dear Mr. Lawyer, you are not my shrink.

dear Mr. Lawyer,

thank you for taking the time to meet with me today. it was very helpful to talk through the elements of a divorce: what the documents do and do not cover, parenting, property, how long the process takes, etc.

however, i would like to express my shock and horror over the direction the conversation then took.

i understand that a majority of divorces are really quite ugly and unpleasant for all parties so i can see why you, Mr. Lawyer, would not entirely comprehend that my husband and i are on very good speaking terms. in fact, to facilitate your comprehension, i repeatedly used the word “friendly.” clearly, this was not enough for you because you eventually point blank asked me

why do you want a divorce?

i thought this was an okay question. you do have to act on my behalf, after all. i guess you have a right to know some of the basics. but to assume that my response of “he fell out of love” should be partnered with “he met someone else” was presumptuous and inappropriate.

and then, to inquire further about my husband’s emotional reactions,

have you asked him if he really understands what it means to get divorced? how it will change his life forever? have you seen counseling? will he at least see a counselor without you? does he have a best friend you can convince to talk to him for you?

seemed to lend itself more towards questions that a counselor, a psychiatric counselor, would ask me. not you, Mr. Lawyer, who i came to for legal aide.

furthermore, i did not need you to attempt to tell me all about the character that is my husband:

where did he grow up? oh, maine. so he’s not comfortable with emotions at all. i bet he walked away from you every time you tried to talk about emotions. i bet he just shut you down.

and then to add a cherry to this ice cream sundae of a conversation, you accused me of just the sort of thing an angry husband would:

how did you manage to guilt-trip this man into giving you so much child-support?

Mr. Lawyer, you made me cry.

i did not cry because i recognized truth in your statements.
i did not cry because i realized you are right: i do just need to try harder and then my marriage will work.
i cried because i came to you to help add closure to this event but instead, yet again, i was faced with someone asking me “why” and then staring at me in disbelief when i said simply, “he fell out of love.” and then trying to convince me that it wasn’t over.

Mr. Lawyer, i don’t need anyone to tell me how little this situation makes sense.
i don’t need anyone to remind me how much it hurts to have the man you love stop being in love with you, but still love you so much that he calls you his best friend.
i don’t need anyone to remind me how weird that is.
i feel it in my heart.
i am the one dealing with this.
i am the one who needs the closure of divorce to end this unkept promise.
how dare you try to analyze my life and presume to know what went on between myself and my husband.
how dare you tell me, in so many words, that i haven’t tried hard enough, that sometimes couples come in to see you but they end up getting back together.

how dare you pour salt over my wounds.

sometimes, things happen in life that don’t entirely make sense. it doesn’t mean they’re wrong. they just happen.
sometimes, things happen in life that are entirely different from the accepted norm. they too aren’t wrong. they just happen.

Mr. Lawyer, although you are from vermont, a place that puts out men of the same new england emotionally-challenged nature as the men from maine, although you went through divorce as well, you cannot save my marriage by assuming you know my life. in fact, you cannot even end my marriage because i will never be returning to your law office.

sincerely,

single mom with tiny tot

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farewell sorrow

i called a lawyer. okay, well, i emailed a lawyer who said i should call her. she’s in my moms group and says she can probably handle the divorce for me since it’s uncontested.

i’ve told myself i’ll call her tomorrow: monday.

farewell fear.

tonight, my live-out husband and i drove to his brother’s apartment. we went down for the day to have a belated thanksgiving with him and my in-laws.

i’ve gotten used to the surreal feeling of visiting with them. we all function the same way. we all speak and act the same way, but i no longer feel irritated with my live-out husband when he doesn’t do something i wish he had. i just do it myself instead. or i don’t bother tip-toeing around the bush and just ask him to do it. it works much better: communicating and all.

farewell surreal.

on the way home, A__ finally asleep in the back, he brought up my house quest. i’m supposed to be looking for a house. he mentioned that if i did find a house with an apartment, he’d be interested in being my tenant. i’d asked him about this awhile ago and told him to think on it. so, naturally, we ended up talking about how that would work. would it make dating other people awkward? would it be better for A__? for us?

he said it would be better for A__, and for him. i asked why it would be better for him. he said, “i’d get to see A__ more.” i liked that response.

eventually, after more chat, i said, “i still don’t understand. if we both wish so hard that this had worked out, why can’t we fix it?” he said, “i don’t know. we’ll never know.” or, something to that effect.

i took some deep breaths to make sure i didn’t drop a tear.

i know it’s over. i know it’s better over. we’re both happier in many ways. we’re both moving on in many ways. he is becoming the person i always wanted to watch him become, he’s just doing it without me as a partner. and i’m doing the same thing. and i like that: that we both continue to live our lives and become better people.

so, tonight, i say farewell to sorrow. it does me no good to linger. my mourning is essentially complete. and i will make it so by calling the lawyer tomorrow to make an appointment to talk divorce. we will legally end what our hearts already have.

farewell sorrow.

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smack down

here at the SMHW (Single Mom’s House of Wrestling) the latest smack down was fortunately interrupted by Live-Out Dad arriving early.  let’s recap the match:

Single Mom had had it. A__ would nap, damn it. would nap, i tell you!

A__ had had it. Mama would nurse, damn it. would nurse, i tell you!

after an hour of nursing to sleep and then popping awake while being placed in comfy cozy crib, and the said popping awake being accompanied by shrieking, howling, writhing, and general head flinging, and Single Mom’s nipples feeling like they were going to fall off, Single Mom plopped A__ in her crib, shut the door, and went to the living room to get the work done that she needed to get done before rehearsal that night.

A__ screamed. she howled. she shrieked. she gulped and inhaled and trembled and shrieked some more.

A__ won that round because after about 20 minutes, Single Mom went back in to nurse. but she watched the minutes tick by, and A__’s eyes remained open. suck, suck, suck. “there’s nothing left!” Single Mom screamed to herself, “you’re sucking for nooooo reason!” and the minutes ticked by until finally Single Mom went into the offensive again. once again she plopped A__ in her crib, but this time she enticed her with books and toys before shutting the door to get her work done.

A__ screamed. she howled. she shrieked. she gulped and inhaled and trembled and shrieked some more.

A__ won again. after another 20 minutes, Single Mom removed A__ from the crib and walked her around the living room to catch her breath. but as soon as they sat on the couch so Single Mom could finish her work, A__ started screaming and launching herself at Single Mom’s boobs. must nurse! must nurse or the world will end!

Single Mom put her on the floor, knowing full well that A__ is not tall enough to crawl up on to the couch and continued to finish her work.

A__ screamed. she howled. she shrieked. she gulped and inhaled and trembled and shrieked some more.

and Dad arrived, half an hour early. and Single Mom breathed a sigh of relief as he picked up A__ to be a comforting hug without boobs to tempt her. and Single Mom escaped out the door at a sprint.

all that smacking and grappling, and it ended in a draw after all.

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family matters

this morning i stood in the kitchen, A__ in my arms. she was laughing. her dad was playing a roaring version of peek-a-boo, surprising her by sticking his head over each of my shoulders and up under my arms. his close proximity was enticing, unnerving, deeply saddening: i thought my heart might explode all over again.

tonight, in a moment of low blood-sugar and caffeine-withdrawal sadness, i divulged to him that my finances are a mess. i under-estimated. i missed my utilities last month and didn’t even know it. i had to put my car in the shop. i had to bring my cat to the vet. it’s A___’s first birthday soon. life is happening and my savings is quickly disappearing. according to the calculator, i am worth negative nothing times five.

and then i stopped: because he asked questions, and offered more money, and i didn’t want him to know what was going on. i didn’t want him to want to help me. i didn’t want him to care. because when he cares, i get confused. why do you still care about me when you don’t want to be my life-partner? i can’t swallow it.

so it all came out. and i didn’t mean for it to. and so he did what i wanted him to do this morning when he was playing peek-a-boo, he grabbed me, and hugged me, and wrapped my arms around him so i would squeeze him back.

and i ran away.

because i cannot accept comfort from a man who broke my heart but still wants to take care of me by cooking me dinner and making sure i can pay the electric bill. because i cannot accept comfort from a man who walked away but says he loves me and wants to take care of me and thinks i’m beautiful. because he says these things to me as a ‘friend.’ but they come out of the lips of a man who used to be my life partner.

so i ran away.

into my bedroom. i left him standing there, chasing after A__ who was trying to chase after me. and i lay curled up on the floor with my head on a dirty sweater. because that was the only part of the room i could get to. the rest is full of laundry, a half built shelf, books, computers, receipts, papers, crap. so i lay curled up on the floor and listened to him sing our daughter to sleep and composed this post in my head.

i almost didn’t write it down. because when i first started this blog, it was read only by internet strangers. now, people i know read this.

and keeping the sadness of my heart under wraps has become second nature to me. of course i’m fine. i’m happier than i’ve ever been. aren’t i? isn’t it okay to get over your husband in a mere 6 months?

if you know me, now you know, i’m a liar.

i am sad. i am desperately sad.

yes, i’m also infinitely happy with the joys of motherhood and some very exciting artistic prospects. but deep down, i’m still very sad. i don’t eat enough. i don’t sleep enough. i’m beyond broke. and i can’t figure out why the hell i’m living in the town i live in.

so there you have it. just don’t pity me. take this post as the need to finally admit some very important things to myself. you just happen to be privileged enough to be included in these matters.

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the single parent flirt, revisited

sometimes even a city can feel small.

although, even though i technically live in a city, it’s more like a small town america kind of city. let’s put it this way, the gym where i belong is considered “the best gym” in town. but they don’t really have any classes beyond yoga and step, there’s only one classroom, on hot days like today the a/c couldn’t keep up with the sweaty bodies, and they don’t provide towels to use in their nasty-ass showers. in a real city, this wouldn’t even rank in the top 100.

so tonight, at this ‘best’ gym in this ‘city’ while i was peddling in place, i spotted Single Dad. ( for those of you who need a refresher, read my original post here.) i pretended not to recognize him. in fact, i pretended so hard that i decided it couldn’t be him. besides, if it was him, i might cry. i might cry because it turns out, i can’t handle the thought of handling another man right now. i would like to wish that i want to flirt and date and such. but i don’t. okay, well, maybe i’ll flirt, but only if there’s an absolute guarantee that i don’t need to know your name and i’ll never see you again.

so, i continued peddling and hoped he’d leave. instead, he stood about 15 feet away, talking to a buddy. i deftly avoided eye contact and continued to pretend it wasn’t him.

on to the mat for stretching. i had that sinking feeling that someone was looking at me. i chalked it up to the fact that i was in a gym and everyone looks at everyone in a gym. but i glanced in the direction of the feeling any way. Single Dad. at the water fountain. crap. “it’s not hi. it’s not him. it’s not him. it’s not him.”
off to the next machine. he walked by and made eye contact. the only way to avoid him would have been to cross the street, but i wasn’t on a street, and i was being cornered by a nautilus machine anyways.

are you ready for it? what follows is the absolute horror of a bland conversation, as close to word for word as i can remember.

him: “hi”

me: “oh, hi. i don’t remember your name.” (this is the line that means: ‘i forgot it because you weren’t a memorable person.’)

him: mumble

me: “how are you?” (shake hands to avoid the fact that i still didn’t catch the name. still a wimpy shake for those of you who care.)

him: “tough week.”

me: “i’m sorry. i’m sure the heat hasn’t helped.”

him. “yeah. you?”

me: “me too.”

him: “oh?”

me: “yeah. you know. the heat.”

him: “where’s your cutie?” (or maybe he said ‘little one.’ i have no idea, because he mumbled it and indicated what he was mumbling by holding his hand out flat in front of him at about the head height of my daughter.)

me: “with her dad.”

him: “are you still together?” (how’s that for a blunt question?)

me: “no. just separated.” (as in, GO AWAY i’m in emotional distress and for all you know, it could be a very temporary separation so i’m not the kind of girl you should try to hang out with)

him: “oh. it’s hard at first. when you first come home and don’t get to see the little smiling face.” (okay, okay, now i feel a little sorry for you, ya big lug.)

me: “well, she lives with me. so, i guess i got the better end of the deal.” (maybe, if i’m a little mean, he’ll get a clue.)

him: “well, sometimes you need a break.” (wait a second, no you don’t. he doesn’t live with you. you just wish you needed a break from him. what a lousy attempt to keep this lousy conversation going.)

me: “yeah. i certainly didn’t feel bad leaving her tonight.”

him: “funny to see you here.”

me: “yeah.”

him: (okay, you’re thoroughly bored i imagine so i won’t make you suffer. it lasted one more topic about him telling me about his vacation next week. as if i cared. then i beat it over to the stair-master.)

i did not manage to make it out without another run in. we both headed for the locker rooms at the same time. i have no idea if it was coincidence or planned. he made one pathetic attempt to invite me out. “you’re going home already?” what are you in high school?

and now, every time i walk in the gym door, i will have to face the likelihood of running into Single Dad.

a pox on you Fates.

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the single parent flirt

i don’t know his name. he said it to me yesterday over an overly soft and caressing handshake when he introduced himself after foisting him and his son upon A and myself for about an hour. let’s call him Single Dad.

his son’s name was Ryan. Ryan is three, very cute: not overly smart, but has lots of energy, a tendency to propel spit when he talks, and possesses an intense love of babies.

he spotted A at the park. she had toddled her way up to stare through the fence at the big kids in the wading pool. he was in with the big kids, but was hesitant to get in the water. particularly when Single Dad would shout out things like “i thought you wanted to go swimming!” so when he found A, she was both a baby to admire and a relief from the stress of getting into the pool. “she gwabs my fingwews!” “boop! wittle baby nose!”

then they said “buh-bye” and we headed to the fountain to stick our toes in the jet streams of water.

it wasn’t long before Ryan and Single Dad found us again. Ryan and A chatted and flirted. Single Dad attempted a few false starts at making poor conversation and eventually fell back on commenting about A’s cuteness and how much he wished Ryan was that little again. then he tried to make me feel sorry for him because Ryan always wants to be picked up. boohoo big strong dad who’s the size of a football player.

suddenly, the lawn sprinklers turned on. Ryan went dashing into the fray while A and i beat a hasty retreat. “take care!”

we headed across the street to the band-shell. being a theatre artist, i wanted to check out the one legit outdoor venue in town. A foiled my plan by getting hungry so we sat down atop the hill and pulled out crackers. that’s when i heard, “Ryan! go roll down the hill.” “no” “go on, go roll down the hill.” “no”

now it was clear, we were being deliberately followed. Single Dad sat down next to us without hesitation and proceeded to use his child to flirt with me. every time Ryan stopped flirting with A, Single Dad would grab him and tickle him and then grin over at me and look for a response. i sighed inwardly and attempted to have a conversation with Single Dad. it didn’t work. to be blunt, like his son, he was not the smartest man.

so, i had a conversation with Ryan instead.

he had all sorts of interesting things to say about animals and fences and bands and balloons. Single Dad could not understand a word he was saying.

at ‘dinner time,’ we scooted away. Single Dad made the aforementioned introduction. the pathetic handshake sent shivers of apathy up my spine.

on the way home, i swore to myself that i would wear my wedding band to the park from here on out.

———-

to add a little spice to my first single parent flirt adventure, this evening i pulled into the mall parking lot with about an hour left all to myself: no baby in tow. i was on the hunt for a cheap pair of funky black heels. just the sort of thing one wears when you go out with girlfriends and hope to be flirted with.

i locked the car and turned to head across the parking lot, when who should i see also walking towards the mall entrance? Single Dad and Ryan. I got back into the car and drove to Old Navy instead. i went home later not with funky black heels but with a ten pack of baby socks.

and so the fates decree: “If you choose not to accept the flirtations of stupid Single Dads who are cute and the size of football players, you will not be given the opportunity to buy funky black shoes in order to flirt with stupid Single Dads at bars.”

sigh.

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