Posts Tagged 'separation'


OK.  Frankly I’ve been a terrible blogger in 09′.  I know this.  It’s hard to stay positive and upbeat when you’re life is turning into a big pile of donkey shit.  What started out as a blog about trying to have a baby has kinda become a place where I store all my venting about my happy happy hell.  Having a baby has become so far off into fantasy land that it isn’t even remotely recognizable anymore. Somebody probably turned that light off years ago to conserve energy.  I’m really hoping that can count as me being “green”.

I strangely take comfort in knowing that the rest of the country is in an economic hell with me.  We’ve all come to play at the same party and somehow found ourselves locked in the basement where the scary S&M shit is going on.  I’d really love to be let out now please.  You’ve scared the hell out of me and I have been sufficiently scared for life.  Thank you.

I spend at least 60% of my day telling myself how happy I should be about the things I still have.  My house, my dog, my health, my family, bla bla bla.

Then there’s 30% of stuff I have to just kinda laugh off.  No baby, no job, a banking nightmare, a fat ass…

But just when you thought I was horrible at math, no.  10% of my day is spent freaking the fuck out curled up in a corner crying.  In a dark room.  With damp walls.  And a clown laughing at me relentlessly in the corner.

Its that 10% that we will be focusing on today.  For some strange reason, its that 10% that has me paralyzed with sadness these days.  While I’m sure there is plenty about the other 90% that outweighs it, it’s this last 10% that I can’t stop thinking about right now.

My husband is a bipolar alcoholic and has turned into a selfish, all consuming child as of late.  He lies.  He manipulates.  He yells.  O sure there are good things about him, but I am really having a hard time finding them anymore.  Nobody else is allowed to be depressed when he is.  Everyone else has to be responsible and thrifty and careful because he simply wont be.  He’s a child.  Not a husband.  He wants a mother.  Not a wife. (O and anyone concerned with him seeing this, don’t be.  He has never been supportive of my blog.  Never reads it.)

He hasn’t had any respect for me or our marriage for a rather long time.  Its been hard.  I think I’ve been trying to tell myself that its temporary and that we’re just going through rough stuff, but common.  Things are hard for both of us these days but you’d never know it by observing the unbelievable attention and support that Mr. Babypants has been requiring lately. At the mere suggestion to his horrible behavior he goes bananas.  He gets manipulative and mean.  Then says crap like “leave then if you want to.  I can’t make you stay.  You’re the one that wants to go.  Then go!”

This last 10% has me all consumed.  I actually don’t exactly know what to do to fix it.  I know what some of you might say.  Leave him.  That’s not as easy as it sounds. I can’t change him.  I know this.  I don’t even want to.  He did the changing.  This isn’t even close to who I married.  He doesn’t even look the same.  And he took up smoking??  Who the hell takes up smoking in their late 30’s?  Really.  Who does that?  Especially when you know your wife loathes it.  And wants to have a baby someday.  See?  Completely self absorbed.

There have been no flowers, or nice gestures.  No selfless acts.  No making up for any of the insurmountable crap he’s put me through.  No meaningful “I’m sorry”s.  He figures that since he doesn’t think I’ll care he wont even try.  No effort at all.  No respect.  He’s just turned into a lazy child who wants to be taken care of and coddled and do absolutely nothing in return to show his appreciation.

I don’t know guys.  Things are bad enough.  I’m starting to think that a huge part of all this sadness is based on my bad decisions to stay with this man.


Mark Update

Is anyone else having a difficult time toggling between Mark and my Grandpa?  I’m finding it difficult to remember why I’m sad, who I’m thinking about, what the hell is going on, what day it is…I think this is what my brain looks like on overload.

Anyway.  Mark moved back home last night.  He’s been gone for 3 weeks.  After much discussion, crying, therapy and wine (for me of course), we decided that we were both committed to working this out.  Mark seems to have realized he hasn’t been handling this situation in an adult manor and has taken responsibility for it.  He recognizes that running away from the problem doesn’t solve it, it actually causes more problems.  (You know, simple stuff that most of us learned as children.)

I’m not completely sure how I feel yet.  On the one hand, I want to give Mark a chance to actually try now that he’s finally seeing that he’s a fuckwit.  On the other hand, I have already given him so many chances.  I don’t want to sound cliché, but this time actually is different.  (ew I’m rolling my eyes at myself too so you can all join me)  In the past there have been “I’m sorry”‘s, flowers, ass kissing, and slight temporary change.  There hasn’t ever been accountability, action, responsibility or genuine regret.  I haven’t ever heard Mark actually admit his mistakes and see him actively working to change his attitude.  This time, he’s been going to therapy, talking to his father every day, talking to me, and growing a set.  This is different.  Will it stay this way?  I don’t know.  And I’m not blindly moving forward assuming so either.  I need to see the momentum continue in the right direction before I let my guard down.

I told Mark that this was it.  This was his last chance.  If he ever walks out again, I will not take him back.  Period.

Then I spanked him, washed his mouth out with soap and sent him to the naughty mat for the night.

OK no I didn’t.  But I wanted to.

OK I didn’t really want to.

This is not me.

I’m sad.  I’m alone.  I’m not happy with this situation.  Nothing I have done has worked out the way I thought it would/wanted it to. My friends don’t like me anymore.  My family stopped calling to check on me.  My dog took up peeing on the rug.  I am so down I can’t even move forward.  Or backwards.

I think I’ve hit some sort of bottom?

Le Grande Gesture

First we’re up, now we’re down.  It seems as though Mark has decided that he’s in charge here.  Ahhh sigh.  Men.  He has swung in the other direction again and “isn’t happy with the way he’s being treated”.  Because he’s 13.

Being treated?  You mean the fact that I actually answered a phone call from the lying SOB that walked out on me?  Or the fact that I agreed to go to the dog park with him assuming that this was a small gesture – when in fact it was nothing more than an errand to the dog park.  Or how about the fact that I actually showed up to therapy against my own better judgement in the hopes that there would be signs of progress.

I need the grand gesture here.  This man fucked up big time.  When you walk out on your wife, you can’t take that back.  Its there.  It will always be there.  And what do men do when they fuck up?  They buy stuff.  They try.  They apologize.  The kiss our ass.  Where is my kissing of the ass and diamond upgrade?  Why do I not qualify here?  I’m still getting “well this is as much your fault as it is mine” bullshit. This man should be kissing my fucking ASS.  And believe me, its plenty big.  He couldn’t possibly miss it.  I mean at the very least he should pick up the damn phone if I call.  Like immediately.

Sure there are two sides to a story.  And of course I play a part in this.  No I’m not perfect and yes I’ve done things that have fueled Mark’s anger here.  But until he actually communicates with me, how the fuck am I suppose to know?  I’m not a mind reader.  And I can’t fix this.

I’m afraid that we’re at a crossroad here.  One that doesn’t have happy endings in either direction.  Mark clearly doesn’t get it.  He doesn’t see how horribly fucked up he has been.  He doesn’t appreciate anything I’ve ever done for him and isn’t showing any signs of caring about me at all.  Quite frankly, he doesn’t seem to care much about anything other than getting to be back in his house.  I am forced with either putting up with his crap and letting this go or filing for divorce and losing everything I have (trust me, this economy is no time to be splitting up nothing).  Awesome.

Latest #2

Attention class, I need everyone to pick up your hour glasses and hold them out in front of you.  I said everyone, girl way way in the back.  There.  Now.  Turn it over.

And…here we are.

Mark is starting to become human.  I only say starting because to me, he’s still a really big insane monster that’s storing up all the good feelings of the world in his belly with a lil window so you can see in it, but can’t get anywhere near it without electroshock therapy.  I shall call him anger tubbie.

I’m guessing Mark finally decided that his awesome new life alone kinda sucked.  And that he made a mistake, that lead to another mistake, that then lead to at least a dozen, which cross referenced the first one, and branched off into their own, and so on.  And now he’s all like “o crap” and I’m all like “nah ah” and he’s all like “I’m sorry” and I’m like “too bad”.

Bad behavior has bad consequences.  I told Mark that sorry is a start, but not enough.  That he took this way too far.  He wanted to come home and I said absolutely not.  That he has a lot of growing up to do, trust to earn and feelings to make up for.  This isn’t something that can be easily fixed and at this point I’m not even sure it can be fixed at all.  That while he’s thinking about things in the short term, I’m thinking about them long term.  I need to consider my future, my children (bah!  ahh sigh), myself and that he is not the man I see in that future.  At least not now.  Not this Mark.

No man in my future will abandon me just because they are mad.  They will never leave me to care for their life while they go off and have fun taking a hiatus from it.  No man in my future is going to hang out with losers and junkies and make decisions based on advice that they give them.  Not my man.  Not going to happen.  My man is going to be just that.  A man.

I’m still meeting with a divorce attorney tomorrow.  It should be interesting.  I’m not sure what to expect, but at this point, I need to be prepared because over the last few days I have never felt so terrified and upset that I was going to be stranded and left with nothing.  I can’t go forward without arming myself with knowledge.

Do I hate Mark?  Of course not.  I love him.  The Mark I married.  Not man who abandons his wife, takes all the cash and goes clubbing without his ring on.  That man should die in a fire.  Or at least get burned.

This is so much harder than it looks.

Happy Easter and all that crap.

Today was hard.  Really really hard.  I went to my parents this weekend for the holiday and everyone today asked me:  “Hey where is Mark”.  To which I replied:  “O he’s sick”.  Which I pride myself on being honest about because frankly, he is sick.  In the head.  My grandma pushed further and wanted to know if it was related to his hand, and if he was ok, and if I had talked to him this morning, and if I was bringing home some of the food for him, and if I was worried about him.  Ouch.  That hurt.  I’m barely holding it together as it is.

Then while we were all sitting around the table, the whopper of a stabbing hit me right between the eyes when I wasn’t expecting it.  And from a source that I would never have guessed.  Favorite Aunt.

Somehow the topic of there being more boys than girls at the table came up.  Why?  Hell if I know, my family talks about all kinds of strange crap.  Fav Aunt got really loud and said to my sister, “Now sister, there are too many boys here.  You need to get to work and make some girls.”  <cue dead silence and confusing stares>  Sister replies: “Umm, why don’t you bug someone else about that.  This baby house is closed.  But I’m not the only woman of fertile age at the table.”  <cue more confusion, more awkward silence and a lot more uncomfortableness from fav Aunt, Mom and Dad…o and me>

No matter how much my sister and grandmother pushed, nobody would say it to me.  Nobody.  It was way fucking worse than just letting it go and laughing it off.  I actually felt myself become a white elephant.  I even think my nose got longer right there at the table.  My sister and grandmother have no idea about Mark being gone or my infertility.  So they did what made sense.  But fav aunt never should have brought this up.  Just reminded me that I am now alone, baron, and sad.  And it doesn’t even matter if they felt awkward because Mark left me, or if its because I can’t have babies.  Both fucking suck.  And both make me want to check out cutting, or crack.  Or both.

I left early.  I really miss Mark.

Taking a separation

Bullets are all I can handle right now:

  • Mark left me.
  • Came home, packed bags, and left.
  • I found out tonight that Mark has been out of recovery for months.  (he’s been in AA treatment for 3 years)
  • Mark has been lying to everyone.  Telling me one thing, and everyone else something completely different.
  • There’s a lot of crap that I didn’t know.  Crap that is bad.
  • He’s gone.  He’s not coming back.
  • I am suppose to call an attorney in the morning.  I have to be logical??
  • Marriage:  Failed

Sorry Emma, my timing of my intellectual advice is obviously off.  Don’t listen to me.  I suck at it.

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