My soon to be ex-husband texted me last night asking me when we got married. He forgot, and he needed the info for our mediator.
I felt punched in the heart.
I texted him back the date.
Was that cruel?
Am I crazy?
Am I overreacting?
I feel palpably upset.
I told a friend. She mirrored my upset.
Next day, I saw my therapist.
She mirrored my pain, and this simple, compassionate act allowed me to feel it fully. I wept on her couch in the most authentic way imaginable.
I have a vision of being 14, sitting in the back seat against the far left window, behind the driver. My two brothers are sitting next to me. I can see my mom’s face in the passenger seat. I can’t hear what my step-father, who is driving, says; I can only hear my mom reply, “I would never want Arrowyn’s legs. I have worked my whole life for mine.”
Punched in the heart.
I look at my brothers for confirmation. Did they hear it too?
They did. They look confused as well.
I look out the window.
I try not to cry.
I never did cry about that.
Thirty years later, I cried all day about it. I spoke to me at that age, in that car, and told her, you know what, that was a shitty fucking thing to hear. Especially from your mother. And who knows what creepy thing your step-father said. But you know what as well, you are magnificent and beautiful, and there is absolutely NOTHING wrong with your legs. Do not spend the rest of your life worrying about the circumference of your thighs! Feel how fucked up this is. Let it out. And move on. With me. I have so much to show you.
The woman part of me sat with me today, as well, on my therapist’s couch while I sobbed for how unimportant I must be to him. How utterly disconnected he was and is from me, as his partner and wife. How alone, abandoned and forgotten I feel.
He couldn’t even remember the date.
He didn’t forget it for four years, but last night, he could not remember it.
What a jackass.
Highland Park and his wife asked me over for dinner. I said yes.
What the fuck was I thinking????
Feeling wanted is a powerful drug for me. It will make do all sorts of fucking crazy.
My intention is to receive love and validation from myself.
I know what will happen, I will go into survival mode at their house, while tracking everything around me, and suppressing it. Until my daughter and I leave, and everything about being around the three of them in their perfect little family home as a perfect little family unit while I leave, with my perfect little daughter, alone. To go to our home.
Which I love, so I am not complaining.
I can just imagine the pain. Another punch in the heart. But one I am walking into willingly.
I walked willingly into my marriage. No one put a gun to my head there.
What to do.
Go to bed.
I am so fucking tired these days.
My ex is getting all weird about money in mediation. So I tried to do the math.
Our daughter goes to school from 9:30-3:30 pm.
I have to find work from 10-3pm, only. And only on Monday through Thursday, because on Fridays she is off at 1:30 pm.
I have 20 hours a week to work.
The other 40 hours of the week I am taking care of our child.
I have 16 hour days.
With no break.
He’s a dick.
How am I supposed to support myself with this?
This is My Shitty First Draft.