One would think that after a four-hour delay it would be easy to fall
asleep on an airplane and especially after a four-day New Orleans
extravaganza. However, at this moment I had two choices of what to do;
either twirl my hair mercilessly or watch my boyfriend's head two rows
ahead of me bob and weave and eventually come to rest on his neighbor's
shoulder while he slept (i.e., the poor bastard who was lucky enough to
sit in the middle seat on said flight). I first opted for the hair
twirling, but my carpal tunnel was acting up so I stared so long at the
bob and weave that I started seeing trails. These two options lasted me
an entire fifteen minutes of entertainment. So this brings me to you
because apparently typing on the "notes" section of ones iPhone passes
the time rather quickly. No lie, it really did make the hellish trip go
by relatively fast.
I opened up the notes section of
my phone to read what I had written. It was straight up pitiful, but
that's okay because it was 12:57 in the morning after four days of
awesome goodness filled with plenty of laughter, drinks and best friend
goodness a girl could ever ask for. So I'm coming home from an
amazingly fun vacation where new friends and new memories were made.
However, I'm begging these memories to flood my sleep-deprived brain but
they don't take pity on me. I'm coming up on the realization that I
left town a mere 12 hours after I received the news of my exhusband
telling me the "friend" he cheated on me with was pregnant. I should
re-word that because it doesn't read quite just right. Ooh, ooh, I
missed a couple of words -- six months pregnant. Apparently, I missed
the memo where it says being the last to know is the "in" thing
nowadays. Do not fret because this isn't anything to be jealous over.
Those of you who have been reading my super fun-filled-not-so-much drama
may not be surprised at this new twist, and to be honest with you,
neither am I because the "cheating" was the reason behind the divorce
after all. I'll have to admit here, however, that the time frame was a
little bit much to take it, swallow and not vomit (which I did
successfully mind you - the not vomiting part).
Do
not get me wrong friends because I have much to be thankful for. I am
in a good place overall in this "My So-Called Life" series you have
tuned into. I have a job that I can say I truly enjoy after being in my
field for about 16 years. I have absolutely amazing and funny ass and
supportive friends. I have a kind and thoughtful and adorable guy who
is still hanging around despite all the excess baggage I'm carrying.
The reason for my sadness -- this is not the life I envisioned for my
children.
Jillian is old enough that she feels
disappointment and sadness over this situation. I'd love to tell you
I'm above all this shit, but I have zero desire to continue to encourage
a relationship between her and her (ex)stepfather at this point. I'd
never stop her, but I know she feels a sting inside. However, the
positive I am grabbing from this situation is that in the past six or
seven months her father has been playing a more active role in her
life. For this reason, I am grateful that the heartache I dealt with
brought her to a better place with her dad. I guess I'll take that and
run with it.
I feel sad for Andrew because I am
scared his father will play a less active role in his life. I
understand that I cannot worry about something that isn't happening in
the present, something that is not happening right before my eyes, but I
cannot turn away from something that tugs at my heart. In complete
honesty, however, I am frightened for the heartbreak that will
eventually come when the boy is old enough to put two and two together,
do the math and come in contact with some sadness or anger or resentment
towards his father. I'm a realist and while I am aware this may not
happen, I'm pretty positive that there will come that day that changes
my son's heart in a way, and no matter how little it changes him, it
will change him and this breaks my heart.
Again, I
didn't envision this life for my children, and maybe it won't play out
this way. It's not something I will ever know until it happens.
Regardless, my thinking about it now, while it won't make it any easier
to handle should it happen, makes me stand a little bit taller knowing
that my kids are the last thing I think about before I go to bed. Being
that realist, I know it is not my duty to protect my children from the
cruelty of the "real world" but rather to prepare them for it. However,
this does not comfort my heart when I think about the possibilities
that lie ahead for them.
I guess in the end -- no,
not guess, but know -- I know in the end that while this is not my
doing, not my fuck up, not my fault, I am beyond pissed that I am forced
to be involved in a situation that is out of my hands. I hold no
responsibility in the fact that my exhusband was an absolute dumbass and
let himself get into this situation. However, I'm a bit salty that
because of his fuck up I am going to be forced to pick up any pieces
that may fall at the feet of my children. I'm far from innocent in
causing any therapy sessions I may have to pay for in the future, but
this one tops them all. I am pretty sure I could handle it better if it
were my fuck up, but I can't help but be resentful that I have to deal
with someone else's fuck up.
So in moving forward, I will
continue to focus on all that I have gained in my divorce and not on
what I lost. If I sit and think about it, I have lost so much in my
divorce, and all that I lost was negativity, sadness, heartache.
Instead, I will focus on all that I have gained, and all that I have
surrounding me -- people that truly care for me, love me in some way,
and only want the best for me and my children. I cherish these people
more than I could put into words because the words would never touch the depth of my gratitude.
