A Christmas Carol and a breakup
She is in her late forties, thin, always frowning. Her long brown hair in a low twisted bun, her mouth always set in the same stern frown. She doesn't want to be happy. Her husband left her a million years ago for a younger woman. Before he heft her he was abusive, financially, emotionally, and physically. She was homeless for two years. She is still bitter, still complains about every thing he ever did. She won't divorce him, she thinks if she files she will have to see him or he will beat her again.
Another woman, a classmate from fifth grade, I saw her at fast food restaurant. I said hi and sat down to wait for my friend to get their cheeseburger. She sat in the booth with me and before my friends burger was ready she had told me her whole divorce story. Her divorce from seven years ago. She lost her house and had to live in her car. She was all the way, in the moment from her husband leaving her from that far in the past. She wasn't alone, an older gentlemen was her current companion and he was finishing his food while she talked about her ex husband. She barely mentioned this man.
Scrooge saw his future if he didn't change, could these women be my ghosts of bitter wife future? All I can do is have hope even when I can't see hope ( part of one of my favorite bible verses). Every day it gets clearer that I may never get an explanation from RG. No closure no I'm sorry, not even a talk about the bills and the business end of a marriage ending. Hopefully I will not be one of these women in five years or maybe even five months. The way he left hurts but I hold onto every wonderful moment we had. RG is a bad break up, but when he was my husband he was kind and wonderful. I can hope to everyday take baby steps towards a future I didn't plan for, but I have had some amazing people show me a huge amount of compassion everyday. Perhaps those kind people, from some amazing places are the reason I can bypass the divorced woman's version of being Scrooge in A Christmas Carol.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Why 4:30 a.m.?
Why do I wake up every morning at 4:30 thinking of my husband? No alarm clock, just melancholy memories of everything good about him. I have to walk to the bus stop in the bitter cold to get to a waitress job, so I should be angry and hateful over this change, my new standard of living that's barely living at all. Just surviving.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Nicknames of an EX
Nicknames of an ex
I can't remember when LA Boy stopped having a name and was just called LA Boy. But break ups are hard and broken hearts sometimes need a push. So perhaps it is too much to have my husbands name in my essays and letters. A nickname for him and an evening of blog editing for me. Nothing mean or rude, but fitting. RG is how I will reference him from here out, not his initials, it's just a cheesy reference to the Julia Roberts movie Runaway Bride so RG / runaway groom, after all the marriage was just eight months, it might take me longer to edit his name off of my blog.
I can't remember when LA Boy stopped having a name and was just called LA Boy. But break ups are hard and broken hearts sometimes need a push. So perhaps it is too much to have my husbands name in my essays and letters. A nickname for him and an evening of blog editing for me. Nothing mean or rude, but fitting. RG is how I will reference him from here out, not his initials, it's just a cheesy reference to the Julia Roberts movie Runaway Bride so RG / runaway groom, after all the marriage was just eight months, it might take me longer to edit his name off of my blog.
Friday, February 13, 2015
Dear RG
Dear RG,
Here I am again, writing to you because we can't talk. I wish I could know why you have so much hatred, so much anger. I wish I could know if you had any kind thing to say about me. After the email I received from you yesterday I can't imagine you have any kindness towards me. I still care about you. I worry how cold you are on the scooter in the winter. Have you forgotten every kind thing I ever did? When you grandfather liked me and I bought him an electric razor. When I was the only person he would let shave him? He called me princess and told you to let me have the wedding cake. You broke up with me and left our marriage when he died, and your grief was so huge. I can't change how sick I was when your grandfather died.
Do you remember any kind thing you said about me? The last time we went fishing how you gushed over me when I caught that fish. When we were first dating we were at 7-11 and I asked you how did you like the new video game you bought. You had such a look of shock, and you said no one had ever asked you if you that. I still wish I could ask you about your day, your life. This break up is yours, please stop being angry. I begged for you to stay, I begged for you not to move out, I begged for you to reconcile, to work things out, therapy counseling. I begged while you hated and left. You have the breakup you wanted why are you still angry?
Here I am again, writing to you because we can't talk. I wish I could know why you have so much hatred, so much anger. I wish I could know if you had any kind thing to say about me. After the email I received from you yesterday I can't imagine you have any kindness towards me. I still care about you. I worry how cold you are on the scooter in the winter. Have you forgotten every kind thing I ever did? When you grandfather liked me and I bought him an electric razor. When I was the only person he would let shave him? He called me princess and told you to let me have the wedding cake. You broke up with me and left our marriage when he died, and your grief was so huge. I can't change how sick I was when your grandfather died.
Do you remember any kind thing you said about me? The last time we went fishing how you gushed over me when I caught that fish. When we were first dating we were at 7-11 and I asked you how did you like the new video game you bought. You had such a look of shock, and you said no one had ever asked you if you that. I still wish I could ask you about your day, your life. This break up is yours, please stop being angry. I begged for you to stay, I begged for you not to move out, I begged for you to reconcile, to work things out, therapy counseling. I begged while you hated and left. You have the breakup you wanted why are you still angry?
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Still human
When my husband ended our marriage it sent me into a crippling depression. I'm still drowning in it today. My husband left a thousand unanswered questions, but as I sit here crying for the millionth time, I wonder when did I stop being human? I drove him to work for three and a half years and I am now walking, biking and riding the bus to work. Winter weather that he wouldn't leave a dog out in, I am out in that weather getting to work any way I can. I am saving to get a car, but it feels like forever. And even with the mess he left, I still don't hate him. I don't understand him but I don't hate.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
I remember screaming
I remember screaming. I couldn't stop at just crying. I was beside the bed we picked out together and he was gone. He hated me. I crumpled into the floor. I was howling. Crying so loud that everything hurt. Visceral and thick, loud and ugly. I just couldn't stop. That whole month I just couldn't stop anything. I couldn't stop the break up and I couldn't stop how messed up I was. I still don't understand that month.
I couldn't even scream 12/28/90. I cried quietly and was just numb after. When I was a little girl and watched my father beat my mother I never screamed. I was quiet. The day after my mom would have "that talk", the talk where she would explain how "those fights" were our secret. I had to be quiet and not tell. Be quiet, keep those secrets. I wish I had kept quiet September. Everyday I dissect every detail. Thinking thinking over thinking. All the what ifs. There is no what if to fix it. Only what to do to survive it. I get up, I cry less every day. Sometimes. I breathe. I go to therapy. I mourn. Yes I mourn. My marriage was everything. I didn't take it for granted. I trusted it would always be there. I didn't throw it away like a forgotten piece of mail misplaced in the trash. I didn't forget my vows, I just got sick. So I mourn the loss. The loss of the life we had together. Cooking huge amounts, how much I just loved cooking for him. I even miss hanging up his clothes on the clothes line. The bickering over mowing the grass. Trying to buy him every hot pepper plant I could, then he would only eat the jalapeños.
So I mourn. I cry. I breathe. I phone a friend when I need a kick in the butt. And now I pray. Never before this break up, but everyday I pray now. Everyday I am blessed with what I have and every night I pray. I know little by little I am surviving. It's hard.
I couldn't even scream 12/28/90. I cried quietly and was just numb after. When I was a little girl and watched my father beat my mother I never screamed. I was quiet. The day after my mom would have "that talk", the talk where she would explain how "those fights" were our secret. I had to be quiet and not tell. Be quiet, keep those secrets. I wish I had kept quiet September. Everyday I dissect every detail. Thinking thinking over thinking. All the what ifs. There is no what if to fix it. Only what to do to survive it. I get up, I cry less every day. Sometimes. I breathe. I go to therapy. I mourn. Yes I mourn. My marriage was everything. I didn't take it for granted. I trusted it would always be there. I didn't throw it away like a forgotten piece of mail misplaced in the trash. I didn't forget my vows, I just got sick. So I mourn the loss. The loss of the life we had together. Cooking huge amounts, how much I just loved cooking for him. I even miss hanging up his clothes on the clothes line. The bickering over mowing the grass. Trying to buy him every hot pepper plant I could, then he would only eat the jalapeños.
So I mourn. I cry. I breathe. I phone a friend when I need a kick in the butt. And now I pray. Never before this break up, but everyday I pray now. Everyday I am blessed with what I have and every night I pray. I know little by little I am surviving. It's hard.
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