Because you cheated: It's a Pity-Party!

The last month has been teary and rough emotionally. I worry sometimes that I am slipping back into depression, but I don’t think that is what is going on. I think I am moving into a different phase of grieving that I wasn’t expecting after a few months of doing really well. I still have lots of great days, and even on the days I cry, I can find happiness, I’m not sleeping excessively, and I have energy to do things, so that rules out depression in my mind.

I am making progress in the divorce negotiations, despite the stalls that are coming out of my lawyers office the last few months. The process has been incredibly long, exhausting, and an emotional roller coaster that tests my patience constantly. That being said, we are nearing an agreement it seems; the last two exchanges have gotten us closer to an arrangement I can live with. And I keep praying and asking the Universe to end this torture. Completing a separation agreement will bring about the end of this chapter, and lead to the actual divorce. The plan, if we can reach an agreement, is to file the separation agreement in court, which in Canada means the divorce will be granted without a court appearance, and one day, in approximately three to four months, I will get a decree in the mail, with no warning. And no need to see my ex.

Which is what I have always wanted, to avoid seeing him.

And could that be a part of my recent bout of grieving? Once the paperwork is in my hands, my life is truly my own again, which means I can enact certain plans, such as moving overseas, and implementing my “witness protection” plan. For quite awhile now I have planned on changing my name to something completely made-up using none of my previous names. I plan to move out of Canada permanently, and I will use his lack of compliance with spousal support payments to get registered with the agency that collects on behalf of a respondent. Which means I can shut down the email account he knows. All of which means I will be gone, untraceable.

It is the only way I can punish him for what he has done to me, but the irony is that he doesn’t give a shit. He isn’t looking for me or trying to contact me. So why would I bother going to those extremes? Anger, bitterness, punishment in case one day years down the road he has regrets or remorse and wants to contact me. None of those motives are particularly healthy, I know, but this is the only control I have. I never had an ounce of control in this process despite the small pieces I tried to champion. Which is part of why I am fighting him so hard on the separation agreement; I want to exact consequences on him for his choices.

That isn’t all that is happening in my life though that is challenging me. Because of the delays out of my lawyers office, again something I can’t control, my plans to move overseas is being hampered to the point where it would be a miracle if I can leave in May when I had planned to go. And I think that is seriously impacting my mental health.

The tiered rice fields of Indonesia

I delayed getting a job thinking it would all be over sooner rather than later, and actually getting a job and getting back into the workplace coincides with the timing of the start of my crying jags. Not that I resent working per se, or I am incapable in any way. It feels like defeat in a lot of ways, like I am giving up on my dream of moving overseas. It has also triggered a lot of anger towards him that he let me quit my $80,000 a year job, is fighting me on spousal support, and I am working for 50 cents more than minimum wage now in a retail environment. Not really my dream. The people I work with are nice which helps significantly.

I am bleeding money in legal fees, money that is now coming out of my “overseas” funds. Working at this wage it will probably take a few years to replenish the money I have paid out. I am fighting him to get that money back, which I feel entitled to since I didn’t cause any of this, and in the last round of negotiations, his lawyer wrote: “our client is not agreeable to paying your client’s legal fees as he has also incurred substantial legal fees”. Wow, fuck you. Consequences suck ass don’t they, and I don’t see how this is my consequence to bare? Are legal fees a stupidity tax for trusting him? Again, the anger with which I react to these legal proceedings is hard to sit with.

Now to my living arrangements. I have been procrastinating since November on building two pieces of furniture I bought from Ikea. I haven’t done the painting I had planned to do. I haven’t hung my chandelier in my bedroom. I haven’t even hung half of my photos. Now that my kitchen is finally finished after months of delays with that, I need to do a tile backsplash. And again, for some reason, having to face these chores feels like I am giving up on living my dream of moving overseas. Not only that, I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be travelling overseas, volunteering, seeing the world. I had an expectation for what I was going to do with this time in my life before I “settled down” again, and I am so far from that plan it is laughable.

Then there is the cha-cha I am doing with my writing career. I take one step forward, and two steps back. My ego is very much being tested.

I resent him and what he has put me through these last two years. I think my anger comes out in tears looking like a very different creature. As a woman we aren’t socially taught how to express anger appropriately. Being raised by two British parents who were uptight and emotionally shut-down, I wasn’t taught how to process or express any emotion. Whatever I have figured out along the way, dysfunctional or not, I have figured out myself. Shutting down is so much more appealing than trying to work through these complex thoughts that are triggering my complex and confusing emotions.

Sitting with this reality isn’t coming easily. I fight it, which probably causes me more grief. I run from it, spending money at the casino that I can’t afford to lose just to get a few hours peace from my head. I withdraw emotionally from my sweet understanding boyfriend because I am too exhausted and hateful about this experience to keep explaining myself. I don’t even want to write about it anymore; I just want it to go away.