Mr. Moneybags…

Anderson is pulling out all the stops lately with the new girlfriend.  He is taking her and her kids on a National Park getaway this weekend.  The same one he took a previous girlfriend to last year.  Funny how my divorce has been going on so long that the National Park getaway is now an annual event…  Oy…

But anywhoo…  Next weekend he is taking them in the other direction, to a luxury hot springs resort.  But life has been so hard for him – they deserve some relaxation.

Nice that he has so much money to be jet-setting off every weekend.  I’m sure he is expecting that I will be picking up the tab.

Our second mediation is scheduled for next week.  He is going to ask that I carry him on the insurance for the rest of the year – even after the divorce is final.  Umm… No…  First of all, it isn’t permitted.  Second…  Just. No.  His ass will be dropped the second that decree is official.

Meanwhile, I have been sicker than a dog, and barely making it through my days.  The good news is that I am actually sleeping through the night, for the most part.  The bad news is that I wish I could be sleeping through the days too.  I haven’t felt this fatigued in a long time.

Solitary Easter

My parents invited me out for Easter dinner this evening, but I declined.

You see, I love my father, but I have always had a challenging relationship with him.  For some reason, that I have never understood, my father refuses to help me with stuff.  You know, things that Dads typically know how to do, that daughters do not.  Things like changing furnace filters, oiling the garage door, building a rock wall, swapping out light fixtures, etc.  It isn’t that my Dad isn’t handy – he is.  He has just been generally unwilling to help me.  I now will only ask for help if I am really in a bind, because I don’t want to deal with the condescending comments.  “You should know how to do this.”  Really?  Because who ever taught me?  It wasn’t you, Dad.

The most aggravating thing is that my Dad helps my brother with household stuff ALL. THE. TIME.  A few months after announcing to me that he would not help me paint my one-story small house (I hadn’t actually asked even, as I was planning to hire it out), he headed out for 10 days to help my brother paint his large, two-story home.  I have dozens of examples just like this, as well as some way more major failures.

Last week, I went to their house for dinner, as my mom had decided to speak to me again after the “won’t you be your cousin’s tour guide?” debacle.  My parent’s old friends were in town and visiting.  My Dad made reference to a Facebook post I had made about looking for a place to get my lawnmower serviced.  Sharpen blades, change oil, that kind of thing.  His friend asked why I was looking for a place, and then said to my Dad, “Why don’t you just do it for her?”  My Dad replied, “I am trying to help her become an independent woman.”

For those of you who are new readers, I am an executive manager earning a six figure income.  I report directly to the head of our organization.  I purchased my first home when I was single.  I lived on my own in South America.  So, I greatly appreciated when the wife looked at my Dad and said, “I think she has already proven that she is an independent woman.”  Drop mic.

I have been very sick this weekend, so I just blamed it on that.  I spent almost all day in bed yesterday.  But even if I were feeling fine, I didn’t really want to have a repeat of that.  It just stirs up all sorts of hurt in me.  But, since I declined, my Mom isn’t speaking to me again…

Anderson of course, took his new girlfriend and her kids to my in-laws to celebrate…  Because, of course.  I was replaced long ago.  He doesn’t even believe in Jesus…

Happy Easter All.  Hope yours is better…

Mediation Fuckery

We had mediation at the beginning of this week.  It was basically useless.  It consisted of Anderson being completely unwilling to budge on this idea that everything needs to be split EXACTLY 50/50%.  Despite the fact that he probably contributed about 5% of what is currently in our investment and savings accounts.  Asshole.

I offered more and more, trying to end this.  Cash up front to go away.  More cash than I actually have – my mother offered to loan me some, just to get this over with.  The mediator clearly empathized with me.  Although he didn’t say it in those terms, he thought Anderson is a douche.  An “unsympathetic witness” is the official divorce terminology for douche…

Anderson (probably driven by his attorney) again wants a new appraisal.  To continue arguing for increased equity in a house that he hasn’t contributed a dime to in over a year.  That he really never contributed much to even before that.

I completely broke down in front of my attorney and the mediator.  Even the mediator, who is not supposed to give legal advice, advised me to not settle.

We have one more mediation scheduled for the week after next.  And then I guess if that doesn’t work, we go to trial.

This man who has taken so much from me.  He has stolen from me any fond memories of our time together, as I now believe that he only loved me for my money.  He has stolen my opportunity to have children.  He has stolen my ability to trust people, and to ever want to open my heart to a stranger.

Can’t he do the decent thing and let this end?  Can’t he just one time be a decent person?  I guess I know the answer to that…

 

He Knows

I woke up yesterday from a dream in which MS and I were making love. As always, both in my dreams and in real life, it was so full of love and healing energy, and deeply satisfying. Our intimate connection is unlike anything I have ever known. A tenderness that exists within the urgency, love being shared between the two of us through generous touch and pleasure. I awakened from the dream feeling his presence in my room; feeling his touch lingering on my skin and smelling him in the air around me.

I didn’t tell MS about my dream, or the deep need that I felt for him yesterday, nor did I write about it on this blog.  A need for his healing touch that was stronger than it has been in days. I didn’t tell him that I was aching for him, or how badly I just wanted to be curled up next to him.

We had been in brief contact via email over the weekend about my upcoming mediation, and yesterday before I went in I let him know. After I finished I let him know too, and gave the briefest synopsis on how it went (which was badly).

At that point, he asked directly if I had been thinking a lot yesterday morning about our intimacy. He said that he could sense that I had been. That his heart had been on fire missing me and he had been experiencing an intense physiological and emotional reaction, knowing that our intimacy was in the forefront of my thoughts. He told me that he has not had an orgasm since the last morning we were together and that he cannot bring himself to release outside of me.

I do not know why we were brought together. Why we came together at this time and in this space to walk this difficult path that we walk. But it is clear to me that our connection was not by chance. I do know that I have never known anyone capable of such harmony with my thoughts and emotions; someone who can read me from hours away without hearing a word, or seeing a gesture. Nothing I said to him in those emails could have conveyed the feelings that I was having, yet he knew. He always knows.

How does this happen?

Up the Ante…

My attorney and I met early this week to discuss and prep for next week’s mediation. I was frustrated with her because by Friday I had still not seen a draft of the statement that was to go to the mediator. But by Friday night I was glad she procrastinated…

Anderson’s attorney sent his first. So I got to see what their initial proposal will be before sending ours.  I was pissed before when I saw his original settlement offer.  Well, now he has increased his financial demand… By a lot…

He is still arguing that he should be entitled to half of the equity in the house and investments that has accumulated over the YEAR since we separated. Still arguing that the terms of our prenup don’t matter.  Still arguing that the separation statement he signed is irrelevant.

I was pleased with the offer my attorney drafted. Since he increased his offer, I lowered mine. My attorney found a case that supports that he is entitled to less now since he wasted so much while we were married.  All the alcohol and the excessive spending should reduce his share now. Not to mention his refusal to get a job in his field (teaching) and live up to his promises and earning potential.

But I still hate this. I feel drained. Exhausted. And after two nights of fairly decent sleep, I am right back to the insomnia. It is 4 am. I have been awake for an hour. I went to bed at 11:15…  Never enough sleep…

Adjustments

I miss MS. There isn’t any other way around it, so I might as well just acknowledge it. My heart aches for him – more than it ever ached for my husband when our marriage was ending. My relationship with MS is something different, something more, something special.

I sent him an email last Saturday night telling him how much I am struggling – how lost I feel and how I am hurting.  I know he isn’t ignoring me, but to go from very regular contact via phone calls and texts back to emails a few times a week has been hard for me… He wrote back on Monday morning, acknowledging my pain, and letting me know how much he is hurting too – and hurting for the pain that he knows he is causing me.

He says he still believes that we were brought together for a reason, and that he is not leaving me. That he cannot imagine a world in which he could forget about me or let me go. That his distance right now is so that he can set things in the right order.

Pieces of his email resonated strongly with me. All of it helped to lift the weight that has settled on my shoulders.

“It hurts me to know that this is causing such great suffering for you. It hurts to be apart from you, too.”

“It isn’t that the separation FROM you is positive but that I am not doing things out of order. I need to be responsible and upright.”

“I know that you were brought into my life for a reason.” “This love is real and I need to not pollute that or denigrate it by my premature actions.” “This is not to say that I am leaving you or that I have left. I haven’t. You are very much in my heart.”

“Like you, I never said a word to you that I did not mean.”

“You deserve your love to be fully separated from all entanglements and to be fully in you.”

“We are moving to the place where we need to be. We do need to be healthy and we are heading there.”

“I can only give to you what I, myself allow and that is that you and I didn’t meet by happenstance and that I know that there is meaning in our connection.”

We spoke more via email that morning, and worked through some of the hurts – the fact that I still hate when he calls himself an asshole.

The fact that it grates at him when I refer to “the rules,” as I try to understand the boundaries of our current reality. He feels like “rules” means that he is imposing arbitrary BS on our relationship to manipulate the situation as he sees fit. Which isn’t actually what I ever meant when I said “rules,” and he knows that. He admits that it is his own sensitivity to the connotation of the word that feeds his reaction.

I know he is dealing with depression. I know that all of this is hurting him deeply too. He is struggling – his absences come from a place of needing to retreat to process things. His emotions are so raw and powerful that there are times with me that he cannot contain them, and he has trouble working through things when the tears and pain are so overpowering.

I hate that he finds it so difficult to offer himself the forgiveness and grace that he offers so easily to others. He made sure to tell me again that he only sees purity and good in our relationship and intimacy. That he only sees good in me. That his judgment is directed at himself alone. And that it what he must work through, to avoid bringing that guilt and judgment into our future.

So, in the meanwhile, I continue to try to make it through my day to day. My rapidly approaching divorce mediation, the challenges at work, having some things with friends and family to look forward too. There are those things, even though I haven’t had the energy to blog yet about those. There are lights on the horizon to move towards. I am not putting my life on hold.

Yet I still miss my kindred spirit. I miss my sounding board. Terribly.

My Murdering Uterus

As if I needed to add any more insult to the injury that is my insomnia, my uterus feels the need to try to kill me. Yep. Of course, last night, after only getting a few hours of sleep each night for a few weeks now, my body decided to up the ante, in the form of excruciating cramps (sorry guys, but it is what it is).

 

I used to be a young woman who was blessed with no cramps at all, until I wasn’t. Now, some months, I experience a few nights where it seems my body is actively trying to expel a large goat (with horns) from the scar I carry from an old appendix surgery. Last night the goat was also breathing fire.

 

The pain was mild last night when I went to bed, and I was determined that this would be the night I was going to get some rest. I was exhausted. It was only the first day of my period, so my cramps shouldn’t have been bad. But nope. I toss. I turn. And the pain keeps increasing. I had taken a sleep aid and melatonin to help me rest, then got up to take some ibuprofen when the pain was getting worse. Still no dice. At 1 am, I got out the big guns, in the form of a ½ tab of Percocet. And then I lay there, writhing, hoping it would take effect. Nada. At 1:30, I took another ½ tab of Percocet and set up the heating pad. Still nothing.

 

I was fairly convinced by this point that I was going to die – but what is worse, an agonizing death by abdominal pain, or a slow, agonizing death due to liver failure from all the painkillers? Note to self: it is a bad idea to be pondering this at 2:30 in the morning after several days with very little sleep.

 

I finally fell asleep sometime after 3:00 am – a fitful, still pained, sleep. Of course I still have to be up to go to work!  I have to figure out a way to get some rest!