Detour off the High Road

I admit that lately I've been giving myself some small pats on the back. Aren't I good that I haven't bad mouthed my ex? How I've been restrained and not posted anything inappropriate on Facebook. How I've managed to not let slip to the kids that daddy has a new 'special friend'.

But today I made a little slip. The vulgar tongue came out.

Why are some days easier than others? I know that's part of the journey, and the harder days make you appreciate the good days even more (insert sunset photo here to turn this sentence into a meme). While I sit here at the end of the day, watching the wonderful QI with Stephen Fry and having a glass or three of white wine, I realise there were a series of triggers today....
Seeing the back of her at the gym this morning.
Then wondering how I would react if I actually bumped into her at the gym.
Thinking about him being with her in bed at night while I'm in bed alone/nursing sick baby/being kicked in the back by one of my lovely sons who keeps crawling into bed at midnight.
Missing the smell of the back of his neck and the feel of his arms.

Now don't get me wrong on the last sentence. I don't miss him per se, but today I missed the comfort of someone dear. That wonderful combination of someone that you discuss dreams with, the ordinary trivialities of life with, of being comfortable passing wind in front of, but still have great (albeit very occasional) sex. Yeh, that last sentence won't be turned into a meme anytime soon...

So I was feeling a little flat today, as we all do from time to time for no real reason. He came around after work to mow the lawns. (side note - yes it is good that he mows the lawns. But it's also in his interest so our back yard doesn't turn into a jungle before we sell the house later in the year). And again, like yesterday, I found it hard to look him in the eye. I didn't even want him in the house, which funnily enough is probably one of the first times since our separation I felt this. But our eldest wanted him to stay for dinner, so he did and I pushed aside the pain and acted 'normal' - back by popular demand!

In snatched moments away from the kids, I made it clear how upset I was feeling today, and that she certainly has some balls still going to the gym knowing I also go there. Yes P, I know it's her gym, but isn't it enough that she has helped to split this family up and is now sleeping with you, but that she can't stop going to my gym? Has she no class? I also mentioned that I can't wait for the day he tells his parents how quickly he had taken up with her after he left me. I know they will be devastated even more about our separation when they hear this, and P knows that too. I don't want them to be upset again because I love them dearly, but perversely I want them to feel upset again towards their beloved son.

After he left I called him up and let more clangers fly. This is not the behaviour I want to display, but I gave myself a leave pass given my good behaviour. So I called him up. Swore like a sailor. Asked if he ever felt guilty about being in her bed when I was home with our kids. That he watched me labouring with our third child, knowing he was about to leave me. Also inserted lots of expletives beginning with the letters F and C.

So I accused. Ranted. Swore. I heard the pain and hurt in my voice. Repeated that I had lost trust in him and a lot of respect to. That I believed in karma and at some point he would get his. That yes, I know I will be a better person out of this, and yes I know the circumstances could be a lot worse, but this situation is fucked and painful and the cold hard facts do not reflect well on him at all. And true to form, he listened, bit his tongue and took it in.

I spat at him, that of the two of us, I was actually the braver one. I after all had raised that there were problems in our marriage about two months before I gave birth. He didn't want to work on it or talk about it, because as we know now, he had some fresh pussy to go to. (Yes, I said that-see how angry I was!) Where as he didn't raise that there were problems during our marriage, and instead waited until I inadvertently opened the door, so he could leave and go to her. What a bloody coward. It's at times like this I remind myself how noble he was for not leaving me while I was pregnant. That he stayed with me, even though he pulled away from me whenever I went to touch him. That he made even less eye contact with me. That while I was labouring, he could barely sit further enough away.

I spat at him that one of the good things to come out of this separation, is that he will have to actually man up and be a more involved dad. That he can't rely on me to play with the kids, oversee their homework, always be the one to bathe them and put them to bed and get them ready in the morning. That when he has them he will have to do this and more. That he can't sleep in while I get up early, morning after morning, despite my lack of sleep and that I too had a full time paid job to go to. That on his birthday, I almost passed out when I saw him playing cricket with our eldest outside, albeit for about 10 minutes.

I hate that feeling of hurt. That sound of hurt. I cringe now thinking about it, but golly it felt good at the time.

So tonight I took that detour off the high road. I'm sure tomorrow I'll get back en route. Pun not intended.

Happy Birthday to you!

This morning I baked a chocolate and coconut slice, roasted a chook and veggies, made a salad, and helped the kids make a birthday card.

The card was clearly signed from the three children. We made it clear that our eldest had chosen the presents from Target. There was nothing from me, no name on a card. Oh, except for the lunch and a hollow 'happy birthday' as he arrived.

A good friend asked me last night why I would bother doing anything for his birthday. Which is a bloody fair question.

I had wrestled with it for a little while in the last couple of weeks, but I knew it was right that I do something. Mainly for the kids. I didn't want to do anything in public with him, but by it being on my ground I could feel reasonably ok about it.

It went well. As well as a birthday lunch for your recent ex can go. I tried my best with the chit chat, mindful that the kids were near and trying not to remember that while I'm nursing an unsettled baby whose currently vomiting at night and feverish, that he's spending his nights in someone else's bed. But I digress...

I can't work out what I feel about him. It often changes, and I'm accepting that it's going to continue for a while. Sometimes I think it comes close to extreme dislike (I think hate is a very harsh word reserved for cockroaches and mosquitos. Insert your own disparaging comment here), but I think is more like Nothing with a Tinge of Disdain. I could barely bring myself to make eye contact with him today. It normally really bugs me when people talk to you and don't make eye contact.

He was genuinely appreciative of the lunch. Our three year old insisted on getting out the candles and putting one on the cake along with a Happy Birthday sign. I sang Happy Birthday with somewhat reserved enthusiasm with the kids.

I was pleased with myself that I managed to bit my tongue a fair bit today. Until after he blew out his birthday candle and our eldest asked if he made a wish. Our son continued "did you wish for a wonderful family" - I'm still trying to work out what he meant by that - but under my breath I said to my ex "there's no need for you to make a wish because it already came true for you". Eek. But yeh, it did feel a little good too.

I'm so the ex-wife you want to have!

If I do say so myself. And in no particular order, here's why:

What I sometimes fantasised about doing What I actually did ·    Posting on FB my (sarcastic) congratulations to my ex in meeting his soul mate (insert name here), for all our mutual friends to see. ·    Bit my tongue. Kept my anger/pain/upset/honest thoughts and feelings to a trusted small circle. ·    Cut up his clothing ·    Scratch his extensive collection of CDs and DVDs ·    Rip random pages out of his books ·    Ripped off some buttons from some good shirts and jackets. ·    Answering my eldest son’s question of “why did you and daddy separate”, with “ask your father, it was his idea”. ·    Calmly explained that we still cared for each other but not like we used to at the beginning of our relationship, and that we want to continue being good friends for the rest of our lives and not end up disliking each other. ·    Give her a piece of my mind when I saw her at the gym ·    Worked out even harder. Then proceeded to send nasty texts to my ex about her. Think the lines “I could easily snap her” and “typical, she’s the kind of person who wears make up and jewellery at the gym” were among some of the gems. (note, I really don’t judge you if you wear make up and jewellery to the gym. Unless you are her, and then I will judge her for pretty much anything!) ·      Answering questions from friends/colleagues/acquaintances about the separation with details such as “he didn’t want to work on our marriage” or “he met his soul mate”. ·    Was honest about how I was feeling, but didn’t go into gory detail, or say anything I would regret a little later on.

And now I've given myself a pat on the back, I should explain - it wasn't easy. It was bloody hard. Hard biting my tongue. Hard sometimes fighting back the tears. Hard to word my sentences so I would answer the questions, tastefully. Hard to know when to seek out company (which I find hard anyway) and when to be by myself.

And I'm glad I was able to. Sure I had my moments when I totally lost my shite, but I was either by myself, with a dear trusted friend, or with my ex. And now, a couple of months on I can hold my head up and be proud of how I handled myself.

Now don't get me wrong - I'm not going to judge anyone for how they process this kind of grief. But I   know I wanted to minimise the pain for the kids and myself. I started to realise that by continuing to hit out at my ex and hold onto the pain, I was only hurting myself. It wasn't going to change what happened, stop him seeing her or make me feel any better. It's been a tough couple of months, but on the whole I'm in a much better place than I was in the beginning and have learned so much about myself. Most importantly - how strong I actually am! We have no idea of what we are made of until we are tested, and this was my biggest test to date. And if I had held onto the pain, I wouldn't have gone on this journey.

But the other ex - her husband - is reacting like a lot of people would. He's hurting. From what I hear he's saying all sorts of hurtful and inappropriate things around town, to his friends and family, and worse, to their young kids. He hasn't called me in a while, but he did send me a text after midnight a couple of nights ago. And I can really feel the pain he is in. But I can also see he is not accepting the reality of the situation, and is actually making it worse by making things up to make him feel better, when all it's going to do is make it harder for him to get through this. But that's his journey.

So yes, I can give myself a pat on the back and tell myself "I'm so the ex-wife you want to have!", because on the whole I've helped this separation be a lot less painful and messy than it could have been. But more importantly I'm going to give myself a pat on the back and remind myself "I'm so going to be a better and stronger person, because that's what I deserve!"

And they are words I will need to keep reminding myself, as the new milestones come up. We survived Christmas and our anniversary, then this weekend comes his birthday. I will be going back to work soon, so I will be seeing him at work, plus there will be other work colleagues to deal with over time. There'll be more chances of seeing him down the street, and ultimately having her more present in my life and the children's life. But I'll just need to take those milestones one step at a time.