Thursday, June 17, 2010

Urgle

I know, this is astonishingly long.

Executive Summary (TL;DR): Some details about my impending divorce and basically all I’m ever going to say about it.

On Friday, May 28, 2010, my wife of 20+ years told me she’d like to be done being married to me. For reasons I’ll get to in a moment, I wasn’t shocked to the core of my being, but it did catch me completely off guard as I didn’t expect when I finished out that week ahead of a long Memorial Day weekend that I’d be living in a hotel for three days and looking at apartments on Monday. Yeah, I was stunned, shocked and greatly saddened. (Side note: there is no conversation I’ve ever had with any woman that started, “Yes, let’s go for a walk. We need to talk.” that has ever ended well or will ever end well for me. There’s never been a happy ending at the end of any conversation that starts out like that as far as I can tell.)

People have asked me, “Jon, did you know this was going to happen?” (perhaps the subtext here is, “Are you just one of those dumb male types that doesn’t pay attention to any of the important details (like whether or not your wife is happy) that are swirling around him?”

Short answer: Nope
Longer answer: We had some issues about seven years ago and were separated then. Separated twice between 2002 and 2004 as a matter of fact. If you’re keeping count, our youngest daughter Ellis is seven years old now and yes, we got separated and then found out she was pregnant. My life at the time was essentially a rejected soap opera script. (That’s an even longer bloggy post, folks, and I won’t torture you with that whole saga.) So her telling me, “this isn’t working for me and I’d like to be done” that Friday evening wasn’t totally out of the blue, given our past, but I had zero clue she was about to drop that bomb on me.

People have also asked me, “Did she cheat on you?” and/or the extended dance re-mix, but delicately worded version of that question, “Did you cheat?” (the subtext being, of course, “Just admit you’re a skeevy man-whore who can’t even find his pants, never long keep them on, Jon.”

Short answer: Nope.
Longer answer: I’m about 99.9% sure she didn’t and I know I didn’t. Though I’ve been super sure about stuff before and ended up being insanely incorrect, so you never know. But she says there isn’t anyone else, and for a variety of reasons I absolutely believe her. (Also, if someone could direct me toward where they hold “skeevy man-ho” classes, I’ll be signing up for those as soon as possible. (Fine. Not really. They probably don’t let balding, bitter bearded dudes in those kinds of classes.))

“So what’s the deal, Deal?”

It basically all boils down to one thing: She doesn’t love me anymore. Rather than either continue to fake being happy or hide how unhappy she was, both of which she’d been doing for the past couple years; she decided to be honest with herself (and me) and end it. And I can respect that. Really. There wasn’t anything about me in particular that made her unhappy (I’m pretty easy to live with, though isn’t that the watch word of the high maintenance individual? “No, really, I’m suuuuuper easy to live with! I promise!” when in reality, that person has reached English sports car levels of upkeep.) But she didn’t have those “core” feelings of love/intimacy/emotional connectedness which would lead to true intimacy between us. We got along fine and probably likely will continue to get along. We rarely fought. (Side note, though this is a ginourmous topic in and of itself, I tend to see our lack of fighting as a symptom of just how broken our relationship was. For a variety of reasons neither of us were willing to show any kind of emotional vulnerability. If you get angry about something (justified or not), you have a passion about it. And as a couple we ended up being the equivalent of white bread, water and vanilla ice cream for dinner every night.) We lived our lives in a mass of non predatory self deception which came from both of us about how things really were. I was certainly a willing participant in that bit of self delusion for all those years. But the real thing is this: there isn’t anything I can do or say to make her love me again. (Nerd talk: I’m not in the “sudoers” file of her heart. :-/ ) And when I say intimacy, I mean an emotional connection, not just physical intimacy. In fact, all self modesty aside, for the past few years I think I’ve been a much better person/father/husband in general than I ever was in the past. Though Reha wouldn’t agree with this notion, I have to wonder if on some level she saw how fully committed I was to our relationship; which sat in stark contrast to how she felt and behaved toward me/us. Plus, even though she’s an attorney, she’s an astoundingly honest person (OH, SNAP!), so all this “living a lie” business she’d been doing through the years didn’t sit well with her. Again, I have to respect that as well. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it and having someone you’ve hung out with for 20+ years say straight to your face, “I just don’t love you anymore” is about as fun as puking up a box of nails, but I can wrap my head around the concept of not wanting to go through the empty motions of a marriage reasonably well.

“Have you tried counseling? Maybe that would help?”

Been there, done that. Many therapists over the years have probably put scores of their children through ivy league schools on what we’ve spent on counseling. If anything, I expect to get a call from one of their representatives, complaining that we’re just a bunch of quitters. “Dude, I was this close to paying off my boat! Are you sure you guys want to give up? Maybe just a couple more months?” So, yes, we’ve been down the marriage counseling road already.

In any case, it will all be over very soon, as we aren’t squabbling over our combined knick knacks and we both have the best interests at heart for our throng of children. (We have four: Carrie, 20; Lucas, 16; Jonah, 12; Ellis, 7). She officially filed for divorce last week and since we’d already hammered out the details, I’m not responding/disputing/fighting her divorce complaint which lays out all those details and so a judge will eventually sign her complaint as a bonafide court order in a couple weeks. Probably all be done by July 1. Possibly sooner, depending on how backlogged the court is right now.

It’s funny (not “ha-ha” funny, but weird funny), how surprisingly well I’ve been doing after completely falling apart the Friday she told me. I feel pretty good about things and my usual pessimistic skeptical outlook on life keeps thinking that the other shoe has to drop at some point. I even feel kind of guilty about how decent I feel. Perhaps it’s some flavor of survivor’s guilt. Taking a couple days to do nothing but sit in my underwear and think and weep and moan and scream out my car window on long drives in the mountains did a world of good. I think I got a lot of stuff out of my system the weekend after. I can actually see how this might end up being a great thing in my life. A new beginning and all that. Of course, there will be ups and downs in all of it (holy cliché alert, Batman!), but it’s all going to be OK, I believe. And in the interest of keeping the cliché machine primed, I’m counting on the old adage “time heals all wounds” to be true. At least, it better be true. If it isn’t I’m going to hunt down my 8th grade English teacher and give her a wedgie the likes of which the world has never seen.

Are you angry? Hurt? Upset? Wandering the streets in a fog in your underwear?

Short Answer: No.
Longer answer: Technically, I wasn’t wearing underwear that night I went a-wandering. I roll buck nekkid when I wander the city streets aimlessly. Of course, I’ve had a few moments where I’ve gotten angry or upset, but I have to say, I’m feeling remarkably good for someone at the tail end of a failed marriage and top end of a broken heart. I’m not weepy or mopey. I get up, hang out with the kids as much as possible and generally feel like this isn’t the end of my life. (Ask me how I was during our initial breakup in 2002, for example; the contrast is startling, trust me.) Mostly, I’m upset with myself, for the huge bit of self-deception I allowed myself to indulge in over the years. Certainly I wasn’t all that happy with how things had been, either, but I let myself believe that things were either “OK” or would eventually get better if I just kept at it. So rather than angry, I tend to feel particularly foolish about being a giant sappy fool in love who put himself out there emotionally and it all crumbled into dust. In time I’m sure all the things I’m sad and grumpy about will matter less and less, until they just seem like crap I can’t even believe I ever got myself worked up over. The reality I’m coming to understand is that in the long run, because of the decision she made about our failed marriage, I’ll be much happier, because I also won’t be living a lie. It’s astonishing to me that I can even think that, never long believe it, but there you go. And, though it may not seem possible for me to type what I’m about to say; her deciding finally to be honest with how she feels (or lack of feelings) about me is ultimately worthy of both my respect and admiration. It took an enormous amount of self-reflection and courage for her to come to that conclusion. I do respect her integrity for coming to a conclusion about the reality of our situation. I’m not sure I ever would have “woken up” to the painful reality of how broken we were as a couple. Though my excuse is that I was in love with her something fierce, so I just couldn’t let go of the hope that things might eventually change for the better. People in love do seriously dumb things, like pretend their unfulfilling, shallow, and hollow lives are something other than what they are. It’s also possible I’m not yet that guy who can face reality on reality’s term. Could be that, too.

Here comes the sappy part. It’s a heavily edited bit of a “thank you” note I wrote to my soon to be ex-spouse a few days ago. Turn away if you are prone to nausea.

In the long run, I will be eternally grateful for having spent the last twenty some odd years attached to her. Reha is an amazing person and I feel lucky to have been with her as long as I was. In many ways I am a better man, a better father and just plain a better human being because of her. Possibly, if I’d listened to her more often, I’d be an even better person, but I guess I just have to bear that cross. I know that probably makes me sound a bit like a forlorn sap, but it’s likely true.

Lest anyone judge her harshly (since you will likely only ever get my side of the story), I feel the need to defend her a little bit, even though she essentially ripped out my heart and mercilessly stomped all over it until the pieces were unrecognizable as having ever been heart-y. (Heh. Yeah, I may be biased). Though she’s the one driving the divorce engine, the train wreck of our marriage isn’t her fault either. She spent enormous amounts of energy and time trying re-fall in love with me several times throughout the course of our marriage. I believe she gave it her all and I like to think if she could change how she feels (or, in this case, what she doesn’t feel), she likely would. I end up bearing her no ill will whatsoever. To say she was a trooper during our twenty year stint is possibly the largest understatement I could ever make. I know this life wasn’t the life she would have chosen for herself (don’t get me started on what I moron I was the first couple years), and I’m sorry for all the things I did that didn’t make her life any easier. I wish with all my heart that I could erase the noxious parts, flip a switch and make it all better. Or even just be there and gradually make it all better over time. And not just because I’m selfish moonstruck love idiot and would like to continue to be her spouse if that were possible, but because she’s a person who deserves true happiness in life. I can sincerely say that I hopes she finds it. (Though right now, I’m weak enough and enough of a giant selfish dork that I hope I find true happiness before her! Honesty, whee!)

Finally, I’d like to thank her from the bottom of my heart for being the mother of my children. Holy crap, but we have amazing children. I love them more than I could have ever thought possible. And I have to say, as amazing as they are, they wouldn’t be nearly so delightful and likely become the astounding adults they’ll become if it weren’t for her. She loves our children, probably more than she loves herself; and given that she partially stayed with me all those years because of the children seems to me like prima facie evidence of just how much she cares about them. Though obviously “loving your kids” is technically a part of the job description of a mother, she fits that role so well, so naturally and with such aplomb, that it’s a thing of beauty to behold. Is our marriage a failure? Technically, sure. We’re about to be single again. Some people might see it that way, but the way I see it, we brought four amazing humans into the world. That we have done that means that even though she and I aren’t going to work out in the end, I think we can consider the product of that relationship to be the pinnacle of success.

Thanks for the good times and the bad times, Reha. Of course I wish we’d had more good times, but I think even the bad times were things I needed to have in my life. Am I sad that we won’t have twenty more years to try and make it? Yes. But I don’t regret or think wasted the time I spent with her. On the contrary, I’ll always be grateful to have been with her.

No, you shut up. I’m not crying. Those are tears of joy at all the hot wimmens I’m about to get all up in my bizness.

Wait! Stop snickering! IT COULD HAPPEN! I FOUND A “HOW TO BECOME A SKEEVY MAN-HO” COURSE ON THE INTERNET!

And with that, I start the next chapter in my life, “Bitter Bearded Balding Guy Who Eventually Befriends a Lot of Cats”

Jon scribbled this mess on 06/17/10 at 02:10 PM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

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