Like Father Like Brother Like Son
I’m in paradise. I’m in the hospital. My brother, like my father before him, is awaiting open-heart surgery. And I look at my brother, and I look down at my own girth, and I’m committed to doing even more on my healthy living path.
My father had his first heart attack when I was about 10. He was playing in the finals of a tennis tournament. I wish I could remember what my dad was like on the tennis court. Though it became my favorite sport, I’m pretty sure we never played.
It was a typical hot Texas weekend and my dad had just split sets in the singles final. In the 5 minute break he had reclined in the shade with a huge glass of iced tea. He never got back up. The ambulance came quickly and screamed off to the hospital with him. I was left with HER. My drinking, smoking, step-mother.
My dad faced a choice soon after that moment: change your life, for the better, or deteriorate into a series of health catastrophes until your untimely death.
Somehow! Even with four loving kids. My dad did not rectify his life. He died at 53. His widow followed soon after. Young and pickled from their love of alcohol.
It’s an odd thing when you are facing death. Mine came in the form of suicidal ideation. (A gentler way of saying, thinking about killing yourself, but stoping short of making plans to kill yourself.)
There I was, a wreckage of post-divorce sadness and self-pity. And my silly, wounded mind kept imagining my fall from a famous bridge, or calculating how many Ambien it would take to make the euphoria just take me away.
EACH TIME I came back to the impact it would have on my KIDS. While I wasn’t pulling through FOR them, I was certainly not going to intentionally devastate them with my self-inflicted demise.
So how did my Dad make the choice to turn away from us, me (his adoring mini-me) and my brother and two sisters? My rationalization goes to his alcoholism and the complete lack of clear thinking possible under his Cutty Sark dementia.
Still, it is not enough. Something deeper drove my dad to his death-wish demise. Some wounding, some battle-royale with his mom or dad… Some overwhelming sadness that fed his helpless withdrawal from being my dad.
And now, staring across the darkened hospital room at my obese brother, I am praying rather than rooting for him. At a point there are the larger things in life that drive us onward. For me, in those dark dark dark times it was my kids that held me to the mast.
My brother is 5 years older than my father when he died of his heart failure and cancer. When I look at his buddha-like figure I recognize too much of my own pain. I have kids to guide and encourage my future efforts at remaining healthy and alive. I wonder at my father’s lack of perseverance at getting well, after his FIRST heart attack. And I am prayerful about my brother’s condition. He is alone, without kids or current relationship. He has us. My mom, my sister and me. What will be HIS core strength?
I see my father in my brother’s condition. And I see too much of my brother’s tragic sadness in myself to ignore the resonance. I sit in the dark and listen to his labored snoring. I think about his easy laugh and willingness to make other’s happy at his own expense.
There is nothing easy about today. I am happy in my life. I bring that joy to others. Beyond that there is prayer.
We Skyped my kids last night from the hospital. They danced and entertained us for 1o minutes. It was a bizarre-futuristic movie scene. There was joy and poignant sadness at what was missing from my brother’s life. At least he has us.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Divorce Growing Pains: Accepting that She Doesn’t Want Reconciliation
As things begin to pick up for me again, both emotionally and financially, I still get this twinge of anger from time to time about the woman who lost confidence in me. Often there is one person who does not want the divorce (the dumpee) and the person who initiates the divorce.
And the spark of pain, that I occasionally still have to acknowledge and let go of, is SHE decided long before I did that she was done. When she toyed with “maybe a separation would help me,” she had already talked to a lawyer. I was still solid as a rock that we would get through this. We had been through so many trials of the spirit before, this was a chance to set some of our emotional connections right. That was my delusion.
It was November of last year, that I sent the last, “If I could change anything, or start over with someone…” email. She demurred. She was not interested. But what that letter did for me was release every last option in MY control. And when she passed, I was free to really explore dating.
|
She was looking to greener pastures. She was giving up on me. That still stings.
|
It didn’t work out that my aggressive get-out-and-fk approach didn’t really work for me. But I did let her go on another level when I saw myself actually having sex with another (a different) woman. Some core sexual thread was released back to me. I was still not sure that I wanted it back. I am still attracted to most of her physical qualities, her smell, the way she dresses, her smile.
But she is not attracted to me any more. She moved on within weeks of the final divorce and began sleeping with a plumber who caught her eye. WOW, now that was bold, or way off, you’d have to ask her. But it was at that time that I was so happy we’d put the “six-month dating before introducing to the kids” rule in our parenting plan.
She didn’t want to try separation. She was trying a way to ease me out of the relationship She was looking to greener pastures. She was giving up on me. That still stings. All the money we now put into TWO homes have made the economics much more stressful.
|
So we move along. We grow. We challenge what we knew about relationship, what we think we know about physical and spiritual attraction.
|
That final stage of release continues to happen. And I find myself looping back into desire for “what was.” It’s not for her any more, but the idea and memory of the wonderful times we had. And the loss every single time I drop my kids off and won’t see them for 5 days. OUCH! That I never wanted.
Today, I can say my dreams of reconciliation are more about getting my kids back. She’s not available to me. She’s been with her BF for almost a year. He’s met the kids. And even if she asked tomorrow, admitted her mistake, I know that I would say “No.” She was emotionally distant the entire relationship She didn’t know how to connect with deep feelings. It was never safe for her to do so with her mom and dad.
So we move along. We grow. We challenge what we knew about relationship, what we think we know about physical and spiritual attraction. And now we move in different directions. And that too is good.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
related posts:
- Easier To Be Quiet
- You Know They’re Watching You, Right?
- The Divorce Whisperer
- Of Course You’re Not Happy With Me, We’re Divorced
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Since My Last Confession
It’s been awhile. Um, and I’d like to tell you it’s been pleasant, or productive. It has had moments, but mostly I fell off a cliff.
I’m not sure exactly what kicked in to release the flood of … Depression, Fear, Lonliness… I put them all with capital letters, because it has been a bear crawling back out of the abyss. I fully expected, as I closed my last post, to pick things up and stick with the honest revelations. And… NOT. My creative flow doesn’t work that way. And I simply shut it all down.
In some ways I was crashing back into my divorce again. The rage that I have expressed here, turning into feelings of shame and regret. Why would I vent so furiously? I must’ve been nuts putting this much emotion and pain out there. How embarassing.
And what now, has changed my mind? What elements of life have brought me back to life? There is so much to tell.
Let’s start about the time the wheels fell off. I was struggling to finish my last post here (Loneliness. Fessing Up When Things Hurt for No Apparent Reason) and was fairly self-aware of what was happening, and still unable to avert the plummet. It wasn’t one thing that was freaking me out, it was several.
The biggest fear-factor for me was money. What I thought I had a month before had failed to materialize. And I went from self-confident (and perhaps arrogant) to despondent and lost. When the ability to pay your credit cards begins to fall off the map, things get a bit stressful. And they had been falling off for months. The prospect of work was keeping me afloat. And as the client continued to stall, my grip on the positive side of EVERYTHING began to loosen.
It wasn’t a dramatic pop, more of a sigh, as I let go of the cliff of Mazlow’s hierarchy and slipped back into the base plan of survival. Trips to pick up the kids at my former house became harder. My longing for a woman who did not love me back, continued to fester, even in the contradiction of my own awareness and good counseling. And my desperation about my own situation, probably emotional more than financial, began to turn bleak indeed.
I laughed at my unrational mind as I walked through our up-scale grocery store. On one side of the unattainable relationship model, was the yoga-fresh women in their mid-morning workout stride, flashing teeth, thin and evolved athletic legs, and lulu lemon outfits that cost more than my car payment. And on the other side was the obese cleaning lady standing in the customer service line. Neither extreme seemed attainable. And thus I felt hopeless in my contemplations of how I would EVER find a woman, another woman, to be with. I wanted to crawl back into what I knew before. To collapse in the sturdiness of my ex-y, irregardless of the cost.
So I was out of my mind.
And I could not seem to put any of the puzzle pieces of my life back together again. So I did what I do. I isolated. I shut down. I became very quiet. But I was hoping to be found and rescued. I knew that. I was nose diving into “fuck you” while hoping for a hand to reach out and scoop me up. I was emotionally about five years old.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Loneliness. Fessing Up When Things Hurt for No Apparent Reason
Today was one of those days. Nothing really happened to make me sad, but dropping the happy bubbling kids off at the ex-y’s house today I felt the depth of pain again. And maybe I have to come clean, maybe I need to look at my loneliness for a minute rather than skate over it in the name of exhaustion, too much work, apathy, and entertainment.
I don’t want to write about missing my kids. I want to go off and queue up a Game of Thrones episode and relax and forget about it.
I felt the pang of anxiety for the first time in months last week. I was dialing in some financial details and realized the bulk of the work that was materializing two months ago, had still failed to produce the steady income I needed. So I’m back against the wall, it’s the new month, and I still owe half of last month’s child support payment.
It is hard to share that. I’d rather curl up and be depressed. Maybe this is too raw, unedited… I can feel the emptiness and hopelessness that comes as part of this new planet I have landed upon. At the moment, I’m blogging, not writing the story. But perhaps the voice can come through and punch me back into gear.
At the moment it is exactly TWO WEEKS since I started this post. And the anger, vibrancy, and passion has veered off course into self-doubt and sadness.
Check list:
1. Exercise. YES
2. Eating well. MARGINAL
3. Sleeping well. YES
4. Keeping up with work. MARGINAL
5. Loneliness quotient: VERY HIGH
Dammit. I do not want to be here. I’ve called my support team. I am looking at what is going on with attention to ACTION rather than RUMINATION. And now as the sun is going down, I’m gonna have the 2nd walk of the day. A short one, an appreciation.
I’ve fallen down, but I am also in the process of getting up. Again. We get up again.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Single Parenting Magic – The SPO Has Given a Happy Moment
One. Three. Five.
Do those numbers sound familiar? In the SPO (standard possession order) those are the weekends the typical dad gets his kids. The first, the third, and the ever so lucky fifth. So this year we have Christmas in July. For some great turn of the calendar, this coming weekend is a magic “fifth.” And what that does, if you don’t know, is set up the double-weekend.
So I’m not saying she’s not being a good mother, but I do think our priorities are different. In some ways she WAS ahead of me in the entire divorce process. She would say it wasn’t premeditated, but she was closing down our communication channels for several years as she distanced herself from intimacy with me. It wasn’t hard. I was compliant. I took care of myself. But in doing so, I lost the heart of why I was in a relationship. It’s more clear now that I don’t have it, but I was desperate to stay connected. When that wasn’t offered, I was desperate to stay together until things got better. (Um, yeah. That’s a bad equation. NOTE: The other person is NOT going to change. They “might,” it’s possible, but it’s like waiting for the alcoholic to stop drinking. There’s always wishing and hoping and planning and doing better… And then there’s the slip or exit.)
|
Drop off and pick up can change the tenor of my entire week. Going by our old house was almost unbearable for the first year and a half.
|
So within weeks of the finalization of our divorce she was leaving the kids with a sitter to have sex with a repair man in another city. Oh boy! Yes, the word REBOUND came screaming up at me when I heard about it. And in my divorce recovery class, it was the only solace I had. Yes, she was already having sex with someone else. BUT HEY, it was a definite “rebound.” Fuck that. In many ways she had moved on and was all ready to GET IT ON with someone else. I have to say, “I get it.” But I was a little more calculated in my decisions, or maybe I was just so far behind in understanding emotionally what was happening.
The loss of the kids, the unlimited time with your kids, is the hardest thing. Well, that’s AFTER you get over the fact that this person has decided to bet against you. And suddenly you are left alone (and in my case homeless) to fend for yourself. And on all those nights that she has the kids for consecutive nights, you will learn to lick your wounds and get back up on your feet. Yes, it’s a process of self-discovery, but it’s like having the ladder out-of-the-hole kicked out from under you.
I guess there’s no good age for kids in divorce. And while my kids are thriving, I can see the loss in my daughter’s face when we are finally back together after a long period away. And her hugs and “mother hen” affection are just a bit over the top. I love it. I glow in it. I am careful to be the awesome dad in the father daughter constellation. As they say, she is learning, will learn, how to be with men by the healthy ways she learns to relate with me. It’s a huge responsibility. And it makes me sad not to be there for her. (The ex-y can date and babysit herself to her heart’s delight, but my daughter has become one of my primary concerns.)
It’s not that there’s anything wrong with her “relationship,” these days, but it does seem to me, that she puts her needs ahead of the kids. Perhaps that was the switch that allowed her to actually file for divorce from me. At some point she had to detach from me first. Then she had to make a decision that being without me was better for HER than being with me.
The kids are the hard part. Drop off and pick up can change the tenor of my entire week. Going by our old house was almost unbearable for the first year and a half. It was too close, to easy to want to crawl back into my old bed, to easy to long for a “return” of some sort.
And the SPO does take a huge portion of the time away from the dad. The lawyers and counselors likes to point out that “it’s pretty close to 50/50.” The problem with that logic is how that balance is achieved. There is this provision for the summers, that the NCP (non-custodial parent) can have the kids for an entire 30 days.
Let’s see what the problem is with that idea.
1. Financially it would be a huge hardship. If you could take the month off, it would be a killer vacation opportunity. But, like most parents, I would guess we have to keep working our normal schedule, then it becomes a 100% child care expense for a week.
2. Emotionally the kids are going to suffer being away from the other parent for a month. Maybe as the kids get older this will be an easier decision. But right now, the kids would be hurting to be away from Mom for that amount of time.
3. Logistically, you’ve got to make provisions for their care, entertainment, and nurture, while continuing to provide financially for both them and their mother.
|
As they say, if she’s happy, my kids are happy, and that’s supposed to make me happy too. It sort of works that way.
|
So, let’s just say, it’s going to be awhile before I am able to swing (or even want to swing) a 30-day visitation during the summer. THEN, the next best thing is the magic fifth weekend.
One more moment of reflection on the “balance of the schedule.” So JULY for me is going to be like EVERY OTHER MONTH is for her. OUCH!
I’m not interested, nor do I have the funds to change our legal agreement. BUT… at some point the “balance of time” vs. the “balance of the financial obligation” might have me looking at changing the custodial arrangement. I simply don’t have the funds to pursue it. And, for now, it’s working out to my advantage. A sad and somewhat lonely advantage, but nonetheless, I am getting a ton of work done in my “off parent” time.
So for now, I can thank my ex-y for taking care of the kids the majority of the time. (Note: during the school year she does shoulder an unfair burden of school parenting and homework, but hey, that’s the breaks.) And I can be the best dad that I can be during the time I have my kids. And I can celebrate the little gifts of the “fifth.”
And she can go right ahead and remarry, as she’s already mentioned in relationship to her current boyfriend, if that’s her path. I’ll do what I can to support her and the kids through whatever’s next. And I will keep the anger and bitterness here, in this process-writing, rather than in the my dealings with my ex-y. As they say, if she’s happy, my kids are happy, and that’s supposed to make me happy too. It sort of works that way.
In July, this year, I’ve got a lot to celebrate.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
@theoffparent
related posts:
- Evolving Single Dad: Failure to Hopefulness Again
- What I Need To Tell You: Take Heart. It Gets Better.
- Happy Mom Chat About How I Got Here: What I Figured Out
- Creative Parenting and the Gifts of Enthusiastic Participation
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
How Much Longer Until I Feel Better? (Post-divorce Depression)
One a day, or one day at a time, is the only way to think about recovery from divorce. Recently a trusted friend said that we DO need to take vitamins, that there were some key elements (in the general population’s diet) we were just not getting from our diet any more. And while I’m certain she was thinking of something more holistic than one-a-days, the price and convenience was right.
Each day, I dutifully swallow these little green happy pills. And I can’t help but wonder, “When are these new minerals and vitamins going to kick in? When will I feel better?” (Of course, if you need real happy pills be sure and talk to your doctor.)
There is no map out of this land of confusion. You press on, day after day, because you must, because there are people [kids in my case] counting on you.
There are going to be good days and bad days. And even when you feel completely free of the influence of your ex-y, something will happen, a trigger, a song, a restaurant, a movie, that will trigger you feelings of longing and loss again. It’s okay, it’s good to feel into those deep feelings in the moment, and then move on past them.
For me, the routine is the thing. I’m usually up by 6:00 am when I do my creative writing. (I developed this habit when I needed time to write and I would wake up before the entire house to get an hour in before I needed to wake everyone else up. It was always a little like being Santa Claus. Every one was soundly dreaming away an I was up making coffee and lunches and sitting in my comfy chair and writing. It was a golden moment.
And I enjoyed the routine of getting the kids out the door every day, for school. I was the breakfast dad. And I’m sure, from what my kids tell me, things are a bit different at the old house now. My son told me he shared with my ex-y about how I get them up in plenty of time to listen to some music and roll around in bed before having to get dressed. There’s always music in my house.
I do have to get the work done, so I can keep the house, and keep making child support payments, and eventually catch up on my taxes and credit cards.
So now there are 4 or 5 days in a row when I don’t have them to wake up, when they are with their mom. I still get up at 6 and write. And even by myself, even on weekends, I love this time alone. And I think this blog, this writing about it, has brought me up and out of any lingering sadness completely. Not so sure about the One-a-Day vitamins. I think my friend was imagining a more holistic vitamin. (grin)
So I’m up and at it early every day. And not that it’s getting really damn hot during the day, I try and get my walk in before 10 am as well. There is no question that the walking has helped a lot. Not with my buddha belly (yet) but certainly with the energy and confidence that comes from “doing what’s good for you.”
And today, just for a moment, speaking to my son on the phone, I wanted to be with him rather than where I was. I could’ve changed my day and done something else with him, but instead I stuck with the plan. I do have to get the work done, so I can keep the house, and keep making child support payments, and eventually catch up on my taxes and credit cards. Onward we go.
And walking down the road or trail with my iPod blasting, I can imagine that I will come through all of this in a better place. (Hey, maybe that One-a-Day is working.)
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
see also the depression tagged posts
Related Posts:
Recently Divorced, I Discover that Untethered Joy Is My Natural State
I have a joy about me that I will no longer contain. In the relationship with my ex, there was friction between her and my whimsical and joyous nature. In her universe, the cleanliness of the house could be more important than making love or playing with your children. Not in mine.
So maybe at 49, coming untethered from her two years ago, was the release I needed to transform — through the shit storm of depression and self-doubt and into something even more self-sustaining and full of smiles.
My kids wrote those little love notes to me several weeks ago and their messages still punctuate my every waking hour.
My 11-year-old son’s first line, “You are so happy.”
And my 9-year-old daughter’s poem”
“You are always so cheerful
You are fun
You are funny
You are very loving
You are smart
You are awesome
And I love you”
And looking ahead, in October and November the three of us enter our EVEN years, while their mom will become ODD in a few weeks. And maybe we were just out of sync the entire time.
In my new life, we laugh more than I remember laughing while married to my ex-y. A buoyancy has taken root in our lives during our time together. We sing we roll our eyes at each other, we laugh an awful lot, and our family unit has regained or re-embraced some of the uber-joy I try to create in my life. I think this joyous way is my gift to my children. There is plenty in life that will challenge, hurt, and reset your goals and expectations. But there is nothing quite as important as how you deal with those things.
I can do very little to influence or control my ex-y’s life way. I imagined at some point that my joyous perspective would rub off on her, that WE together would experience a joyous life. And perhaps somewhere along the way, she lost faith in the joy-focused path. She returned to what she knew: calculating, measuring, planning, organizing, and trying to fit emotional variations within the formula of an excel spreadsheet. And observing her father’s behavior and relationship with our kids, it is easy to see where she learned to calculate rather than celebrate.
The friction and the limiting tie-downs have been removed. We, my smaller family unit, is free to move about the universe with a joyous and playful belief in the world. And as my ex makes arrangements to introduce the kids to her new BF in the next few weeks [as early as the parenting contract will allow] I understand that the introduction is not for the kids, it is for and about her and her happiness.
My hope is that she has found someone who lifts her up out of the chores and Excel calculations enough to enjoy some of the fruits of her labor. My understanding is that internal joy and lightness comes from within and not from another. A relationship to another person can influence and join your “way of being” with another person, but it never merges or changes a person’s internal nature. My hope is that whoever he is [he who she started dating in January] that he brings a huge influence of lift and laughter into my kids’ lives. I think the seriousness of divorced time has passed.
And regardless of my ex and her boyfriend’s trajectory, I hope that I can provide the platform of happiness that my children will stand upon when they are facing tough times in their future. And that’s what I owe them. That’s what I owe myself.
You are so always so cheerful.
You are so happy.
I am untethered and full of joy. It is my gift to my children. And perhaps it is my influential effect on my next serious relationship. But the joyousness has to be found and established inside ourselves. There is no BF or GF that is going to make us more happy. We have to find that for ourselves. And honestly, I do not know if my ex is happy. I know that she was ever-more unhappy as time with me moved along. And she has been released back to her natural state.
And I suppose, so have I.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
related posts:
- Waiting for the Other Person to Change – The Path Towards Divorce
- Divorce Recovery: Loving Yourself Better, So You Can Eventually Love Again
- Negativity and Isolation: Branching Out To Avoid Breaking Up
- The Evolving Single Dad: Failure to Hopefulness Again
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
I See You – Losing that Loving Perspective
At some point in the relationship, my ex was no longer seeing me. She didn’t listen to the songs or poems I was writing. I was unable to reach her by asking for what I needed. She was gone in some fundamental way.
The most basic need I think we are all trying to fill is that of being seen. Being embraced for who we are, for accomplishing or failing at our ambitions, for our good deeds and our strengths. When two people begin the courting process, we are trying to see ourselves reflected in the other’s love for us.
A whole bunch of the courtship is our own projection and song of desire we are projecting on other person. We are self-creating the fantasy of who this “lover” is and all the ways they complete us. A feeling of fulfillment, the fulfillment of some long unmet needs, all being showered down upon us in the radiant attention of someone else’s love. And then there is the rest of life.
I sing the song of myself all the time. I project a wonderful life story on the woman who speeds past me in the black Audi with bike racks. I plug in my projection of who she is and how she will be amazed at the new song I have written her. And I’m sure at one point, my ex-y, pre-kids, pre-major-adult-responsibilities, saw me.
My mom has a picture of me at that time. My girlfriend-at-that-point-in-time and I had gotten a Boston Terrier together. In the picture I am holding the tiny dog and looking pretty pleased with my life. It was the only time in my life that I had shoulder-length hair. This is who my ex-y saw and crawled into life with. This younger me, with long hair, and ambitions to “make it” as a musician. And she was an artist too. We were artists.
As time progressed the real world set in and our first child brought more realness than we’d imagined. She took time off from work, I was self-employed and working in the garage of the new house, in the dream neighborhood, that we’d purchased for the kids. “For the kids.” Okay, it was for us too. There was a part of it, dream fulfilled, that we had moved into a sweet neighborhood with sweet schools and a sweet tennis/swim club just down the hill. It was a sweet moment.
Things got more and more real. I had to provide financially on a different level than I had ever had to before. We were happy in our little dream and we were working hard to keep it warm and fun. And of course we had the baby boy. The amazing baby boy.
And I recall the exact moment our second child was conceived. We both did. It was a mid-May afternoon, the weather was just moving from crisp to hot and my then wife, came home from her part-time work, and she was standing in the opening of the garage door, in her professional attire, looking like the very hot woman I had fallen head over heals in love with. The baby was inside asleep. It was a perfect moment. We made sweaty hot love with her on top of me, mostly still clothed, sitting in the chair at my desk. We both enjoyed it. An ecstatic moment.
Already, we were conscious of wanting another child. The baby had been so fantastic. And wouldn’t it be amazing if we could have a girl too.
This time the pleasant valley road didn’t go so smoothly. After our first proud sonogram at the regular ob/gyn’s office, we were given pictures of our baby girl [YAY] and the number for a pre-natal specialist. A few of the numbers were off.
Way the fuck off. And thus began the roughest moments in my life. Our daughter had a rare disorder, a blood incompatibility with my wife’s blood. The weekly doctor’s visits, with their go-nogo diagnostics were almost unbearable. But what do you do? You can only bear it. There is no RESET button. You can’t go somewhere else and hope things get better.
Our son was amazing. Our nanny was amazing. Our doctor and our pre-natalogist was amazing. It was all fucking amazing and terrifying.
And about this time, the twin towers were taken out and all of our lives, the entire planet, were stopped and changed. But the doctor’s visits still had to go on. And even though each of my consulting clients froze every cent of my income overnight, I had to press on with “what’s next.”
Neither of us knew what was next. But it was probably during this period in our lives that we began to lose track of each other. My spiral into despair and struggle was not a pretty one. And she soldiered on. She was amazing. I tried to keep telling her that without sounding desperate. I tried to be strong, and I guess I was, but everything was kitty-wampus and upside down. We do what you do. We pressed onward. We fought to keep our daughter, we blessed my wife’s part-time employer insurance that covered the entire 6 months of pre-natal care. We hovered around our son and each other. And we pressed on. And maybe we broke.
Our daughter was born healthy and feisty one mid-morning in November. And she was a miracle. The blood issues that might have been present didn’t show up on any of the monitoring machines. We had made it through the dark. We were through the initial shock of it all [birth, 2nd kid, 9-11] and turning the corner into the next stretch and headlong into some very dark woods indeed.
The very real work of having a family, working to keep a house and keep our sanity during such a trying time led to some pretty serious consequences. I will admit to having some sort of nervous mid-life break down. Somewhere in my fears my brain had decided it was no longer a productive part of my body. So we, my wife and I, were both in deep reality-bites mode and moving quickly into WTF mode.
My recovery was not easy. And the toll was paid on my wife, my son, and my new daughter. And the toll was taken on my life expectancy, as I continued to struggle for what I wanted to do now that my business had been blown up by 911. And the bills, mortgage, and doctor appointments never slowed down. It’s like my life had taken a stall, but the rest of reality kept barreling right along.
But as I recovered parts of my spirit, as my trusting and happy self re-emerged there was a long distance between my wife and I. We’d both been through hell. She had stayed sane and dealt with it. And I had exited in some psychological way and left her with all the work. [That’s not quite true, it’s not like I left or died or anything, but my 110% self was tucked away somewhere deep.]
And so in trying to make it forward we stopped listening to each other. We tried, but the noise the fear and the pain was too loud. And we struggled on. We both stuck it out. What choice did we have? Divorce? It wasn’t in my vocabulary. Depression. That one was familiar, unfortunately.
And our little unit survived. Scarred and weary, but we survived. And when the joy began to return, the true gut busting joy, I started feeling and acting on the hopefulness I felt. I’m imagining my ex-y never got back to that joyful trust again. She did not respond to my affections in the same way. She wasn’t supportive of the music I was creating as part of my recovery. I’m pretty sure she only listened to them when I sat with her and made her see me and hear me.
I was looking for something like a healing between us. I was expressing my ouch and my yay. She was not listening. She must have been listening to some other internal voice of her own. And the warnings and trouble overwhelmed the positive memories. Perhaps she never trusted me, or allowed the feelings of love to come between us, again. (Sad.)
We want to be seen. More than anything in the world we want to just be seen for what we are and what we have accomplished. I tried to thank her for her support and celebrate our rebirth. I sang to my kids. I sang to others. But she had lost the taste for my voice. And perhaps it was over for her, long before it was expressed as a desire for divorce. I kept singing. I kept writing poems. I kept playing and enjoying our kids. And she continued to maintain and increase her distance from me. Perhaps even from them, in some guarded way.
I writhed a bit. Our last Valentine’s Day as a married couple was a complete miss. I posted a geeky love poem on my blog. I was sure she would see it. She was working in Search Engine Optimization, so I SEO’d the post with her name and my name, thinking that might get caught in her filter. She did not see it. I kept it as a secret not as a trick, but as a way to surprise the heck out of her when she “discovered” my love poem.
I followed through on Valentine’s Day morning by letting her sleep in while I made pancakes and entertained the kids. [That this had become more and more of a pattern, might have been a clue as to her state of mind, but I was happy to give her some extra rest.] When she woke, I made her some coffee and breakfast. And I had a gift and a card for her. The kids had cards for her as well.
Her Valentine gift to me was a bit odd. She gave the me book of The Fighter. And her card said something about me being on FIRE and her like ICE. She was saying something about how our opposites were still good together. But I don’t think she meant it. I was more confused than encouraged. I wanted to understand the hint, but I couldn’t get past the pugilistic book. How that exemplified her love for me, was unclear.
I was still writing love letters and she was giving me a book about a boxer. Clearly we were not hearing or seeing each other with the same hearts that brought us together, eleven years earlier.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
@theoffparent
- back to The Hard Stuffrelated posts:
image: down left up, jane rahman, creative commons usage
The Close of Business Between Us: Taking Back the Heart of Darkness
It wasn’t too long ago, six months I guess, that I was feeling a moment of pause, reflection, and doubt. During a kid drop off moment, I had the idea, “If I’m going to start completely over with someone, I’d rather start completely over with my ex.” Not to remarry, or move back into my old house (we’d certainly gone too far for that) but to actively date for a bit. She was still the one person I wanted to chat with more than anyone. And it wasn’t about sex, although at that moment I had not been with anyone else.
I wrote her an open email about where I was standing. Professed my continued love for her, and proposed we discuss, imagine, see-if something like “dating” would appeal to her as well. I was pretty sure at that point that her “other lovers” totaled about 2, but only one had been confirmed.
But it wasn’t from a place of weakness or sorrow. Actually, it was a place of great strength. I was thinking, “I’m big enough to tell her this.” And a funny thing happened when I sent the email. I was actually able to let go of any expectations of what the result would be. In fact, in many ways, I was releasing her with one final ask, “Are you sure this is what you want. Because it is STILL NOT WHAT I WANT.”
The silence was deafening. About 36 hours later she responded with, “I’m very touched by your offer.” And some more blah blah blah. It was a resounding NO.
But even before she responded I was feeling a huge lift. In a way that I had not felt since she asked for the divorce, I was feeling free of her. I clarified after her ho-hum response. I was not looking to move back in, or really change the current living or even kid schedule, I was merely imagining that we might want to spend some time getting to know each other again before we truly moved on.
It was clear from her lack of follow-up that I was the one still wanting to get to know her. Her last missive on the subject alluded to how I was a “very desirable man” and … blah blah blah… She was not interested.
A few weeks later we made plans to do the kid’s Christmas presents together in my house. She would come to my house since I had the first half of the holiday in our schedule. I could not have done this had I not had this release.
At the end of the 2nd message, I put something in there about going out on the open dating market for the first time. (I don’t know why I needed to put that in.) And sure enough within a few weeks, I was aligned with my dog-loving ice breaker.
Today, many months later, she has let me know she has been seeing her new lover since Dec. At least that gives me the idea that she was really in a place to consider my re-connect offer. Who knows.
And as she has now discovered this blog (Thanks to Google+ and Google’s advertising efforts) I now have even less to talk about. I don’t disdain her. Far from it. But there is a completion to my process with her. I don’t really want to see her when I drop off the kids. I don’t like her renewed fantastic shoe fetish, nor her recut short blonde hairdo. I’d rather not… Not even imagine.
And a helpful concept from the divorce recovery class comes to mind often in our “drop off” encounters.
“Think of your ex as a convenience store clerk. You are there to conduct business and leave. You don’t need to exchange pleasantries or ask how things are going.”
In fact, I’m best not knowing any of the details of her life.
So six months ago, I negotiated our final close of business. And now we are free to date, love, enjoy. And, as she has been in this entire process, she’s still just a few steps ahead of me.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
related posts:
- Marriage and Money: A Fairy Tale
- I Must Be Insane: It’s the End of the World, and I Feel Fine
- Stinging the Hand that Feeds
- Winning the Battle, Losing the War
image: I found this black half-heart stone on my walk today, it’s on top of the check I am writing to my ex for child support this month.
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Doing Well Is the Best Revenge; Should Be Served Cold
Money played a much bigger role in my marriage than I’d like to admit. And now, divorced, the relationship between my ex and money is about the same. With one big difference. I can ignore my ex when she’s going on about money. We’ve got a contract now. And if it’s written, then I don’t need to keep negotiating when, how, if, and the ever-present, “It would be nice if…”
Nope, as easy as pushing mute on my phone when it’s ringing.
She’s really no easier now than she was. There’s still this urgent need to know exactly when and how much. As if a day or a hundred dollars is going to make a huge difference to anybody but her.
Yes, I’m a bit more laid back about money. And, confession, I’m slightly behind on the health care part of the payments. But things are just about to change. My consulting business just booked two new clients that are going to take me to about 120% of capacity.
The good news is, I can do the extra 20% now because I don’t have my kids for most of the weekday nights. So, dear ee I’m going to catch up. I’ve told you I would as soon as I had a good book of business. And that’s true.
The part that’s fun about it… (Poignant, rather than fun.) The fun part is that money is about to get much easier for me. And that’s good, I’m middle-aged. And while I’ve just killed my entire retirement account, to keep up with the child support payments, I’m going to rebuild stronger and bigger than ever before. So I will wave at your working-your-ass-off self, the one who decided to split up the 11-year partnership we’d formed. And I have the awareness at this point that I was trying to grow a more sane business model for both of US. Now you are out of that equation. I hope you find what you are looking for.
I’m looking forward to being a solid provider again. And the ex will get what’s coming to her, to the letter of the law. But the partnership could’ve produced some great opportunities and cushion. Oh well. On to what’s next.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
When I Stopped Believing – And Started Growing Up
There was a distinct moment in my life when Jesus Christ let me down. I will never forget it. And probably I haven’t forgiven him.
The worst thing in the world was happening, my parents were getting a divorce, my world was coming apart. I was seven or so. Some how I begged my mom to take me to this movie about family values and redemption. (It must have been some kind of “special” or something, because I don’t remember this type of movie before or after.)
In my mythological retelling of the story, both my mom and dad were there. (I think it was probably just my mom who took me.) We watched the movie. The theater was freezing cold and I was shivering AND transfixed the entire time. The family in the movie was falling apart, just like mine. And some how, this family held it together, with the healing power of Jesus Christ. I was sold!
As the lights came up in the theater I was stoked and shivering. My mom pulled me to leave, but they had said something at the end of the movie, that there were people who would talk to you if you wanted to learn about Jesus. And at that very moment, at that pivotal moment, I REALLY WANTED A SAVIOR. I really wanted to learn about how Jesus could turn my family life around.
My mom (and dad?) said they’d wait for me in the lobby. I was fiercely determined to have Jesus hear me. I sat there, freezing my ass off, waiting for the missionaries, or who ever they were, to make their way to my seat and SAVE ME.
+++
Needless to say the salvation didn’t happen. My dad was still a fkin alcoholic and my mom was still crying. And from the ages of 7 – 9 they fought over my dad’s fortunes and over my custody. And the whole thing blew apart.
I may still not have recovered my belief in Jesus.
What I cried about the very moment I figured my ex-y was serious about the divorce, was not ME. What unraveled me, was how I was going to tell my son, my little me.
What I learned as I was crying and hugging my mentor/father-figure/counselor was I was grieving not my divorce, but the destruction and betrayal I felt at my parent’s divorce. I was not crying for my son, that would come later, I was sobbing for me. The son I was when Jesus couldn’t put my family back together again.
A song came on the radio as I was driving to my counselor’s house. Lullaby by Shawn Mullins. The chorus is, “Everything is gonna be alright, rock a bye.”
The tears welled up as I was driving to my appointment. How was I going to say that to my son when I didn’t believe it myself. What I thought at that moment, falling apart, was NOTHING IS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT!
I guess on the other side of that grief was the work of getting my act together to be strong and clear for my kids, during this major upset in their lives, the shit storm that was heading their way. I had to get some of my despair out so I could be solid for them when they needed me to be a support for them.
The afternoon we told the kids, together, was one of the saddest moments in my life. But it was sad for my little boy, for the death of THAT dream. I had some hope that MY kids would be okay. I knew that I was not going to turn into an alcoholic or rage-filled bastard.
My daughter’s first question was, “Are you going to take any of the pets?”
My son was “I’m fine” about it. He channeled his energy into the idea that they were going to have two Christmases just like some of their friends who’s parents were divorced. It was a win-win for him, at first. About an hour later, he was sobbing in his bedroom. He was confused.
And the ex-y and I stayed solid. We assured him that neither of us was going anywhere.
He quickly changed the subject, “Can we all go to a movie this afternoon.”
I was tempted to say yes. But the ex-y wisely counseled that there would be plenty of time for movies, but that we were just going to hang out for a bit. “And then your dad is going to leave.”
I can still feel the lump in my throat as I recall that moment. But I’m getting better. It is getting easier to share about it. And our kids are doing really well. I have to give credit to the level head of my ex-y at that moment. There was a part of me that heard my son and was like, “SURE, one more movie as a family, what’s it gonna hurt?”
We never did another “full-family” outing again. And that’s probably for the best.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
+++
+++
Lullaby – Shawn Mullins “Everything’s gonna be all right, rock a bye.”
Cherry PopTarts and Love (fathers & daughters in divorce)
I buy them because my daughter loves them. Cherry PopTarts. But when she’s gone, they are hard to resist. Resist I will, however, because I need to get a bit more fit (okay a lot) and eating a PopTart is never the way to go. Today, I’m learning to navigate the junk food isle.
In our family house my ex-y and I shared the shopping. I tended to make the runs to the local grocery store, on the way home from work, “Can I pick something up for dinner.” I was that kind of husband.
She used to make the Costco runs on the weekends. And, god bless her, she’d take the kids. I’d no more want into that movie than… well, I’d rather stay home. Probably to nap. Staying up really late, does take its toll on your energy and daytime running lights.
And the kids would come back all excited and happy. They usually got a treat of some sort. And there were these HUGE boxes of food in the Prius. And I’d unload with my ex-y and often it was all I could do to hold my tongue. Not every time, but at least every other time, she came home with about 40% crap/junk food.
Sure the kids loved Sweettarts but we didn’t need a 5-lb bag. And fruit rollups, and sugary sodas, and all kinds of popsicles and… Well, you get the idea. And you can’t (I can) blame her, going to Costco with kids in tow was a crazy hard task. Maybe if I’d a gotten up and played football with them or something… But a trip to Costco was an EVENT and they always wanted to go. Because they could pick out their own crap.
I recall several times, the very next day, when I had dinner duty, looking in the pantry and refrigerator and saying to myself, “There’s not one fkin staple in the house.” And I’d go to the local store for some tilapia or chicken. GRRRR.
And it wasn’t just the crap that the kids ate, it was the crap that was staring me in the face 24/7. You turn down a coconut popsicle at midnight, when you’re sad, tired, and alone. That part was my fault. I cannot blame my growing girth on my ex-y, but GD do we have to fill the house with all this junk food?
Halloween, Easter, Christmas, Valentine’s… wasn’t that enough? Did our house have to junk shelves year round.
A funny thing happened as I moved out and had to fend for myself, both in the grocery store and at home. I didn’t buy any junk food. Sure I’d get stuff when the kids were going to be with me for the weekend, and I still do (see picture of Cherry PopTarts) but I don’t fill the house with it. My son asks me to cut him an apple almost every night. Sure it’s a few more steps than grabbing a fruit rollup, but damn, one of them is actually good for him.
Dropping the extra pounds is my deal and my challenge. And staring at the pile of Cherry PopTarts in my pantry, I am tempted, BUT I have a strategy when shopping with my kids. If they want a treat of junk food (ONE!) I make sure it’s something I don’t really crave. PopTarts are a hit, but I don’t like Cherry. It’s great that its her favorite flavor.
Last night, late, I had a hard time not ripping into one of the shiny tempting packages of goodness. And everyday until they are gone, I will have the same temptation from time to time. And that’s another part I needed to learn: Listening to what MY body needs. And what it needs right now is a walk, not another cup of coffee.
I love PopTarts, but PopTarts don’t love me back.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
@theoffparent
back to Single Parenting
A few other posts of interest:
- Evolving Single Dad: Failure to Hopefulness Again
- What I Need To Tell You: Take Heart. It Gets Better.
- Happy Mom Chat About How I Got Here: What I Figured Out
- Fathers Teach Their Daughters What Honest Love Looks Like
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
image: my daughter wrote a list of the things she likes about me last weekend
Going Without – The Loneliness of Standard “Possession” Orders
So last month when she asked me to go week-to-week schedule instead of the 1-3-5, I balked. I ultimately agreed, but in doing so I lost the ONE perk of my side of the SPO, the double weekend. And the parenting counselor had very little say on the matter of why, this was a better set up, rather than going 50-50. “The kids need to be with their mother at this time of their lives.”
And THAT LOGIC, my friends, is BULLSHIT. It’s bias based on research on much younger kids. And it doesn’t take into account the robot mom who feels very little and would rather get everyone onto a verifiable schedule and spreadsheet.
So last month I lost a double weekend because I was being flexible. Then when I needed a moment of flexibility back, because I had a work schedule shift, she replied, “But you already agreed to the change.” The change I was asking for was still 4 weeks off.
My response. “Fine, I’ll cover my own event. And in May we go back to the SPO schedule. When there’s a problem or a disagreement go back to the contract.”
What I didn’t say, “And you can figure out how to meet up with your honey on his 1-3-5 schedule by altering HIS routine not mine. And I’ll take back my occasional double weekend present from the LAW.”
So I enter my 1-of-11 days period now. I’ve got plenty to do. But I can’t say I won’t have a bit of ache as I’m dropping them off at school in an hour. (Oh, crap, I’ve gotta go rouse them from their beds.)
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
permalink: https://theoffparent.com/loneliness-of-spo/
Caveat: After drop off this morning, I stopped by the grocery store for a few things. And this morning for some reason I found the women fondling the broccoli very hot. Maybe it’s the fact that so many of them were wearing Lulu Lemon yoga pants (either heading off to yoga or just completed a few downward dogs) and looked flexible as well as beautiful. Perhaps it was the fact that their presence in the grocery store at 8:45 in yoga pants pointed to a stay-at-home lifestyle. [The one I couldn’t quite manage.] Either way, my eyes were wide open. And the woman in the nutrition bar area was more than happy to share her preferences and her son’s preferences in energy bars. Confession: women in Lulu Lemons seem tastier somehow.
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
The Monday Morning Drop Off and The Longing of the Off Parent
My daughter saw this picture and headline above on my posterous site. “I know what that means,” she said. I laughed. “What does it mean?” At 9, she has been sharing more of her understanding of the world. “It means, for now. Eventually you will park on the side when you’re making room for a girlfriend.”
This post was written as a response to a reader’s comment. You can see the entire dialogue in the comments of this post: Putting Your Foot (Fool) Out There – Online Dating in Perspective
+++
Wow, H. You seem to have started a wonderful dialogue with yourself (and me) as a result of posting on The Off Parent. I salute you. And welcome the interaction. Here’s the crux (for me) of what you said:
“And then soon, I forgot the ‘longing’ of wanting something/someone else. My life as it is today, perfect, with my children, as they are my family now….Just like your happiest hours on Thursday nights (forgive if I got your name for it incorrect)…well, that is my life, every day and night.”
I appreciate the Happier hour of Thursdays. And I feel the tweak of my happiness every Friday morning as I drop them back at school. On the weekends when they will return to me Friday afternoon I have a nice routine, I finish my work around 3pm and I take the rest of the afternoon off, after I pick them up at 3:30.
This is such a weekend. Full. Complete. Completed. I do understand your fullness. When we are together there is nothing missing. We are a family as I envisioned it. Except of course, their mom. But of course things are MUCH easier without her, for us. There is not one single argument about cleaning the house, about chores (we have them, yes) about what we’re going to do on Saturday. This core unit has a connected and free form flow that probably drove my ex crazy. She much preferred the work plan model.
The longing for me, takes place, as it will tomorrow, when I drop them back at school on a Monday, after our full family weekend. It is that morning, as I pull away from school that I feel an ache.
Why did I, how did I end up in this “missing” place? It is a familiar feeling, but I no longer welcome it. I acknowledge the ache. And I can understand my past history that is riddled with so many “missing” moments. And for today, I move away from that HURT as I drive away from their school and them.
It is THAT longing that holds the key to me for what I am missing in the rest of my life. I DO want to be in a relationship. While I get so much joy and fulfillment out of simply being DAD, I am hungry for a companion. That longing that you have learned to forget just might be a key to the relationship you want as well. It’s easier to keep driving away from their school and the ache and just carry on.
Later in the day your THREE return to you and you are full up in the activity of FAM again. Mine do not return to my fold until the next Thursday evening. And this coming Thursday, that glimpse, that ONE NIGHT and MORNING, is all I will have of them for the entire week. And the rest of the time I am what I call, The Off Parent. Both physically (they are not with me) and mentally I am OFF.
I love having entire weekends to plan activities alone. Time and options I never had while married. But I also wish it were not so. I was content wrapped in the everyday details of being Dad. Now I don’t have that luxury. Perhaps I am pushed out to learn more about myself, my needs, my next plan or dream. Certainly, that’s what’s happening. But the reality is I LONG FOR MY KIDS when they are not here. And to a lesser extent, I can feel that I LONG FOR A RELATIONSHIP again.
There is no real reason to put up with red flags the new experimental relationships. What’s the point? If there are too many fouls, you pick up and move along.
So, H, perhaps you will find the longing in something as mundane as a painful shoulder that needs a strong and warm hand to knead and rub it. For now, you can put heating gel on it, or ask one of your kids to beat it for you. (that’s what I do.) But if you can listen to the ache, only if you want to, you might find the energy behind the longing. And at this point in my life, I am finding that ache-to-energy to be quite powerful and quite transformative.
I am becoming someone else. I am expressing all sides of the joy and pain, here on The Off Parent. I am leaving all of my grievances behind. And when they show up I’m putting them to rest by journaling them here.
I am excited that you have found the reason, the energy, to post such a reflective comment here. I hope you continue. A dialogue is forming between us. Another wonderful and interesting development from writing this down. The hard stuff and the good stuff. The dark sex stuff and the vulnerable stuff.
Thank you for joining in the dance with me.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Thursday Happier Hour and the SPO (Standard Possession Order) Morass
There is a business networking happy hour that happens once a month on a Thursday. And I’ve never made it. I probably should make it.
But when the world shifted on its axis and my kids orbits suddenly had large periods of time on the dark side of the planet, Thursdays became my joint-custody Standard Possession Order day of the week. You’ll get to know and love the language. SPO – standard possession order. And First, Third, and Fifth is another common process. And your attorney will probably want to start with the SPO and make variations from there. It’s all been worked out ahead of time for our benefit.
No sarcasm meant. But there’s no way to be grateful under the circumstances. But the kind counselor we went to for Divorce Counseling was happy to tell me, “It’s a pretty good deal for dads.”
Not being up on the literature or common practices I had my heart set on 50/50 down the middle, rotating the kids out very other weekend. This other 1, 3, 5 seems to be easier for some reason, but it does cause some unexpected problems. The minute you look to enter the kissing pool again, you’ll discover that if every dad has the kids 1-3-5, then the divorced moms have their kids exactly opposite. (grin)
So you want to date someone. Um, every single weekend you have OFF she has kid duty. I think back to that moment when Dr. Knows Better kept saying, it’s easier for everyone. I kept asking “WHY, what makes it easier?” If you have the same feeling, you might keep asking until you get an answer, or you and your soon-to-be ex decide on an alternative. Sure it made it easier on the doc, but now it’s a bit complicated if I want to meet someone after work for drinks.
The corollary to this law is kind of funny and painful at the same time: When your ex starts asking for changes in the schedule, it means they’re fucking somebody. Excuse me, “dating,” somebody. I mean, think about it, are you going to get into it with your ex over switching up the schedule if there isn’t some damn compelling reason?
I’m just pissed it’s happened twice from her side so far and nonce from mine. But I’m over all that jealousy stuff. Really. Over. It. She can DO who ever she pleases at this point, I’d rather DO someone else as well. So best to take my bitterness and get in better shape.
Oh that’s the one great thing Dr. You’re Getting a Divorce did set up. In our plan we cannot introduce a “dating” partner to our kids until the “relationship/dating” has been steady for six months. That’s awesome right. It sure helped my piece of mind when my ex-y started a rebound screwing of a plumber from a few towns over that first month after the divorce was final. At least she waited until it was final. I spewed a few spiteful barbs at that time. And thank goodness I got my ass into a divorce recovery class soon after.
Another funny moment happened about three months ago, my daughter was playing with my iPhone. She loves them and was looking at my pictures and stuff. (No surprises there. Think twice about taking those candid shots on your phone, won’t you?) And she noticed a few TXT messages coming in from a *Debbie.* And at one point she squealed , “SWEETHEART.”
Um, I had some explaining to do.
So I talked it out with them and now it’s sort of a running joke. “If I had a girlfriend, which I don’t, I couldn’t tell you anyway, but this woman, is not my girlfriend.”
At this point they roll their eyes. And one of them will say something like, “Yeah Dad, we don’t believe anything you say about that anyway. Because you can’t tell us.”
It did give me some satisfaction txting the ex-y, “I had the 6 months chat with the kids. It went well.”
Of course the hidden message was, “Cause there’s someone else…” But I left it unspoken.
And that’s the final piece of advice on this subject. NEVER fire the sharp barbs at your ex-y. They never hurt her as much as they hurt you. Being mean or mad at her is only a symptom of your unfinished emotional work. It never helps. Yes, I know, sometimes it feels good.
And that one I sent in regards to the plumber (nothing against The Plumber with the Dragon Tattoo) “WTF? Do you think this is a rebound? He’s not even in our TRIBE.” All I could think of inside was, “Thank god she can burn through this one without having to bring the kids into it.” And sure, it was over in less than a month, but I was hurt and freaking out a bit. And living at my sister’s house, for crissakes. Not a happy situation.
So the email arrived today for the happy hour tomorrow night, and I had a moment where I contemplated getting a sitter… And then I smiled and thought about my HAPPIER HOUR. With my kids.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Why Blog About This? What’s The Point?
Two summers ago, my ex-y was hipped to this blog. She called on the phone.
“I saw The Off Parent.”
“Okay.”
“And as a parent, trying to trust you, I want you to take it down.”
“You’re right,” I said. It was a very low point for me. “I’ll take it down right now. I’m sorry.”
+++
And then something happened a few weeks ago. I was thinking about a post, I was angry with my ex-y (go figure) and I wanted to write about it. I remembered how my depression returned with a vengeance right after the conversation above. “What was the point?” I asked myself.
And as I was walking across the parking lot of the local grocery store, I said, “When my kids are grown up, I want them to know the truth. I want them to understand what I was going through.”
The point being, my kids are on the internet. They are not searching for me or my blogs. And this blog, The Off Parent, would be hard to trace back to me. You can do it. There are some threads. If you really wanted to.
BUT why would my kids be searching for a blog about divorce? Um, unless they are searching for a blog about divorce. (Good point.)
My friend said to me, “Do you think Bob Dylan’s kids have heard Idiot Wind?”
So this is not for them, this is not for you. This is for me. I am attempting to share the truth, and release the bitterness and sadness, so that I can heal and move on.
This is also a document that will be revealed. I’m sure it’s my ex-y’s worst nightmare. Well, sorry, hon, it’s up for keeps this time. Oh, and it’s not for you, either.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
Info Source: Sara Dylan on Wikipedia
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Ferris Bueller Gets a Divorce – My Dad’s Divorce Blog – The Movie
My Dad’s Divorce Blog ™, a major motion picture in development. (Today I found a link to the original shooting script from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.)
I kid. But I imagine it would make quite a screenplay.
The pitch: “Ferris Bueller gets a divorce.”
+++
Staring as DAD, Matthew Broderick.
see the Ferris Beuller reprise commercial from Honda.
+++
And his beautiful ex-y, Sarah Jessica Parker (uh, sure, she’s actually married to the guy above – similarities to ex-y acknowledged)
+++
The ice breaker Felicia Day
wait… maybe Suzanne Vega would be better
click for “If You Were In My Movie”
+++
The love interest Mary Louise Parker (I’ll admit I have a thing for dark hair.)
+++
Young Son is, of course, played by Justin Beiber.
+++
And Young Daughter is played by Zendaya Coleman from Disney’s Shake It Up, cause we’ve gotta have a Disney tie-in.
+++
The Med’s Doc in Suite 404 is played by Lawrence Fishburn.
“We’re going in without pills this time.”
+++
The Talky Doc is played by Johnny Depp.
“And how did that make you feel? Do you know what John Lennon said about his divorce/separation from Yoko? (pause) The separation didn’t work out.”
+++
Liberal, Progressive, Spiritual, mentor, and Methodist Minister is played by Nathan Fillion (the Firefly dude)
“There’s a dark forest, and a lot of sad feelings. Light a fire, or shoot your way out of it.”
+++
And then again, maybe the Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along-Blog is the better format.
click to see dr. horrible in action
With this much fun, it’s bound to be a hit. Strippers, Online dating. Random sex. Recovery. Parenting. Ex-wives and ex-husbands. Now we just need someone to option the script. Takers?
+++
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
@theoffparent
Related Posts:
- I Want To Thank You for the Divorce
- Things Broken and Unsaid
- Evolving Single Dad: Failure to Hopefulness Again
- What I Need To Tell You: Take Heart. It Gets Better.
- Happy Mom Chat About How I Got Here: What I Figured Out
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
Anger is Energy – If You Don’t Thrash
A fish caught and out of the water on the grass has two options: 1. thrash: jump, struggle, flip, flop; or 2. breathe.
Eventually the fish will die if not returned to the water. But the fish has very little to do with its survival at that point. You might say it’s up to God, or the fisherman, which to the fish is sort of like God.
Anger today is a good thing. It reminds me I have feelings and energy. It reminds me that I still care about finding a better life for myself and my kids. My ex-y can find her own way.
But thrashing against the obstacles is a waste of energy that could be used elsewhere. And one of the greatest drains of that energy is anger at the ex-y. I guess she did the best she could. I mean, that’s how God would see it, right?
I tend to see things a bit differently with a little distance. BUT… anger at the choices and changes that have already happened, do little to inform or direct my efforts at moving forward. What anger can do is motivate my ass into gear. But I have to make sure I make use of that motivation in productive rather than destructive ways.
Even if she has requested changes or been mean and contradictory to me, that’s not my problem. That. Is. Who. She. Is.
And the anger I have around her behavior cannot be fed back into the system to change things. The more I wanted the marriage to work, the more I demanded for changes, the more I thrashed in some ways. I was not aware that she had already left the marriage. I was not clear that the death of her sexual drive was more about her than me. And while I did thrash against both the sexless marriage and the end of marriage, I was ultimately powerless to get myself back into the warm water of our early relationship.
So today, I am angry. A friend sent a picture of my daughter that he found on a random simcard. My beautiful life is there in hi-definition as I am lifting my smiling daughter into the air and kissing her belly. And there is a sliver of my ex-y’s face in the photo too. You could almost miss it.
And I was immediately sad, not mad. The imagined life, the dreams at that moment, frozen and captured in a moment of family joy. And the anger is about the betrayal of both my daughter and myself by that remote face with the beautiful smile and eyes closed.
She made the decision. She gave up. She walked into a lawyer’s office to get her “options.” And all of our lives are altered because of that decision. And the wonderful little girl in the picture now has a distant father. A father who is there as often and openly as possible. But I can feel the tug on her as she reaches for my hand in the car, walking to the grocery store, when she claims to have a stomach ache every Friday morning so maybe she won’t have to go to school and she can stay at my house.
But I could not change the trajectory once the new departure point was set in motion. I can, however, understand that I was not ever going to be able to change my ex-y into being the touchy-feely person I wanted her to be. She’s much more comfortable in the confines of an excel spreadsheet.
So when the warmth was sucked out of the marriage, there was very little left if I was not generating it. But for my little girl and my son, I can generate twice as much love and holding as before. I can show my daughter what a Dad is like that shows up and says, “I love you,” all the time. I can provide the reflection to my kids that they are loved. I can make them feel loved. I can still hold them in the air, metaphorically, and kiss their childish bellies.
I will not change. I will not let the bitterness or anger get in the way of me loving my kids with everything I’ve got.
AND… I will have an opportunity to share that with another woman at some point. I know it.
If I can just breathe and not thrash.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Just Being Dad Is Enough: A Hot Summer and a Ghost Horse
Living at the crossroads of sainthood and bullshit
Since my divorce, in August of last year, I have been rebuilding my life and my relationship with my kids. Too much time at work, too many economic ups and downs, too much stress, have all brought me to this point on the journey. Today.
As I was walking alone in my new neighborhood this morning the slowness of the activity and the drowsiness of the heat had me recounting summertime with my Dad. And the contrast between those very sparse memories and the more generous memories I am working to create with my kids on Fridays and alternating weekends this hot hot summer.
My new neighborhood is very conducive to bikes, so when she is here, my daughter and I ride every morning, “before it gets too hot.” And I have seen streets and areas we might never reach on foot. And we zoom together around the quiet streets. Fearless. Explorative. Together.
And my son and I often go for walks, since he does not like bike riding at this point. We mostly walk to the lake/pool neighborhood complex, and occasionally to the convenience store where he partakes of his favorite summer drink, the mango slushie. The last time it was just my son and me, and we were walking along up the hill in the picture above when he noticed a horse.
“Dad, that’s a horse in that yard over there.”
Sure enough, there was a large brown horse staring at us as we puffed up the hill in the heat towards the mecca of slurpiedom. We stopped and said a few words to the horse. He said nothing. And we walked on.
On our return, the horse had moved out of sight and we talked about how wild it was that a horse was “just standing there.”
Now every time we pass this place on the road we look for the horse. My daughter and I ride by the field looking for him every day she is with me. She was disappointed not to have seen him. We are both hopeful, but so far the horse has not reappeared.
So this magical moment reminds me of the optimist’s Christmas joke when the child is given a bucket of horse poop as a Christmas gift. He opens the present and laughs, “I knew there was a horse in here somewhere.” A nice summary of making the best out of a bad situation by keeping our perspectives on the positive side.
And here’s one other thing that I find entertaining. The name of the street to my house is San Juan, or Saint Juan. (As if…) And even better is the cross street that accurately marks this crossroads in my life, is de vaca, or “of cow.” Or as I refer to it, at the crossroads of sainthood and bullshit.
UPDATE 7-29-11: This morning, Friday, the three (plus dog makes 4) of us trekked to the local taco trailer for breakfast. And along the way we saw:
Again, the horse said nothing, but we are almost certain that we saw an actual horse and not some mirage from the heat. My son said he saw the horse breathing.
We were blessed with one other creature (our dog Scrambles, pictured below on his favorite chair) who enjoyed the walk as much as his ride back on my daughter’s shoulders.
We’re pretty sure the dog didn’t see the horse. There was no acknowledgment of either one by the other.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Pine Tree Air Fresheners: A Cultural Difference or I Just Don’t Get It
I just don’t get it.
I was sitting outside enjoying a frozen custard with my daughter this afternoon. We were behind Sandy’s and two cars pulled up to the curb next to us. Both cars had Little Trees air fresheners, one yellow (I guess lemon) and one red (but it wasn’t cherry).
And we were enjoying a sweet moment together all of us. The crummy speakers at the back of the restaurant were putting out hits of the 80’s, the weather was so summery, except it was only mid-eighties and not mid-hundreds. And the car with the red Little Tree had it’s windows cracked about 4 inches. Even though we were a good 15 feet away, I could not escape the pungent wreak somehow still wafting out the cracked windows and messing up my vanilla custard.
I was a bit stunned. I have been known to have a sensitive nose for things like perfumes and potpourri. But we were outside, a light breeze on an all but perfect Sunday afternoon, and the smell of a gas station men’s room was right there with us.
I didn’t mention it to my daughter. No need in joining her in my frustration. I made a mental note, and let my mind focus on something else as my daughter started asking questions about the grackles and where they lived and how they might talk through holes in the electric wires they stand on.
It really was a perfect moment. As we sat there talking about the bird’s communication techniques I noticed three more cars in line to get burgers or ice cream with the little stinky danglers hanging from their rear view mirror.
As my daughter and I got back in our car, I noticed the lack of perfume smell. Maybe a little hint of 3-year old leather seats, but then we haven’t hit the heat yet.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
The Sound of Snow. “The kids will probably be home soon.”
click to view video on vimeo
In the last winter before the fracture, we had a great snow storm in Austin. This is my report from the front steps of my castle. At this moment I was so happy. So peaceful.
At this moment my then wife, was consulting with a lawyer to understand her “options.” I would never have this calm again.
A dad enjoying the moment, celebrating the moment, and anticipating the return of his ecstatic kids. It was a great afternoon. My ex-y didn’t return until later in the afternoon. And things remained upbeat.
I know, someday my daughter and son will read this. Long after the pain and misunderstanding is passed. “What really happened, Dad?”
I can only tell you what I know. I can only share what I was doing and feeling.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Missing My Dad and Becoming a Better Dad on Father’s Day
Several months ago when my 25+ year mentor died of cancer I took my kids with me to the wake. I thought it was good for them to be touched, ever so lightly, by the idea that people die. And I knew that they would bring a bit of kid-light into the house while we were there.
Yesterday when I showed them my post about LiveStrong and my dad I was slightly surprised that they had no idea what the yellow wristband meant. They had not heard of LiveStrong. (of course, they are 10 and 8) And explaining my idea for remembering my father over the next 30 days, they both seemed distracted, or uninterested. I was important. But the concept of this grandfather, never met, who died of some disease, not really understood or felt, was a bit too far off for a Saturday afternoon. (understandable)
And then I asked them if they remembered the afternoon we visited the man’s house who had recently died. They both did.
“It’s sort of like that. He’s gone already, but we still love him and want to remember him.”
And then we were off to the swimming pool on a 105 degree summer afternoon.
Today is Father’s Day 2011. My father has been gone since I was 21 years old. I sometimes envy friends who still enjoy dad-time. But mostly I am happy for them. And I look for my dad-time in others. It is not often that I look for dad-time by being reflective of MY dad. I spent a good deal of my 20’s and 30’s doing that.
But today is different. Death has spirited off another wonderful man and I am left fatherless again.
What I want for my kids is to have much better memories of me than I do of my dad. And in the shortness of it all, if I only had another 11 years with my son, for example, I really need to make it REAL. And part of that realness is self-awareness for me about my father, feelings around the loss of my father, and even in some ways a better awareness of the cancer that took his life.
While I was at the coast with my kids last week I made an impromptu PSA about wearing sunshirts in the summer. It wasn’t a publicity stunt. It was just a moment where I woke up on the beach and said, “Wow, if my dad had been wearing these kind of shirts, if we’d just known…” And in my sharing fashion I wanted to honor that thought.
This 30 day memorial is similar in its discovery. I am not doing a “branding” experiment, but branding is something I do. It’s something I understand. And the LiveStrong “brand” is something that I am quite curious about. And I’m in marketing. So when the little yellow wristbands took over the country I was fascinated by the program, message, reach, and impact of the concept. I didn’t join in.
So today I’m joining the LiveStrong army. I don’t know much about LiveStrong or all the things they do. But there are two significant things that connect us. 1. I understand branding and the development of social communities; 2. my inclusion in the LifeStrong family is as simple as putting on the yellow wristband. As a marketer I really am curious about the “value” of the yellow wristband in generating awareness for LifeStrong and cancer support and community.
As a person who’s life has been impacted by cancer, I really want to feel the connection with others. I want to talk about it. I want to hear about their stories. I want to connect. And from my limited understanding of the LiveStrong mission, I think this is one of the main objectives, I want connection.
So today, in honor of my dad, I’m putting on my LiveStrong wristband and I’m going to tell his story, Dan Jones’ story, and I’m going to LISTEN. Most of all I want to listen. To the connections that are formed by such a simple symbol. A thin yellow band that took the world by storm.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Feeling Again or NOT Feeling Again
See if you can feel the irony of this. I am picking up my kids after school at my former house. And the dogs have gotten into the trash in the kitchen. So what do I do, clean it up? Make it a little more messy? Ignore it, not my problem.
Well, she is nice enough to let me use the house as a pick-up zone. It’s good for the kids. So I do a partial pickup. Coffee grounds and trash off the kitchen floor. Sweep, but not mop.
So we’re waiting 20 minutes for me to take my daughter to Brownies. Cause my ex had a business trip and it IS my day. We hustle up to the playground and there is no one in sight. We drive over to the park and it is completely empty. Turns out they are inside at the playground in the MUD office. We figure this out about 20 minutes into the meeting.
The plan was for my son and I do to a quick grocery run while they were doing girl scouts. Problem was, by the time we got her to the right room, there were only 30 minutes before the meeting would be out. So we couldn’t even get there and back in 30 minutes. So my son and I were left to our own devices. He drew and I fuddled with my Blackberry and wished it had a real browser. And tuned in to all the beautiful women coming to the playground with new offspring. Oh yeah.
So at the same park where I was a Den Leader with my son in Cub Scouts, I was now simply waiting in the park on a beautiful day, looking at beautiful women, and grooving on the pictures my son was drawing.
I guess we could have gone back to the house. It’s HER house now, but it will always be the house. Much of me is still inside.
And I give thanks that my ex is not bitter and angry or she’d have my shit in a storage unit. As it is, I am still looking for a place to live and all of my furniture and most of my clothes still in her house. She’s been boxing and moving some stuff. But lot’s of me still remains. Almost trapped, in her house, until I can find my house.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff pages
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Gratitude and Platitudes After Divorce
Because we are doing “what’s best for the kids” in all circumstances I can’t simply email my ex-y a Fk You message. We’re keeping everything civil. And come Tuesday I will be released. And I’m kinda happy about it.
I mean aside from losing a best friend. Losing my house of 11 years. Losing my 24/7 connection with my kids. Losing a sexual partner (but of course that happened over a year ago, more or less).
So will I blast her? Nope. Maybe if she ever sees this blog, or I publish it like a book. Perhaps then she’ll get the full message. As it is, I’m kissing her ass all the way to the notarized divorce settlement because I want to be done with it. I want to tell my next date, “Yes, we’re divorced.” And then I want to jump into bed with her.
And I’m not expecting a lot of gratitude from my ex-y either. Seems like she’s feeling put upon by my rush to get divorced. (Uh, hello… 60 days is the law, I’m just asking to get it done with.) But I think her lawyer is settling her down a bit. Giving her an idea of what a good deal she is getting.
I’m not fighting about the value of the house. I’m not asking her to pay me all the cash that she owes me, though my lawyer said this would be a better option. I’m not asking for any considerations. I’m just trying to make it easy. Easy on all of us, really.
So as I walk away next week I’m grateful that we were able to do this without a drawn out battle. And someday, I think, she’ll realize how loved she was and regret the selfish and self-centered boot she gave me. For me, and just for today, I am grateful that we are nearly done.
I also don’t get to tell her that my lawyer charged me a total of $500 for the entire thing. I’m pretty sure she’s paid several thousand in her need to have her lawyer CCd on every email I sent. That’s her deal. But it does give me a grin.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
