I checked on my husband’s mental state on Thursday morning and he was okay, but pretty mad that his lawyer tossed around such huge numbers all year only to cave for a fraction of the amount at the end. It is baffling — but that’s lawyers for you.
Just as my husband should have been trying to earn an income while we were together, he also should have been trying to make money this last year. Maybe he did try, but it wasn’t apparent to me.
But I did tell him that I would have done the same thing at court under the circumstances and I don’t blame him for the decision he made.
I can tell that I am now going to begin the pain of missing him again, even though he doesn’t have immediate plans to do anything. How can he? He didn’t get enough fucking money! But I no longer have a reason to stay in touch except to make certain I get my furniture when he vacates the apartment.
I should start the divorce but emotionally I can’t handle it. If he pursued it, I’d sign, but I don’t feel like initiating it. Still taking baby steps.
I applied for four good jobs yesterday and have no idea if any of them will call me for an interview. I could live on my own if I got one of them, but I’m not holding my breath. I’ve applied for plenty over the last year that I was highly qualified for and did not even get an interview. Boy, it’s demoralizing. I haven’t had a job for over ten years, but before that I never had trouble getting them. It’s a whole new ballgame now.
I did ask my supervisor at the kids center if I could use her as a reference she said, “Sure!” So that’s good. And bless her heart she said she’d keep her ear to the ground about any openings. She’s barely 30 and she sees my worth. All I need is an interview to show potential employers that their impressions of what a 57 year old can do are wrong — I’m a better risk now employment-wise than I have ever been before.
I went to a local charity shop and I saw some lovely Japanese bowls and immediately I had deja vu because I have one of the same in storage. Or, I think I do. I don’t really know what I have in storage. At first I carried the bowls around the store with me as I contemplated buying them and then I had this image that I’d open my cupboard to see the four pretty bowls and I’d know that I only use one of them over and over and over. It hit me hard and made me so sad. I may never have a person to make a home for again.
Later I was reading jars of fancy jams at the grocery store and came across morello cherry and almost sobbed right there in the aisle. That was my husband’s favorite jam and I almost bought it! FUCK!
Bloody hell, I must fight my natural habit of becoming morose. I just hate being triggered like this. It all feels so suddenly so fresh all over again.
I wrote the above before I swam and when I got to the pool today my rage was horrific. I was really shocked at myself. All the lanes were full and two of them had slow meandering “swimmers” that didn’t have a care in the world. I ended up asking one of them if I could share her lane but my god every time I swam by her I wanted to splash her hair, which she somehow kept dry, and scream for her to fucking go to the deep pool if she’s just going to float around with her fucking waisty-floaty-belt for fuck’s sake.
Finally I saw an open lane and high tailed it, but my rage actually had me worried about what I might do and whether I might have a heart attack or stroke over it. I felt this intense anger and I felt like sobbing at the same time. As I swam I thought to myself, ‘Put that anger where it belongs. On the man who fucked you over and left you with nothing!’
And that’s fine, he does deserve my anger. But I also feel fucking sorry for him! And I miss him. Why? WHYYYY?
He never did anything to help support me. He used up my money all the while being very careful to never actually ask for it. He called me horrendous names that no one should be called let alone a spouse. He pulled a knife on me! He almost choked me! He insults my entire family! He triangulated me with his daughters. Then he left me at home every night for over two months while he went out nightly to meet another woman and fuck her. Then he kicked me out of the house because my “anxiety was too much for him.” Why am I wasting another moment on this man?
In a couple of weeks, I hope, his attorney will receive the money. He’ll write separate checks to my husband and I and when I get my hands on it I will try to no longer give a mother fucking shit about him and I’ll curse the day I ever let him into my house and my life.
And he’ll be left there scratching his fucking head wondering what got into me and why am I so crabby all of a sudden. After a fucking year of being apart — according to him I should be over it. We should be pals now.
This is the month. The one year mark is almost here. I wish I were further along emotionally, but it is what it is. I have not lived with him for a year. He is not my man. He is no longer my husband. He doesn’t care what happens to me except on the most superficial level. He doesn’t comprehend how much he’s harmed me. And he puts his cock in other women.
HE CAN GO FUCK HIMSELF.