Divorce, Single Parenting, Dating, Sex, & Self-Recovery

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A Road Trip to Fantasy and a Drive Home to Reality

This amazing woman hit me on my OK Cupid profile last week. She was very attractive, funny, spiritual, and very confident. After our initial ice breaker email she asked, “So you came to my profile page. Why didn’t you contact me?”

“Simple. Your 187 miles away.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much.”

Thus entered our “sorting it out” phase. And I willingly fell into a 2 hour chat session online with this spiritual kali who was recently returned from India and Haiti and other amazing parts in between.

Jump cut to yesterday.

speeding towards her

But even at 110 mph it takes about 3 hours to drive there. And I’m not very fond of this city. The drive is B O R I N G. So along the way I had a few things to think about. What in the world was I do driving to Dallas? And was this woman I was going to meet, in the habit of manifesting men from within a 150 mile radius. She was quite glowing in her photos.

So I came up with this little matrix, sort of a “how would I evaluate the next lover” SWOT analysis.

Trying to zone in on my next LOVER

At the Jack in a Box I began to come back to earth on my rapid quest. Where this woman fell was somewhere closer to the spiritual over physical. (I do too.) And what our 150-mile-away lunch date would fill in was the details of the other axis easy/stable vs flexible/need.

There are certainly some other variables that are not on the matrix. [+] positive, [-] negative, and [+/-] mixed.

  • [+/-] reminds me of someone
  • [+] sparkles/spiritual glow/magic
  • [-] drugs/alcohol
  • [-] too self-centered
  • [-] never married/no kids

Here’s what I learned. I AM in the mood for a relationship. I am not afraid to quest off in some random direction to see what develops. BUT. The trip to Dallas was more about me than it was about the woman. I love driving. I had a little space to get flexible. And zoom I’m off.

She was nice, but she wasn’t the maiden I was looking for.

Sincerely,

The Off Parent

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Followed by the Black Dog (of depression)

the black dog disappears

He came out of nowhere with a grin and a wild look in his brown eyes. The black dog began following me this morning on my walk. It was as if he was lonely for someone to cruise around with, and he took my singing with the iPod as encouragement. And he was like a shadow.

So much of the time recovering from divorce is about recovering from depression. “Clinical” or “temporary,” depression is a bitch. It keeps you in bed when you should go to work. It makes you eat crap when you should really start watching what you eat even more carefully. And for me, the worst part, it makes ME isolate like a motherfucker. That’s the killer for me.

I’m not depressed at the moment. So I am able to see and respond to the black dog [sadness] with an open hand. My energy level is high, I’m walking, so that’s good, and the music is weaving its tentacles in my brain and I’m feeling quite buoyant at the moment. So where did the black dog come from?

One of the most pivotal moments in recovery is admitting to yourself that depression is a problem. For me, isolation is pretty deep on the list of symptoms. By the time I’m isolating and fucking up at work, the other mechanics of depression are in full bloom.

My check-ins look kind of like this:

  • eating
  • sleeping
  • sexual desire (even masturbation can be a positive sign)
  • laughing or playing
  • calling people back
  • spending time with friends

When any of these balance points gets way out of whack I’m heading towards a wrestling match with the black dog. The last real battle lasted 4 – 5 months and could’ve easily killed me.

So when the black dog of depression is showing itself, I try to take evasive action as soon as I can.

Evasive Actions:

  • go for a walk
  • play a game (online with others if I can’t be with real people)
  • clean up my diet (it’s amazing what junk food and sugar highs can do to your overall life-performance)
  • see if there’s anything pornographic that interests me (if I can get an erection, at least I know I’m alive, I have a desire)
  • call one of my D-buddies (“Um, I’m just calling because I don’t want to call, and I don’t want to get together for lunch or anything.”)
  • meet with my counselor or doctor (talky therapists are critical, and meds doctors are too, if you’ve ever had deep bouts of depression)

The most important thing for me is to stay out of the isolation chamber. That is where I slowly, patiently, kill myself.

So this morning, I’m not feeling much charge from the depressive side of my life at the moment, and the black dog is more of a friend and companion. He won’t come close enough for me to pet him, but he smiles at me just the same. He keeps his distance, I keep singing along to the music on my iPod, and we mosey on down the road together.

And then out of nowhere appears another set of black dogs. The twins from down the street. These guys I know.

the twins from down the street

For a minute I’m not sure if the black dog is going to gel or fight, but I keep walking, imagining they’re going to work it out between themselves.

I look back about 5 minutes later, to see if the black dog is still with me. The three dogs are doing some sort of ecstasy-daisy-chain-circle-dance, They are lost in their dog-ness.

I am happy the black dog has found better companions. I’m not afraid to befriend him. The converse is true. Depression is part of loss. And if you are FEELING the divorce, you will probably feel depressed.

For me, this blog became one of my re-stabilizing forces. I write to process. I write to learn and make sense of what is happening. The first time, when my ex-y asked me to take it down, I was depressed. What I realized only later, was that I was in the early stages of depression. By shutting down the expression of my anger, sadness, and loss; by killing this blog, the first time, I actually hastened my own slip further into darkness.

Today the black dog (of depression) is my friend. I will see him again from time to time. He will travel with me for a bit. And we will part ways when one of us has a more interesting opportunity.

Sincerely,

The Off Parent

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When I Stopped Believing – And Started Growing Up

When Jesus let me down - my parents divorce

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.

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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

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Lullaby – Shawn Mullins “Everything’s gonna be all right, rock a bye.”

“Watch out squirrel!” I Needed To Shout This Today: “Fk You!”

squirrel loses the war

“For some reason I needed to tell you today, that I fkin hate you for giving up on me. And, of course, it is a blessing. We weren’t happy. But as much as I’d like to talk about the sour grapes, I’m still somewhat devastated. You bailed.”

Ah, that anger again. We’re gonna have good days and bad days. And today has been a good day. When I was driving to the store today I saw a vulture snacking on a squirrel. Why this reminded me of my own pain, I’m not quite sure. But today, with an email from you, I learned what it was about.

I am not okay.

And I am fine. But here’s the rub. We were so fkin close to making it. Sure I hid some of my desires and you pretended to still have them for me. And sure the economy has been tough, it’s tough on everyone. And then like the squirrel, I got distracted. I paid attention to your anger rather than my own. And now the vultures are snacking on my heart. [okay, that was for dramatic effect only. let me recalibrate and try again.]

As so many things are coming back together for me, after almost two years of struggle, I am sorry not to have you as my mate to share this wonderful time with. That’s the part that still has some kind of sting. But that’s my shit. And I’m working on it. [here]

In the same way WE were so close to making things work out back then, I am very close today, on both a personal and professional level. Sure, a relationship will follow, at some point, but I’m taking major life/balance things first. And before the divorce was started, when I said to you, “You know we can’t afford TWO houses in this neighborhood.” I was wrong. Sort of.

There’s an imbalance to how all this divorce stuff goes down. I’m not angered by the child support payments. My kids need a lot of stuff. And I’m happy to provide. BUT… Some how I’m now paying TWO mortgages. How did that work? How is that fair? Who’s helping me out?

There’s some statistic about the SPO being about even. But there’s a real big mistake in that logic. HUGE actually. The SPO has this wonderful provision for the working dad, primarily the one who gets the shorter end of the stick on the SPO laws. And this provision has the kids spending an entire month with dad, theoretically during the summer. Um, yeah.

QUESTION: When the fk am I going to be able to afford to take a week off with my kids, much less a MONTH? REALLY! No, Dr. Who-Knows-Best, tell me about that mythical MONTH that helps balance the schedule out the rest of the year.  Oh, and before you answer, let’s talk about how much of the financial burden I’M going to be carrying, in addition to trying to scratch out a living for myself. So, really, what’s the fkin SPO percentage when I can’t afford to take that MONTH off, in fact, we don’t DO that part of the SPO, because it’d be too damn expensive.

Another big shock, if you’re on the mortgage for another house, it’s gonna be harder than hell to afford a new place. Much less, BUY something. And when they are looking at your financial feasibility, they are going to examine your SPO like frikin proctologists. Because, my friends, the dad is getting fked right up the wazoo.

Without going into numbers, let me illuminate the situation.

My child support payments, which include a percentage of my salary AND the cost of healthcare for both kids, is exactly $100 less than my new mortgage. And about $200 less than the mortgage on my old home. So how did the math come out, that we’re getting the kids 43/57 but I’m still paying both mortgages? (Here’s a link to the Standard Possession Order in the State of Texas.) Here’s what the Attorney General’s website says about our great state, to give you the full flavor of the situation here, “In Texas, about 10 percent of non-custodial parents are mothers.” – handbook for non-custodial parents.

Yeah, yeah… Men often make more than women. And yeah, yeah, women often suffer more financially than men in this situation. Fk that, it hasn’t been so in MY CASE. [sorry, i’ll try to quit shouting.]

Here’s what you are going to hear from your legal support team. (her’s and your’s) “The SPO is the way to go. Being the Non-Custodial Parent (NCP) is no big deal. That’s how it’s going to go even if you fight it. It’s just the way it is.”

And there’s going to be this, “50/50 is too hard on the kids. Too much transition. The SPO is better for everyone. It has been worked out over time.”

So what do you do? What did I do? Of course I went in asking for 50/50 and the Dr. advised that my request was more of an emotional matter, and not one that was necessarily in the “best interest” of the child. And “The SPO is the best approach.”

And I kid you not, she said this, “And she’s going to get that if you fight her or not. Most of this is about what she is willing to negotiate, knowing that she would win in court. But neither of you want that.”

And she was right. I was in no position to fight. I was still reeling from the idea of losing something much bigger than a custody battle. I was willing to put everything in the “best for the kids” column, if it meant less time dealing with the trauma of the divorce.

Besides–and this still haunts me–“what she is willing to negotiate.” The assumption, even by this neutral [ha!] third-party was… SHE WINS.

As Dad’s we just need to deal with it. Buck up and be prepared to PAY.

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I’ve been lucky. Even in my devastating depression, surrounding such a depressing event, I got a pretty awesome FT-job about six months after the divorce was final. And I moved quickly to purchase a house on that job.

I have nothing to complain about. I mean, I can rant here, but overall I am personally in pretty good shape. And while my first post-D job only lasted 4 months, I am poised to start some contract work that could put me solidly back in to the black. Where I get to pay both of our mortgages for way less than 50% of the time.

I’ve got a funny way of looking at it: If I had to pay for childcare during all the time I have to myself, I’d probably be paying  A LOT more. So do what you can to get over the anger. And get the possession order that makes the most sense for YOU. I’m meeting a ton of parents who do more of a 50/50 thing. I wonder how that would’ve affected the amount of money I had to pay to my ex-y.

Let me be clear: I want my kids to be provided for. I want to be that good provider for my kids. But… where does it say that she gets a free house in the deal, just for starters? “Because she knows that’s what she’s going to get.”

I’ve officially just burned through my entire retirement savings. I could probably petition the court and show my REAL INCOME for the past 18 months and have the support amount reduced significantly. Heck, I was optimistic when I signed the SPO and decree outlining how much I was going to pay my ex-y for the next 9 years. But mostly I was just trying to get through the loss AND the process of the courts. And of course, everyone counseled me that she would get the SPO anyway, and I should just agree and move on.

That’s fair, right? Fk that! [don’t be a fkin squirrel or the vultures are gonna rip your furry body apart.]

Sincerely,

The Off Parent

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Cherry PopTarts and Love (fathers & daughters in divorce)

There's No Substitute for a Father Daughter Bond

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

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image: my daughter wrote a list of the things she likes about me last weekend