Keep on going, you might get out…

Ignorantly, I thought that things would get easier with this divorce once Lucille had the chance to calm down in a city nearly 3 hours from me.  Rather, last night was spent in a full on panic attack, complete with involuntary body twitching, due to how nasty and one-sided it has become.  I’ve received 2 lengthy lawyer letters that were sent to Lucille’s lawyer in the past 4 days and they both had the power to inspire the desire to cower in a corner.  Those that know me know that I do not deal well with confrontation, and this is certainly bound to end with a blowup once Lucille reads exactly what my lawyer drafted.  It includes words like ‘abandonment’ and ‘indigent’ and ‘disabled’ when it describes me and inquires what exactly Lucille intends on doing about how he left me all this year.  It also inquires as to why he left me with all of our belongings (after he picked them over) and he took all of the income and monetary properties.  While I do think I am entitled to half of what he took without my permission after nearly 12 years of marriage, I am terrified that he will go further in using our kids to punish me.  When we were together he was very passive-aggressive, but it seems now that he alternates between not caring if I disappear and never see the kids again (his secret hope I believe) and downright hostility and cruelty.  He is seemingly allowing his family to raise the kids and pay his bills while he collects unemployment and works under the table for cash.  He refuses to provide food, clothing, diapers/pullups, shoes that fit, and various other things during my time with them and instead expects me to miraculously come up with the cash for them.  Yes, he knows that several doctors have legally documented that I am unable to work at this time and that m disability is taking forever to process.  Yes, he knows that my mom cannot afford these items without running behind on her own bills.  It’s a power struggle that the kids are being caught in, and they are miserable whenever they see he and I together.  The two oldest (nearly 5 years old) beg us not to talk to each other during pickup times because, while we don’t yell or fight, there is such tension that they react negatively.  I have begged for therapy to learn to co-parent since the day he told me he was leaving with no luck.  It’s even in a court order, but he won’t follow it because it costs money that he claims to not have.  Then again, I begged for marital counseling for years before he walked out with no success, so why am I surprised by this?  The bottom line is that he still is treating me like he’s doing me a favor by letting me visit the kids on the weekends and he is not involving me in any of the decisions (including school) about them.  And, yes, I do have joint custody, for all the good that does me.  His attitude is so superior that it makes me want to give up – which I know is exactly what he wants.  I’m the one who wanted these kids.  I’m the one who fought for years to have them.  I laid on my bathroom floor for 8 miscarriages all alone.  I went through 2 extremely dangerous pregnancies without comfort or support from him.  I was the primary caregiver to my kids for over 4 years.  And now he wants to take that all away.  It’s so hard to not feel bitter and broken.

Scar Tissue That I Wish You Saw

Soft spoken with a broken jaw;
Step outside but not to brawl.
And autumn’s sweet;
We call it “fall”.
I’ll make it to the moon if I have to crawl

Do I exist?  Sometimes I wonder if I actually died when I gave birth to my son.  I wonder if, instead, he died and my mind couldn’t handle it and has created this elaborate scenario of anguish.  I wonder if I died that night last year when I was found unresponsive in my car and spent a night in the hospital only to wake up confused and alone.  Lucille wouldn’t even get out of bed to come get me when he found out that I literally nearly died and required 5 pints of blood.  I wonder if today is simply a bad dream because I’m afraid that I cannot handle it.  I want to wake up.

I want to know what I did to deserve this.  All of the bad things that started before my birth and snowballed into a complete breakdown over the past 32 years.  A good person does not get that much in the “you can handle it” category, do they?

I feel like my childhood taught me little about the real world and yet far too much.  I learned to pretend to be strong and in control because it was expected.  I learned to stop talking because either no one was listening or I would be belittled for my words.  Ignored.  Made fun of.  Yelled at.  Accused of being melodramatic.  It was all there in different relationships throughout my first 18 years.

Today I don’t blog or comment because I’m afraid of all of those things.  I don’t talk to anyone, including my mother, because of those things.  I live in fear of it happening all over again, and so I distance myself and feel guilty for not opening up to those who seem to truly care.  Because many of those other people either seemed  care or were supposed to care but never followed through with what I needed to survive.

I met Lucille when I was 18 and completely naive.  I was madly in love a year later because he listened to me.  He talked to me and made me laugh.  He cared.  Nearly 13 years later he told me one day that he simply didn’t love me anymore.  Somewhere in my breakdown process he had stopped listening and talking and caring…and loving.  How did I not see it?  I adored him like no one in my entire lifetime.  He was my entire world.  The only person I talked to about how I really felt.  Weak.  Helpless.  Afraid.

I have more to say on this topic.  Much more.  Because people seem to believe that I can be strong, that I can survive, that I can move past this.  It will have to wait for another post, though, because right now I wonder if any of that is remotely possible.

I exist.  I just don’t know who I am.

With the birds I’ll share this lonely view….

My life as a Kenny Rogers song…

I’ve had some bad times
Lived through some sad times
But this time the hurtin’ won’t heal
You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille

Have you all ever heard the song Lucille?  Songs like that one will stick in your head for decades, I swear.  And now I’m living it to some degree, and it eff’ing sucks shit.  I need to document what took place from 1998 until this hellish 2011, and here seems as good a place as any.  Better than facebook, right?  Having nearly 500 ‘friends’ over there makes it hard to open up, you know?  So hang on tight and listen all about how I went from madly in love at 19 to nearly divorced at 32.  Throw in Infertility, pregnancy losses, Obesity, weight loss, Fibromyalgia, BiPolar Disorder and a few other medical issues – oh, and bankruptcy complete with homelessness – and I have plenty of trainwreck to keep coming back.  I am in survival mode right now…this cannot be allowed to break me.  This time the hurting must heal.