Dissolution Granted

So today, just this morning, the dissolution was granted.

It was a mess of paperwork that I really got lucky on this morning, having brought way more copies than I thought I needed of various things - and hitting it right on the nose.

Slightly awkwardsauce sitting in the waiting hall for the magistrate to call us in. Then 10 minutes of "do you agree?" "do you agree?" and she complimented us on how we had made it through the system without help and wished everyone was as well-organized and mild-mannered as we were.

It was a good feeling, but then we said our goodbyes and crossed the street and ...lost? The leftover chains had dropped, the remaining weight off my shoulders, but there I was on a thin, stone path both sides bottomless water, all covered in fog, my bearings lost.

Still kind of feel like that now, a few hours later. Not scared, but not sure which direction to go. I dropped my daughter off at college last Thursday, dropped my marriage today. Things feel ...hollow right now. Happy the clutter is gone but curious about what to do with the space.

Good news is I suppose I worried this blog would dissipate after today, and I'm quickly realizing today easily could have been the very first post.

Xmas Terrors

Little late on the scene here, but Christmas was part great fam fun and part nightmare.

The fun part is easy: great time with family.

The nightmare part, not so much. MS was pretty busy with work and decided she was staying in town as Mini and I headed to Cleveland. Since Mini wasn't able to drive her grandmother, her aunt's Xmas was cancelled. Shitty on all points.

Mini was livid and totally shut down during the Xmas time. I went out myself to bring her grandmother to feast with my own fam by invitation, and if I hadn't asked Mini to take her Grandmother's coat, she wouldn't have said five words to her throughout the evening.

WTF?

I know she was pissed about the circumstances, but don't be shitty to your own grandmother by completely ignoring her during the gathering. Right?

I don't get mad. I deal with things as they come. But this snub made me so angry it about brought me to tears during the night. I love Mini and I love grandma, and I could not possibly fathom the disregard she showed her during the night.

The night was fine, grandma was okay and enjoyed it. But Mini.... And when I asked her about it, she played it off like she did nothing wrong.

We raised her better.

I Was Back in the House This Weekend

Got to babysit the dog (and Mini) in the ol' house this past weekend while MS was out of town. So strange. Scribbled this down:

No less than three vases of flowers from Dude to MS litter the living and dining room areas. A list in his handwriting hangs on the fridge of things that need to be done to fix up the house. Bicycling and fitness magazines have replaced Scientific American and Game Informer in the basket on top of the toilet tank.

But I'm here for Mini. I'm here for the dog. MS is out of town, Dog doesn't like my place (she begins howling in a trip to take out the garbage), and we don't trust Mini in an empty house (there was a boob hickey incident trigger for that). So I'm here, in this home that was once mine, in a home that now feels like I'm visiting my parents. At least that's how I make it make sense to my brain.

Almost everything is familiar, but so, so distant. Empty areas abound. Dude's stuff punctuates certain places, like the toothbrush holder. The library is still empty of my desk and presence, but there is his bike. I open the fridge to a mysterious stock.

I wander in a foreign land, a place once my own home, never again.

It Was a Bad Weekend

I spent this past weekend mostly sleeping, mostly resting. Mini was with MS since she's gone during the week with work currently. I fought off insomnia with alcohol and movies and generally stayed up until almost dawn and slept until at least 4pm, though that was mostly waking by noon and curling up in anxiety for hours. I dragged myself out of apathy, messed around on the internet, went to the bar for a few drinks, and went back home with to-go food.

I know this is untenable.

This week, I'm working on forcing myself up, getting a normal schedule in order, and getting out to the apartment gym at least once.

I'll let you know how I've done.

Every day is different. Some days are bad. And I rely on the fact that when they are, the next will be better. Most are.

I'll take it.

The Dating Game - in Reverse

I've kept some of it back, something that will probably aid in a fuller understanding of the situation as a whole. Just kind of hurts to hash through. But here it goes.

MS is dating. She's been dating for several months. She met Dude on St. Pat's and it grew (very slowly at first) from there. For the two months before I moved out, she was a ghost: she's show up at the house 2-3 times a week, sometimes for dinner and then to disappear, sometimes for a quick shower in the morning. My (and Mini's) pleas for communication - even a text - about when she'd be there were often ignored.

Then I moved out end of June - and MS is there now, but much of the time, so is Dude.

Meaning: Mini has been missing her mom for a long time. The absences were brief at first and peaked right before I moved, and Mini's connection with her mother has been waning along with it. Then I go away and while MS is back in person, Mini still misses her - because Dude is there: at the house, during activities - and she doesn't really like him (combo of personality clash, perception of paternal replacement, and usurping MS's time). And all she wants is to spend time with MS without him.

MS is, understandably, a little defensive about it in saying that she wasn't gone that often and that Mini's schedule is as much to blame and Dude's not around that much ...all the way to a frustrated "I'm paying the mortgage and I'll invite who I want in this house."

And I don't know how to tell her to back up a minute, that our daughter's only 17, and sometimes she just wants her mommy. Though I'm working it out in my head. I hope time or my words will start a reconciliation between the two because right now it's a little tense: MS is put off by Mini's distance, frustrated with me because I'm always in good graces, and Mini is slowly sliding towards living with me most of the time.


Oh, and how am I doing with my wife seriously dating some guy? At first I was pissed about it, but in reality I can't control what MS does, even if it's mildly detrimental to our daughter. I've met him a handful of times, and I'm not a fan, though I'm sure I'm a little biased on the subject. My blink reaction is we'll never be buds based on personality, and I'm conflicted about the integrity of a man who dates a married woman, despite the circumstances. Also, I worry about MS, that she jumping in to something just to jump into something and will end up badly stung on this rebound.

It still hurts. She's taken him to two weddings where we had common friends - and I therefore did not attend. Basically, I've rationalized it enough so I'm not constantly thinking about it, but every so often it'll hit me like a lightning bolt. And for a little while it really, really sucks.

It Was a Good Week

During this process of splitting and finding my own way, I've realized that I'm either all in or all out. This last couple days have been rough days for me, and before I spill the good stuff starting tomorrow, I'd like to blow out some success.

Last week, I finally got my car back. As I've discussed before, that was a huge missing piece for me. In the trunk of that car were the last five boxes of books. I picked up a book case last week and this past weekend, by books were distributed between that case and my desk and the boxes were broken down and I feel ...more complete.

Here's my joy:



Tomorrow starts the hard tellings...

Apathy

In the last few days, I've found myself a new friend: Apathy.

MS and Mini are out of town right now and with nothing or no one really checking on me, I'm finding myself a little apathetic.

It's not depression. I've already been through that bit and overwhelmed by it to the need for saving and being pulled out of my rut. I'm feeding myself and my cat and keeping the apartment (while still in progress) in order and clean.

But twice in as many weeks, I've opted to sleep for over twelve hours. When I got up, I wasn't sad or angry, just despondent. Who cares? What do I really have to do? I made it up to 15 hours this past weekend.

But I suppose because I recognize it, I'll be okay.

My focus for the next few days is to put together a schedule that includes some sort of activity, a little working out as it were, whether in the apartment gym or just rolling around on my bike.

I think if I can get into that window, I can start truly feeling better about myself, and, hence, truly learning how to love myself.

Because that's still on the "to do" list.

Abandonment

And at some point, you feel abandonment.

I don't have many friends in general (because I'm generally introverted), but this isn't about being secluded or excluded, this is about being ignored.

For the last week, I've been trying to get MS on the phone with me. A whole week. And she either ignores my texts or says she'll call but then gets too busy. All I'm trying to do is look at our list of things we need to accomplish to move on and discuss the different aspects of our daughter's life. And...nothing.

She told me to call her this evening. I just left her a voicemail.

And MiniShambles isn't any better, doing her own thing, not necessarily replying to anything.

I feel abandoned. The only people I'm directly linked to in this end-of-marriage and I can't get a steady line of communication going.

I know everything'll work out, but it borders on disrespect--


Okay, sorry, but to hell with that post. Much better story next one as I spent last night in the hospital.

(spoiler: everyone's alive, but almost wasn't)

Shopping: The Bane and Joy

In my last post, I made note of how frightening it is for me moving out on my own, specifically because of turning around every few minutes to find something missing. I'm a typical man in some ways and sometimes it's "Eh, what date was that birthday? -- oh, yeah," or it's losing the immediacy of that quick wit or share an in-joke with MiniShambles. And sometimes it's grabbing that can of black beans from the cabinet and almost losing your shit because it suddenly dawns on you that YOU NO LONGER OWN A CAN OPENER. Fuck.

So you go shopping to get that can opener. And it's miserable. I've been 4 times "catch-up" shopping since I moved in: 2 Targets, one Kroger (many more of those to come - do you know how many spices I had?), and one Home Depot. And in every one of those instances, I was flooded with the absence, and each time I got near the end of my list and that last item was simply not where should be - or I was just getting frantic - and the anxiety meter welled up along with my eyes and I just wanted to push my cart into the nearest end-cap, scream at the top of my lungs, drop to my knees, and sob quietly for a while. Reality as it is, I held it together, checked out, and held the sobbing for home.

Shopping when you're trying to reconstruct a life can be overwhelming because you're surrounded by absence, every piece is a hole in your life, a reminder of how intertwined you once were with another person, of the emptiness that exists now. But it's not without redemption. Every item you pick up, little things that will allow you to function, is a regeneration, a work towards completion. Granted, you may not realize that until after an in-store near-meltdown and some back-home sobbing, but it's better. And with those trips, as hard as they were, I got a little bit better. I know it's just stuff and "good" is a ways off, but for right now, I can deal with better.

I have to.


Oh, and I did get that can opener, and because it was never allowed in the house due to a solid, lingering aversion tied to MS's morning sickness years ago, it was the best can of Spaghetti-O's I've ever had.

Weekend of the 4th: Gathering Myself

I didn't do much of anything the weekend of the 4th, mostly because MS stuck me with the dog, but also because I was desperate for alone time. And I got it - with a dog who had reverted to paranoid puppyhood: she's be howling and barking even during a brief trip down to the dumpster. At the house, she's become very chill.

But the time I did get I enjoyed; it was just quiet "me" time, watching some TV, goofing off on the internet, catching up on some books.

I also had off today, just me and the cat, doing some final unpacking (though still books to figure out), so tomorrow's challenge: getting back to work.

I keep using the phrase "finding the new normal," but I don't think there is one, and that's frightening. Everywhere I look, there's something missing, and that's terrifying -- but more on that tomorrow.

I made it through the holiday and the worst I got was numb apathy / disconnection - not a hint of depression. And that's a step in the right direction.

Right?

Moving in and Collapsing

As opposed to my last post, I am no longer numb. Today I moved into my new apartment and I am fragile, a welling bubble of emotion that is contained by a thin, cracking glass dome.

And I know by typing this, I will shatter. It will be brief and I will pull it together, but I need to get this out of me right now.

So today we moved me. MS was there, along with my folks and my daughter, her boyfriend and bestie. And it went on without a hitch. I had to scramble for a van, but we were done moving in about three hours.

After that, my folks stuck around and we went to Target and they helped me along ridiculously kindly, tossing in a huge heap of what I needed as a new startup like I was an 18-year-old moving out for the first time.

What struck me was that the move - even with the scramble to find a truck and the picking up of my daughter's boyfriend and the physical exhaustion of up an down and stairs - was actually way easier than my parents taking me shopping (they wanted to put in on my new couch but I'd already bought it, so they offered a necessities trip to Target instead).

At first I figured my thoughts and feelings of borderline breaking down in the middle of Target were just me be being worn: all the physical and emotional exhaustion after moving out of my own house. But I think it was something more.

If you do moving right, it's procedural, systematic. And in my case, it's just moving my stuff from one place to another locally: load up, drive, load out. There is comfort in comfortable things, even if it's just something in a box you can't even identify without opening it, and with something like a bed, it's a swaddling wonder of ease in familiar.

But shopping, shopping after a split sucks; you're just shopping, sure, but you're buying all these items that you need to restart your life - a spatula, pots, and condiments and Swiffers, all these items that remind you with every pickup that it's gone. Forever. You are picking up pieces that have been lost, rebuilding something built and now missing, a structure with half its bricks missing.

And somehow I just wrote that and didn't lose it, though I've been on the cusp all day. Perhaps I passed it buy like on a carousel and I'll be back. Perhaps I'm just too tired to deconstruct tonight. Or, perhaps, the simple act of writing this depressurized the dome.

I still expect it and will for months and know it will happen more than once, but I think for tonight I'm okay to grab a beer and put on Netflix and breathe.

Always: breathe.