Reason, Season, or Lifetime

 Back in March 2005 I travelled to the other side of the planet from Tokyo on a 15hr journey to meet a man who met through this blog. He also owned a blog, and we would leave each other comments. That’s how it started. We somehow fell in love, but being in a long distance relationship during the MSN Messenger era was a bit too hard for me. We broke up, went our separate ways, and each of us got married and lived happily ever after. 

We stayed in touch, however, and sent each other Christmas greetings from time to time. Wondering how life was treating each other. We follow each other on social media, and hit “like” on milestone photos of children and pets.

We grow old in our respective countries, on the other side of the world, and when one of us passes, the other one gets wind of the conclusion through Facebook…  

In a parallel universe.

In this universe, however, the ending is slightly different, and it is still being written as you read this. 

When I think about my story, I remember a poem I read when I was still at school: Reason, Season, or Lifetime. Because I’m still trying to work out why this man is still in my life.

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My soon-to-be-ex husband thought I would never find anyone that would want to be with me when he agreed to opening up the marriage. He thought I would live in the countryside by myself forever, while he lives it up in the city house that I paid for. With my son. And while he rested on his laurels, thinking he need not make any effort to fix the disaster that became my 15year marriage, I reconnected with the man I flew 15hrs to visit 19 years ago. 

It turned out that as I entered an open marriage his divorce was finalised. Two lovers, separated in time and space, somehow were in a position where the universe gave us another chance. This time in the era of smartphones and wifi connection. This time with maturity and hindsight to guide us towards a healthier relationship. 

I flew again to the other side of the planet to see him after corresponding almost daily and developing an emotional bond for over 6 months. Distance forces us to take things slowly, and as a result, we make the most out of the time we spend together. We’re fond of each other, we respect each other, we listen to each other, and we’re there for each other. 

Is he here for a Lifetime? I don’t know. I hope so, but I’m still trying to find out. 

My soon to be ex husband? I wish for it to be a Reason. And his season to end soon  

Departmental Curse

The department I work for, I thought, had an unusually high divorce rate when I joined 7 years ago. Maybe it was because in my previous workplace, most of the people were long term singletons. Or these days, I think they are called “incels”. 

Unlike my consulting days, the team I work with has a good work-life balance. It’s just that there is some travel involved; but again, not to the level of my consulting days. I would say less than 20% travel.

At least 10% of the team (that I know) came back from their brief business trip to a “Dear John” letter from their spouse and an empty house. In some cases so empty there were no furnishings left in the house. 

How does one clear out a three bedroom house, with two kids and two cats, during a 5 day business trip? That’s an achievement worth mentioning on one’s LinkedIn profile.

As I go through my legal separation (aka divorce) from my son’s father, I am slowly coming to accept that I truly belong to this team of wonderful colleagues who are all divorced. It’s almost as if our department is cursed and being a divorcee is how we are initiated into this team of internal auditors.

Yes. I am an internal auditor. 

The Unraveling… (part 2)

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. And one man’s hag is another man’s whore. 

“I’m kicking you out. You need to take all your stuff out of this house by the end of this month and move permanently to the holiday home with your dog. I don’t want you here if you’re going to be with another man.” was what I received on iMessage. Fifteen years’ of marriage and he still doesn’t have the decency or the courage to look me in the eye and say these things. 

What followed next was a list of “conditions for separation”. 30+ things he was dictating, including “alimony” for something he casually agreed to: an open marriage. None of the things he listed out included anything to do with custody arrangements for our son. Just assets, financials, and administration. 

What was I smoking fifteen years ago when I said, “I do.”?

Now I’m completely sober. Healthy. And I knew that I needed to finish what I started, which is to legally separate myself from my earlier mistake. No amount of couples therapy or reconciliation date nights was going to fix this marriage when one of us saw no problems with it. Perfectly happy was his marriage before I wrecked it with a third party. 

That’s not my reality; not my experience.

I drafted and rewrote the conditions for separation into offer of divorce conditions. For some reason he thought that a counter offer of couples counseling would bring me back. 

No. I’ve asked you twice too many times in 15 years. You never came to therapy; you never wanted to work it out with me. Too late. I don’t bluff like you… I moved on years ago since my last request to work on our relationship. I haven’t spent a weekend doing activities with you since. I don’t eat with you. I don’t holiday with you. I spend half my week in a different house from you. I just share some of our living space and pay the mortgage. 

I have my own life, and so do you.

And now, it’s time for me to interview divorce lawyers. Something I should have done years ago.

The Unraveling … (part 1)

 Open marriage. This is what initiated the end of a fifteen year contract with the father of my son. I remember that night clearly, as we were both in bed at the same time. It was unusual to be in bed at the same time, for the past decade or so we went to bed at different times. I went to bed by 9 o’clock. He came around midnight. 

I approached my soon to be ex-husband (S2BX) while he sat propped up on three pillows (one of which belonged to my side of the bed that he had a habit of stealing) playing “Smashing Four” on his iPad mini. 

One of four iPads in a home of three people. 

I asked if he thought our marriage would benefit from opening it up to other romantic partners especially because I had not been able to satisfy him sexually. We had a classic “sexless marriage” following the long, difficult conception process and early birth of our only son. It took over a year of trying to have a lot of sex during my ovulation week, and not much in between due to my lack of enthusiasm to continue the wifely duties. Sex, when it becomes a chore just like vacuuming or folding laundry, is something you put off until the last minute or outsource. At least for this wench who hates folding laundry these two are the best options. 

“Sure. If it pleases you. But I’m fine not getting a girlfriend, because I’m busy with work and raising L (our 12 year old son)”. He said, not looking up from his screen. 

I wasn’t surprised with his response, because for the best part of 7 years since our son started elementary school he has been indifferent about my various requests for independence. Holidays with my female friends, solo diving trips, spending half my week at our holiday home… the list goes on. 

“Are you sure you’re fine about opening up our marriage?” I asked repeatedly, because knowing how my S2BX is - possessive - I knew that operating under an open marriage may not be as easy as his “sure, whatever”s. 

He looked up briefly from his Smashing Four and said, “Sure, why not. If you think you can find someone who will be interested in you”, whilst smirking, as if to say:”if you can find somebody who is willing to be intimate with your fat, ugly body.”

He’s so offensive. Even more so after I put on 30lb during COVID. Even without the weight gain he often told me that no one else would want to be with a recovering alcoholic like me. 

Emotional abuse 101.

I once took it, but these days I’m over it. I’ve gone through enough therapy to let it bring my spirits down.

“Yes, I want an open marriage. I hope you’re fine with me getting a boyfriend.”

Perfect. I can decouple from a loveless marriage and have my sexual needs met by someone who will respect me and love me the way I deserve to be loved. 

Doing Grownup Stuff

 

Over the past decade or so, I’ve had to do some growing up. Aging is inevitable, but I never knew that growing up, or maturing, is something that I have to work at, and not something that happens naturally as we age. 

Since I started on the path of recovery from my alcoholism and addiction, I’ve gone back to a suit job, got married, bought property and built a house, had a kid - a micro premie who is on the spectrum, changed jobs, bought another piece of property and built another house, said good bye to my cats, and said hello to a dog, with a relapse and periodic return to prescription drug abuse in between. 

I’ll have ten years without alcohol this month though. It hasn’t been plain sailing the last 19 years, but nonetheless an achievement since this is the longest I’ve gone without booze. 

While the list of things I’ve done since 2005 sounds like I’ve got my life back in order, the destructive, drunk within has continued to sabotaged my inner life periodically. I’m not used to serenity and peace. Chaos and drama are where I feel alive. Always.

I struggled through a 15 year marriage to a man who is as sick as I was at three years’ sober. He chose not to seek professional help, or to get with a program to work on his issues. I, on the other hand, took on his issues, made it my own, and sat around pissed off that I had too much to fix on my plate. 

Time to let go of his problems, and him.

Divorce is never easy. None of my immediate family members have experienced divorce. All of them are widows or widowers, some of whom are living their best moments now that their tormentors have left for the other world. At 50, I’m too young to be dead on the inside, but too old to sit around waiting for something or someone to change my drab reality. It’s time I put my big-girl pants on and took ownership of my own destiny. Time for another round of growing up. 

* I need to thank my ex, but now current boyfriend, N, for encouraging me to write again. I doubt anyone else would read my posts so I’m writing this mostly with his readership in mind. *