Monday morning and the new week kicks off.  No money, he was very late and now, at my original request, has transferred money to my new shiny bank account in my name only.  Unfortunately, and only after I made the numerous calls to ascertain what the (freaking!) problem was, turns out he did it incorrectly.  So now, I can not refund our son's lunch account at school, nor buy milk, or gas, pay the bills that are late, etc unless I scoop a little deeper to where I don't want to go, where I am afraid to go.  That sense of normalcy long gone, now I'm hoping for absence of sheer terror.

"He" is cavalier. The world is cavalier, though so many nooks where people who have experienced some aspect of divorce rise up, high enough to look at me with that mixture of pity and mild discomfort. "So sorry Ms. Xxxxxx-xxxxx," as they stumble over my now meaningless hyphenated name (emanating an identity long compromised), "but there s nothing we can do about the transfer..perhaps you can contact your...er..husband and ask him to resend the money?"  My stomach clenches because I so dont want to contact him again, to beg further action because I ant buy milk...because I jnow he just took his girlfriend on a fun across the country weekend trip, and then my kids to a fun "family" weekend away.

I'm left behind, doing, doing, the proverbial nuisance...with low self esteem issues. Are these issues of my own making? Or is it one of those, "its what you make it moments"?  Perhaps, because in truth,  I/we didnt stay at home those weekends, I went out and had fun.  But then, why (why, why like Taylor Swift laments), do I feel this?  Whats the magic formula to be well healed, beyond the crazy-making he is so callously and selfishly unaware/aware of making?  I do not plan to spend  years in this prison sentence experience. I am negotiating/struggling to take his power away, away, far away from me, no thank you very much but get the you-know-what away from me (why-why-why)...