Memory Lane

It’s Wednesday and I’m a bit sore. Two weeks off of swimming and my neck, shoulders, and torso are achey. I remember when I first began to swim in November. I was at the peak of the pain of separation and getting to the pool to swim each day was all that kept me alive. And every night I was in agony from sore muscles. I probably should have eased up a bit, but I just couldn’t.

I don’t mind the soreness. It reminds me that I had accomplished something. It reminds me that even if I don’t keep losing weight, this swimming shit is doing me a world of good.

And it did feel very, very good to be back in the water on Monday and Tuesday and I’m eager to go again today. This time off has shown me that exercise must be a part of my daily life, no matter what sort it is.

I hope I can keep up with the swimming; it does have some downsides such as how the chlorine affects your skin or how the water affects your ears. You know I still have a problem understanding when to use “effects” or “affects.” I can’t be bothered to see if I guessed right.

I’ve gained weight. I don’t know how much. My clothes don’t feel right. I don’t know how I’ll get the upper hand on this, but I will. I simply do not want to be any bigger than I am now. I still want to lose at least twenty more pounds, but if I can’t lose, I need to NOT GAIN. I will figure this out. Weighing less feels better, that’s all there is to it.

And at least the daily swim helps in that regard somewhat. I’d like to walk more. I’d love to eventually run a 5k, but I don’t see it happening with my bad knees. But I will say one thing for swimming over walking or running: the upper body workout is phenomenal. It makes one feel powerful.

If I had some extra dosh I’d take a kickboxing class, I think I’d like that as well.

I actually called my husband yesterday because I had a telephone consultation with an attorney the day before and it’s going to cost $5,000 to hire him to protect that settlement money for me and give me a divorce and my god that’s a lot of money to me.

He said he didn’t know what he could say or do to help me to believe him that he will split his settlement money with me as we have already discussed. I told him I wanted to believe him, but that I feel I don’t really know him. The man I thought I knew would have never treated me this way. And I added that “you’re not remorseful and you actually blame my nerves for the end of our marriage and that’s just wrong.”

He said he was remorseful. We had a sort of moment of semi-tenderness and understanding. He offered a solution which is to ask his attorney to be our mediator for our divorce since we agree on the terms and then he can write up a more formal agreement regarding the settlement. I sent an email asking the attorney if he could do that and his response was “I can’t be your mediator.” Short but sweet. I guess it’s probably a conflict of interest so I’m not surprised.

My parents feel it would be a shame for me to go into $5,000 debt and then find out there is no case and no money to be handed out. They are highly suspicious that any money can come from my association with this man they hate.

I am almost certain there will be money, but how much is a complete unknown. And what I will do with it is a complete unknown. I think I’ve had six solid ideas in the last six months and now none of them sound promising. I’m filled with doubts. It would be easier if I could just get hired somewhere and then I could invest the settlement money. Damn.

I’ll tell you one thing, this life in limbo is awful. I lived in limbo with my husband for years. We were always stuck somewhere for one reason or another waiting for red tape or something else — we were always in limbo. I am fucking sick of it. I want to DO.

He told me yesterday that his father is “dying.” I’ve heard that now for a couple of years. Last year he was “completely recovered” and now he’s “dying” again. I can’t feel much for him; he’s a deceitful, dreadful excuse for a human being. Twice he promised my husband a job and business in London and twice I moved us there only to have him almost immediately renege. He cost me personally many thousands of dollars.

On our last trip to England, when he again pulled the rug out before we could even rise to the occasion and run a business for him, I actually went to the restaurant he opened in secret (yes, he and the family kept it a secret from my husband and I, two able bodied and savvy people who came to London to work.) I walked in there and asked if I could speak to him which I have never done. I’ve always stayed in the background with him. I had my iPad with me and unbeknownst to him, I recorded the conversation and let me tell you, it’s CHILLING. Here I’ve never had a cross word with the man (or really any sort of word with him) and I’m simply asking him to tell me that he does not want to give my husband the chance he promised him. I just wanted to hear it from his lips so we can move on with our lives.

He said to me something like, “You think you can come in here as this powerful American woman and tell me what to do?” I was so utterly floored. I wasn’t telling anyone what to do. I needed to know, because if he had made up his mind that he’d never include us then we needed to leave London. He said, “Who would run the business?” I said “We would.” He said, “Who?” And I repeated, “We would. ____ and I together would run it together.” I could see then, that he thought I’d feel as though the business was partly mine and he could not have that. No way. I said, “I don’t want to own it. I just want to help run it. I have a lot to offer. You don’t even have to pay me.” He was sickening. Such misogyny I have never seen in my life. But I should not have been surprised considering he’s from the Middle East.

I left that restaurant, which he of course lost some months later after sinking a small fortune into, and walked on shaking legs in the rain to the car where my husband waited. He hadn’t asked me to go. I had asked him if I could at least try to talk to his father before we packed up and moved again with the last few thousand dollars I had to my name. I was numb. If he had involved us, as he promised, I’d still be living in London and I’d be running a restaurant.

There’s some odd hatred between father and son going on. His mom was 18 when she gave birth to my husband and her husband was ten or so years older than her. She gave all of her attention to her son and the father was shoved aside. I think because of that he has terrible resentment towards his own son. And I’d agree that the bond between my husband and his mother is at times a bit odd. They behave more like a bickering husband and wife, not mother and son. But that makes sense, she’s virtually raised his daughters for him.

They are from another culture, so I can’t fault them. I just don’t understand them.

But now dad is being sued by a private party and the government is coming at him for back taxes. It was all bound to catch up with him and it has. I imagine they’ll have to sell their house just to get out from under that, but then again England is pretty amazing as far as not allowing people to lose their homes for various reasons. So we’ll see. But they are in a very bad financial state, nevertheless.

Interestingly, I have only felt a little melancholy since I spoke to my husband. I think the difference is when I speak to him about the case or something of importance, I handle it. But when he just wants to call and chitchat like we’re old pals, I don’t handle it well. That makes sense.

I think I’m going to have to decide to believe him and take him at his word. Even if I sold the last two or three pieces of gold jewelry I have left, I doubt I’d raise even $3,000 and then I will have no emergency fall back money, which is what that jewelry has come to mean to me. I am going to hang on to it a bit longer.

Today is a new day. I will swim. I will eat healthy. I will nourish my mind.






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