I awaken from this scary dream where I had been kidnapped and forced to take a hostage while I desperately try to escape; unsure as to where I am, having been drugged and brought to an unknown location (a ship)?
My reality merges in, as I feel the breath of my sleeping daughter on my arm. She has crawled in again into bed with me. My sisters dog, whom I am baby-sitting while she is away, groans in his sleep, legs thrashing. He is in his own thick dream slumber.
Why do I feel so alone when I am not? I read an article online yesterday, about 10 years old yet still oddly current I think, about how divorced women tend to be unable to find post-divorce partners. Men, on the other hand, appear to have a large selection pool of younger women waiting for them. Apparently it is a numbers game, because most older men die out sooner or are still married, and that is only exacerbated as one gets older. At 51, did I think I was an old hag? No, I did not- despite the nasty comments left lingering in the air, those particular molecules had not passed through our smoke, he being older than I.
I lament that loss, as I feel denied my happily ever-after story. I had had expectations of a forever faithful and loving partner; and to this I was denied. But the truth is, I don't want my exhusband anymore, not as the man that he has become. He is perceived as a "prince" by his sister, or so it appears from her facebook site. And I guess that is not surprising, though my hushed mouth and mind argues the unfairness of that point. A man who devastated me, and mortally wounded our lifetime of commitment, falling short by opting to take on the easy and unaccountable "out". I want karma to bite him in the ass, except when I don't.
Tired of that tirade, I prefer to move forward, as my ever blunt sister would (and has said, about two years ago), "He's done." So am I. I will let my lawyer pursue legal recourse, let her "do her thing", and I also must let go of the possibility that I will lose. To not care anymore about him, and I am there. To NOT release him (or give up), at the same time, his accountability of fiscal responsibility to his children AND TO ME. Though the latter he has adamently and vocally refused to accept.
Tough nuggets. Being a SAHM for 13 years, and working non-benefits part time jobs (three actually) so I could be around for the kids more than deserves his financial support, it requires redemption. Otherwise, I am going to continue scrambling. And that is the source of my fear, that feeling of having been taken hostage. A needle held to my throat, harsh voiced men surrounding me to thrust angry and demoralizing behavior on me; trapped.
My wakeup call is figuratively and literally this: I need to AND WILL take care of my business. To reduce my debt, while taking care of the needs of my house, my car, my kids, and me. Only now it will be accomplished with my input, and my input alone (well with requested input from the kids). And the support team I have been blessed to amass. They are my support; I am theirs.
And man, that sucks. Not being part of my original gameplan, this tough-as-nails attitude sprung from survival instincts I never knew I had. Trying to keep the gentle thought and non-angry personality I prefer to embody as an individual. But the truth is:
I am happy. Truly and authentically happy.
Awaking from that dream, I realize that anger is not the issue; disappointment, sadness, bewilderment-- all that after almost a lifetime with him. Yes.
I am left with the task of re-defining who I am. Being a source of disappointment to another (despite the "pick me" dance I swam into into).... Not being the "party" girl he wanted, or the success story I wanted, the childhood feeling of not having met up to standards relived. Its okay, its okay. These residual/non-residual dreams of anxiety are normal, I tell myself. Shhhh it is okay. Hush now, and be kind.
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