on some random schedule only known to him.  He continually threatens to stop child support.  He insists he shouldn’t be required pay the agreed amount regardless that it’s less than the state’s calculated child support amount.  And he threatens to move back to England every other week, so he doesn’t have to pay anything at all.

Basically, he tries to manipulate and control me.  I shouldn’t be surprised.  As a narcissistic abuser, he will continue believing he is above the law.  He will continue thinking he is superior to everyone else.  Could I survive without child support?  Yes, I could.  Would it be easy?  No.  But why should I let him walk away from his duty as a father?  My ex now makes double my salary.  Double.  So, will I continue taking his money?  Hell, yeah.  I’m going to make him pay for his son as is his duty as a father and as required by law.  I’ll keep taking his child support until he makes good on his threats and moves back to England.

In the meantime, I can deal with his manipulation and controlling behavior.  I have to admit it does bother me at times.  But I am in a much better place emotionally than I was a year ago or even six months ago.  I’ve learned to realize there are things out my control and things in my control.  I’ve learned not to overreact, to take deep breaths, and then calmly decide what to do.  His threats and his actions are out of my control.  But how I respond to his threats and manipulation IS something I CAN control.

I’ve learned to let his bluster go in one ear and out the other.  He has made his threats so long and often there is no weight behind them any longer.  When he starts yelling and threatening me I hold the phone away from my ear and then, at a pause, I try talking calmly.  If that doesn’t work, I calmly inform him I’m hanging up, I say goodbye, and press “End.”  I can tell you that listening to him rant and not responding in kind brings me so much satisfaction.  Not rising to the occasion means he is no longer in control.  I am.  And what an amazing accomplishment that is!

In addition, I am eliminating his ability to threaten non-payment by filing paperwork with the Child Support Enforcement office.  I’m really not sure why the hell I haven’t done this by now, but my attorneys didn’t think it was necessary originally and it would take too long if we could work out a verbal agreement.  But at this point, our house is sold, custody is definitely not an issue; so why wait for settlement papers to be filed?  The Child Support Enforcement papers will go in the mail on Monday, and then hopefully, there will be no more threats and no more manipulation because his child support payment will be out of HIS control.  Then maybe I can finally make my way through this land of limbo.

Even if our lives are in limbo, because we are waiting on some decision, a date, or a piece of paperwork; we are not helpless.  First, realize what is not in your control, and choose how you will respond.  Your response is in your control.  In most cases, the best choice is detachment and acceptance.  Second, determine what is in your control and take action. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my career that holds true in my journey of divorce is to be proactive.  Otherwise, you are still a victim to others’ whims and wants.  Don’t wait for something to happen.  Form a plan.  Do your research.  Set priorities.  Then execute your plan.  If it fails, so what?  You stood up and took action.  It’s better than sitting at home on your butt waiting for things to happen to you.  Make another plan and try again. As my mom always told me, “If at first you don’t succeed; try, try, try again.”  Eventually, you will get somewhere.  You will transverse the murky land of limbo. You will leave the Waiting Place behind.  And you will do it by taking action, being proactive, and by not being a victim.

You are a survivor.  And more importantly, you are yourself. :o)