She’s imperfect, but she tries
She is good, but she lies
She is hard on herself
She is broken and won’t ask for help
She is messy, but she’s kind
She is lonely most of the time
She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie
She is gone, but she used to be mine
- She Used to be Mine, Sara Bareilles, Waitress Soundtrack
I have been talking about starting a blog about my divorce for more than a year. So long, in fact, that I thought I had waited too long because I have moved through so many emotions, moved on from the overwhelming grief and pain.
Oh, the stories we tell ourselves.
Yesterday we had more than 20 centimetres of snow dumped onto the city. I got stuck just getting my vehicle INTO the garage. So this morning I woke up early, woke up my son AJ early, got out to the van early, and guess what. We got stuck in the alley. Real stuck. Neighbour pushing, son digging, half an hour of yelling and crying stuck.
I had to call into both my job that is ending this week AND to my new job that is starting next week but that I had planned to attend the morning meeting of today, to say I couldn’t make it in. So embarrassing. And frustrating. And all the emotions.
So, I yelled at my kid for giving up so easily. I told him that as an adult you have to work hard and can’t be lazy. And then I told him it wasn’t him I was mad at. It wasn’t his fault.
It was his dad’s fault.
Because if I had married a good person they would be here helping me get out of the back alley to work. But his dad didn’t care about me anymore or my happiness or if I made it to work safely.
This, I said, 21 months after his dad left me, and just three days after taking the “Parenting after Separation” provincially mandated course for all divorcing parents. The one clearly written by Social Workers that tells you not to speak poorly of your ex-partner. I could have written that course. But I can’t practice in times of stress.
So my kid hugged me and let me cry. He even offered to clear the snow off the deck so the senior dog can pee without struggling up and down the snowy stairs.
Then I sent him off to school and sat down to calm down with an online puzzle.
So, even this long after being left, I do find that I have things to write about for my blog.
Welcome to my divorce.
