-
...handing out candy.

In what has become another post-divorce tradition, I'm sitting in my house handing out candy while the ex supervises the trick or treating. I'm guessing this may be the last year as the kids are starting to gravitate towards partying with their friends but wanted one more year. And, I'm glad. It's time to move away from some of the forced "family" togetherness that we tried to maintain during the first year or so after we separated.

The reality is, I really don't enjoy spending time with him. He's caught in this Jon Gosselin mentality of partying above all else - including being a parent to his kids. (And no, I've never actually seen the show, but the cultural reference seems so appropriate whenever I read magazine covers in the grocery store.) He's the man I don't want my daughter to ever marry and the man I hope my son never becomes. But, he makes an adequate "uncle" type that can take them trick or treating for as long as they want to be out. So, I appreciate that. But I'm so thankful that we have plans to be out of town without him for Thanksgiving. I'm just done pretending to like him or try to be interested in his escapades and interests.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I have no idea how you lasted as long as you did. No idea.
8:33 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fifty.

-
Image
  In my 49th year on this blue marble hurtling through space, I built myself a life raft. Or, more simply, I finally started building myself a life.  I uprooted my entire existence and, without a job on the horizon and a rapidly dwindling savings account, I moved to California. Now, a year later, I celebrated my 50th Birthday in a most perfect way. I took a day off from a job that I truly love. I spent the morning with my grandsons followed by a quick swim. Opened touching gifts and messages from friends and family. Went to a spa for a glorious massage and facial as a gift from my family. After turning into a puddle of goo, I tracked down a beachfront restaurant and splurged on a chilled seafood appetizer platter (was it made for 2 people…yes. Did I care? No. Did I eat it all? Also, yes.) Lunch was followed by a photo jaunt meandering drive up the coast while listening to an “Andrea’s Top 50” playlist from my BFF. This evening has been spent FaceTiming with my kids and now cud...
Read more

10 years, but not really

-
Image
Today could have been my 10th wedding anniversary if my husband hadn’t killed himself.  But, to be honest, we never would have made it that long. I had considered leaving for several months, I knew I had to leave when he disappeared for a second time. I needed to get away from his addiction and mental illness for my own wellbeing. This is not to say I didn’t love him or wish that we could have had a long life together. I just don’t want to pretend that I’m grieving for a happy marriage. It’s a complicated set of emotions. I mourned the loss of my husband many times before his actual death. When he checked himself into rehab in 2016 — who am I kidding, when his daughters and I checked him into rehab — I prepared divorce papers. But rehab brought out the best parts of him, the parts that I fell in love with, and so, I threw those papers away, gave it another shot, trusted that sobriety might take hold and our plans of growing old together would work out.  What didn’t get address...
Read more

Welcome to widowhood.

-
Image
I am a 46 year old widow. I am neither a young widow, with a life of tragic possibility and young children to raise, or an older widow mourning the loss of the only love she’s ever known. I am someone who deeply loved a very damaged man for ten years before he took his own life.  I am finding that I am struggling to not quantify our relationship by the limited amount of years together that we actually had. I did plan on growing old with this man. I’d stopped dying my hair, stopped wearing anything that wasn’t designed for cozy living, hell, I started wearing Crocs.  I was comfortable in my skin for, maybe, the first time in my life. He was my favorite travel companion. We had found a peaceful home that we both loved. He had his first grand baby and another on the way - I got to be “Grandrea”.  He was a protector, a bit of a clown, definitely rough around the edges. We challenged each other, we were both in our own therapy, battling our own demons, talking them through, ge...
Read more