It's been almost 8 months
I'm not sure why I'm posting this now. Eight months seems like such a random milestone. Why not 6? Why not wait until 12 months, a full year? But no, 8 months it is.
Nearly 8 months ago I left my husband of 5 years. I left 4.5 years later than I should have. Surprised? Those of you who thought you knew us as a couple probably are. We appeared to have it all. You saw what we wanted you to see. You saw us as you wanted to see us. You knew us as we wanted you to know us. And, yes, you knew us as you wanted to know us. The signs were there. Hindsight is always 20/20.
About this time a year ago I was living moment to moment, but not so as to soak in each moment. I lived moment to moment because it's the only way I could get through the day. I fell asleep at night only to be awakened by one or both of the girls crying in the morning. I would lay there, eyes shut, thinking "Please no, don't make me get out of bed and live this life". The crying would continue and soon I would get up. Who else was going to do it? Unfeeling and basically numb I would get Sarah and Emily dressed for school. I went through the motions. Get in the car, buckle, drive, arrive at school, put lunches in the refrigerator, kiss Sarah and Emmy good-bye, drive to work.
Work was a haven. At work I was spoken to with respect. At work I was listened to as if I had something to say worth hearing. Simple please and thank yous were a typical part of my day. A "hey, how are you" in passing in the hallway acknowledged that I did in fact exist. I threw myself into my work. Then, the day would end, and it would be time to get back in the car and drive "home".
A chaotic scene would greet me at the door. Two young children, maybe fed, maybe not, maybe bathed, maybe not would be in that scary "overly-tired" place. As I tried to restore some order and make sense of it all, inevitably I would be welcomed with all the ways I had failed as a mom, as a wife, and even as a person that day, the previous day, the previous week, and if I was lucky, how I would fail tomorrow too.
I couldn't win. I tried to stay one step ahead. I tried to be everything all the time.
One night, after everyone else had gone to bed, I reached a breaking point. I finally let myself think about the previous 5 years. Really think about them. I didn't think about them the way I wanted to think about them. I thought about them as they were. As they really were. My very real reality was that I was miserable. In five years of marriage, I couldn't remember a single moment that brought me joy. I couldn't remember a single "good time". It seemed like everything I could come up with was marred with some kind of dark moment, which overshadowed anything that might have been "good".
When did I become such a negative person? When did I start to feel so lost in my own life? Little bit by little bit one person had been able to wear me down without my even knowing it.
Perhaps it started the first time he called me a name at the start of an argument. Perhaps it started when he promised he would never swear at me again and did it anyway. Perhaps it was when he criticized me one too many times for hair that was too short or too straight. Perhaps it was when he left the table and all his dirty dishes behind and watched tv the rest of the evening while I cleaned up, night after night. I don't know when it started, but I remember when it ended.
On May 7, our fifth wedding anniversary, he gave me a card. It was a far cry from the trip I dreamed of five years earlier on our honeymoon that we would take for such a milestone anniversary. But, nonetheless, a card is a card and it was something. The card itself was one of those cartoon-ish cards that aren't even appropriate for anniversaries, but that wasn't the worst of it. He had written at the very bottom that "he would do this all over again." Without meaning to, I looked at him and said, "I wouldn't. I would not choose to do this all over again." He looked surprised. I continued, "I did not sign up to be criticized for even the most insignificant of decisions. I did not sign up to be sworn at in front of my children. I did not sign up to made to feel as though I was the last person who mattered in your life, the last person who mattered in anyone's life. I think I am done."
"Done? What do you mean by done?" I explained that I had tried for too long with too few results (read, NO results). I couldn't continue giving and giving only to be stomped on again and again. He suggested therapy. I agreed. Admittedly, it was to buy time. I hadn't planned on telling him I was leaving. I had no where to go. Therapy bought me time. I will never know if what he told our therapist is really how he perceived things to be in our marriage, but I can promise you, he did not tell the whole story. In five years of marriage he never once told me he was sorry. Not once. To this day, he still hasn't. "Sorry" would have gone a long way.
Then came the dreaded phone call to my parents. I prepared myself for the worst, expecting to be disowned. I knew this was news they would not be anticipating and I also knew that in 34 years of marriage their lives were not always sunshine and roses. How could I explain that I was not giving up. I was not taking the easy way out. They did not know the "him" as I knew him. At first my mother was supportive. Shocked, but immediately supportive. My father, not so much. He told me to go back to my husband and make things right. I told him no. He asked if he beat me. I said no. . .what I was thinking was "not yet". He walked away and with a backward glance told me that this decision would land my children in therapy someday. The words stung, but in my heart of hearts, I knew I had to leave and I was leaving as much for me as I was my children.
I want my children to make better choices than me. I want my children to grow to be strong, confident women. I want my children to know I fought for them. I fought for what was right. If I do not set the example, who will? Do as I say, not as I do? I don't think so. No one will treat me again, and no one is to ever treat them, the way I was treated. It's unacceptable.
So, I moved out. I found an apartment, signed the lease, and paid the security deposit. There was no going back. I drafted a less than perfect custody agreement, but one that ensured he would not show up at my door at all hours of the day and night creating a scene that my neighbors, me, and most importantly Sarah and Emily would have to witness. It worked. For the most part he stayed away and left me alone. I asked for half the value of the house. Nothing more. Nothing less. He told me since I left, I deserved nothing. I filed for divorce and asked for everything, including primary custody of my children.
I don't know when this will end. We are at an impasse where custody is concerned. He told me himself he doesn't care what custody he ends up with, but he will make sure I do not get the custody I want. He has rejected settlement after settlement pertaining to the divorce. I have nothing left to give. My attorney told me to fight for it all. Worst case scenario, he and I will be divorced by default on July 17, 2012 although the battle for the "stuff" we've accumulated, or at least the value of it, could go on long after that. It's a mess. This is not what I wanted, but then nothing was what I wanted from the outset.
I walk away knowing I did try. I fought for 4.5 years for the life I wanted for myself, for my children, and for my family. It was too much. I lost myself and everything I strived for in the process.
It's been 8 months now, my parents seem to have accepted this new reality of mine. It's not the life they wanted for me or their grandchildren, but I think they realize we're okay, better than okay, actually. I think they wonder how and why I made some of the choices that I did (believe me, I do too), but we're moving forward.
My brother hasn't said much one way or the other. This has always been funny to me. I'm glad there is one person who seemingly doesn't care. I'm glad we can talk and "his" name never ever comes up. It's like my brother is oblivious to the upheaval in our family thanks to me. It's good.
My friends never let me down. Three in particular were behind me 100% and never asked the tough questions. They just accepted that I got out of a situation that I deemed unhealthy for me and for my children. It was what I had to do and they were okay with that. They never asked "why".
The most amazing group of 100+ moms from across the country that I could ever hope to know were, and continue to be, my sounding board. They have cried with me, laughed with me, schemed with me, but most importantly they have supported me. They just accept me for who I am. They are, like I said, amazing.
My sister. If everyone had a sister like her, the world would be a much better place. From the words "I'm leaving" she's been there. She's the one who watches my children for court dates and custody stuff. She's the one who says, who cares why you did it. Move on. She's the one who feels about "him" the same way I do and it's simply because she's my sister. She's the one who will tell you the "old Dana" is back and it makes her happy. She thought she lost me, any maybe for a time, she did. I also need to thank her husband who is inconvenienced while she does all this for me, but who seems equally glad the family tree has one less branch.
As for me, I've gained some perspective and learned things only life experiences can teach. I am important to me again. I am a mother, a full-time student, and a writer. I am doing it and doing it better than I ever could have imagined. The girls are well-adjusted and have so many good things to look forward to. Graduate school will open new doors, challenges, and opportunities. My job as a writer is still very rewarding, but work is no longer my haven. I come home at night and I can "just be".
Nearly 8 months ago I left my husband of 5 years. I left 4.5 years later than I should have. Surprised? Those of you who thought you knew us as a couple probably are. We appeared to have it all. You saw what we wanted you to see. You saw us as you wanted to see us. You knew us as we wanted you to know us. And, yes, you knew us as you wanted to know us. The signs were there. Hindsight is always 20/20.
About this time a year ago I was living moment to moment, but not so as to soak in each moment. I lived moment to moment because it's the only way I could get through the day. I fell asleep at night only to be awakened by one or both of the girls crying in the morning. I would lay there, eyes shut, thinking "Please no, don't make me get out of bed and live this life". The crying would continue and soon I would get up. Who else was going to do it? Unfeeling and basically numb I would get Sarah and Emily dressed for school. I went through the motions. Get in the car, buckle, drive, arrive at school, put lunches in the refrigerator, kiss Sarah and Emmy good-bye, drive to work.
Work was a haven. At work I was spoken to with respect. At work I was listened to as if I had something to say worth hearing. Simple please and thank yous were a typical part of my day. A "hey, how are you" in passing in the hallway acknowledged that I did in fact exist. I threw myself into my work. Then, the day would end, and it would be time to get back in the car and drive "home".
A chaotic scene would greet me at the door. Two young children, maybe fed, maybe not, maybe bathed, maybe not would be in that scary "overly-tired" place. As I tried to restore some order and make sense of it all, inevitably I would be welcomed with all the ways I had failed as a mom, as a wife, and even as a person that day, the previous day, the previous week, and if I was lucky, how I would fail tomorrow too.
I couldn't win. I tried to stay one step ahead. I tried to be everything all the time.
One night, after everyone else had gone to bed, I reached a breaking point. I finally let myself think about the previous 5 years. Really think about them. I didn't think about them the way I wanted to think about them. I thought about them as they were. As they really were. My very real reality was that I was miserable. In five years of marriage, I couldn't remember a single moment that brought me joy. I couldn't remember a single "good time". It seemed like everything I could come up with was marred with some kind of dark moment, which overshadowed anything that might have been "good".
When did I become such a negative person? When did I start to feel so lost in my own life? Little bit by little bit one person had been able to wear me down without my even knowing it.
Perhaps it started the first time he called me a name at the start of an argument. Perhaps it started when he promised he would never swear at me again and did it anyway. Perhaps it was when he criticized me one too many times for hair that was too short or too straight. Perhaps it was when he left the table and all his dirty dishes behind and watched tv the rest of the evening while I cleaned up, night after night. I don't know when it started, but I remember when it ended.
On May 7, our fifth wedding anniversary, he gave me a card. It was a far cry from the trip I dreamed of five years earlier on our honeymoon that we would take for such a milestone anniversary. But, nonetheless, a card is a card and it was something. The card itself was one of those cartoon-ish cards that aren't even appropriate for anniversaries, but that wasn't the worst of it. He had written at the very bottom that "he would do this all over again." Without meaning to, I looked at him and said, "I wouldn't. I would not choose to do this all over again." He looked surprised. I continued, "I did not sign up to be criticized for even the most insignificant of decisions. I did not sign up to be sworn at in front of my children. I did not sign up to made to feel as though I was the last person who mattered in your life, the last person who mattered in anyone's life. I think I am done."
"Done? What do you mean by done?" I explained that I had tried for too long with too few results (read, NO results). I couldn't continue giving and giving only to be stomped on again and again. He suggested therapy. I agreed. Admittedly, it was to buy time. I hadn't planned on telling him I was leaving. I had no where to go. Therapy bought me time. I will never know if what he told our therapist is really how he perceived things to be in our marriage, but I can promise you, he did not tell the whole story. In five years of marriage he never once told me he was sorry. Not once. To this day, he still hasn't. "Sorry" would have gone a long way.
Then came the dreaded phone call to my parents. I prepared myself for the worst, expecting to be disowned. I knew this was news they would not be anticipating and I also knew that in 34 years of marriage their lives were not always sunshine and roses. How could I explain that I was not giving up. I was not taking the easy way out. They did not know the "him" as I knew him. At first my mother was supportive. Shocked, but immediately supportive. My father, not so much. He told me to go back to my husband and make things right. I told him no. He asked if he beat me. I said no. . .what I was thinking was "not yet". He walked away and with a backward glance told me that this decision would land my children in therapy someday. The words stung, but in my heart of hearts, I knew I had to leave and I was leaving as much for me as I was my children.
I want my children to make better choices than me. I want my children to grow to be strong, confident women. I want my children to know I fought for them. I fought for what was right. If I do not set the example, who will? Do as I say, not as I do? I don't think so. No one will treat me again, and no one is to ever treat them, the way I was treated. It's unacceptable.
So, I moved out. I found an apartment, signed the lease, and paid the security deposit. There was no going back. I drafted a less than perfect custody agreement, but one that ensured he would not show up at my door at all hours of the day and night creating a scene that my neighbors, me, and most importantly Sarah and Emily would have to witness. It worked. For the most part he stayed away and left me alone. I asked for half the value of the house. Nothing more. Nothing less. He told me since I left, I deserved nothing. I filed for divorce and asked for everything, including primary custody of my children.
I don't know when this will end. We are at an impasse where custody is concerned. He told me himself he doesn't care what custody he ends up with, but he will make sure I do not get the custody I want. He has rejected settlement after settlement pertaining to the divorce. I have nothing left to give. My attorney told me to fight for it all. Worst case scenario, he and I will be divorced by default on July 17, 2012 although the battle for the "stuff" we've accumulated, or at least the value of it, could go on long after that. It's a mess. This is not what I wanted, but then nothing was what I wanted from the outset.
I walk away knowing I did try. I fought for 4.5 years for the life I wanted for myself, for my children, and for my family. It was too much. I lost myself and everything I strived for in the process.
It's been 8 months now, my parents seem to have accepted this new reality of mine. It's not the life they wanted for me or their grandchildren, but I think they realize we're okay, better than okay, actually. I think they wonder how and why I made some of the choices that I did (believe me, I do too), but we're moving forward.
My brother hasn't said much one way or the other. This has always been funny to me. I'm glad there is one person who seemingly doesn't care. I'm glad we can talk and "his" name never ever comes up. It's like my brother is oblivious to the upheaval in our family thanks to me. It's good.
My friends never let me down. Three in particular were behind me 100% and never asked the tough questions. They just accepted that I got out of a situation that I deemed unhealthy for me and for my children. It was what I had to do and they were okay with that. They never asked "why".
The most amazing group of 100+ moms from across the country that I could ever hope to know were, and continue to be, my sounding board. They have cried with me, laughed with me, schemed with me, but most importantly they have supported me. They just accept me for who I am. They are, like I said, amazing.
My sister. If everyone had a sister like her, the world would be a much better place. From the words "I'm leaving" she's been there. She's the one who watches my children for court dates and custody stuff. She's the one who says, who cares why you did it. Move on. She's the one who feels about "him" the same way I do and it's simply because she's my sister. She's the one who will tell you the "old Dana" is back and it makes her happy. She thought she lost me, any maybe for a time, she did. I also need to thank her husband who is inconvenienced while she does all this for me, but who seems equally glad the family tree has one less branch.
As for me, I've gained some perspective and learned things only life experiences can teach. I am important to me again. I am a mother, a full-time student, and a writer. I am doing it and doing it better than I ever could have imagined. The girls are well-adjusted and have so many good things to look forward to. Graduate school will open new doors, challenges, and opportunities. My job as a writer is still very rewarding, but work is no longer my haven. I come home at night and I can "just be".
Big hugs Dana. This is so moving and indicative of the strong woman you ARE. Sometimes the right thing to do is not the easiest. :)
ReplyDeleteYou are AMAZING. xoxoxo
ReplyDeleteI admire the strength that you have gone through all of this with. It wasn't an easy decision and it hasn't been an easy road, but you have handled it all so well and with an amazing strength.
ReplyDeleteYou are amazing Dana, and I admire your strength!! You made a BIG (and right) decision and it will all pay off for you and your girls! You can only go up from here!! We're always here for you, remember that!!
ReplyDeleteWe love you, Dana!!! Big hugs - you're an amazing mom! xo
ReplyDeleteWow, Dana. You ARE amazing. I admire your strength and tenacity, and I know you've done the right thing for you and your girls. big hugs!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for sharing this Dana. You have been so strong through all of this and will only continue to grow stronger. ((Hugs))
ReplyDeleteDana, you are truly AMAZING! Sharing your story with others will only help them to make the decision that is best for them as well. I have to say that you do look so much happier in all of your recent pictures. You did the right thing and your life will be full of suprises good and bad but they will all lead you to the place you are meant to be; happy and loved! :) HUGS!!!
ReplyDeleteThat is amazing, Dana! You sound so much happier. I know you still have a long road ahead with the custody agreement and all, but you are a fighter!!
ReplyDeleteYou are so strong, Dana! I know that you did what was best for you and your girls, and I admire you so much for that. I'm sure the road won't be easy, but I know you can do it! We're here for you! <3
ReplyDeleteDana, your story brought me to tears. I'm so happy for you. You are such an inspiration. What a strong woman!
ReplyDelete