January 16, 2009

They both start with "D"

I had a pretty productive day all things considered. Casa del Chaos really, really needed some attention this morning- I FINALLY finished packing up the Christmas decor (no comment) and folded Mt. Laundry, plus took out a bunch of trash, vacuumed, and ran the dishwasher twice. Then I worked awhile and ran some errands, including a trip to the grocery store.

 

One thing I used to do pre-divorce was meal planning. I would write out a menu for the week using a formula like: ingredients I already had + a few things I needed \ activities of the week - stuff Jackass would actually eat..(my ex wouldn't eat pasta, meat with bones OR leftovers of any sort, which complicated things quite a bit) then I would shop accordingly and all was good. I had kinda enjoyed the freedom of NOT meal planning and eating whatever the hell I wanted (or didn't want, since I got down to a hundred skeletal pounds, yikes) for the first few months of the split and after that, well, I fell out of the habit. Which led to me feeding the kids cereal for dinner last week, which led to Mom Guilt, and look! here I am, back on the meal planning wagon.

So tonight after my smugly organized shopping trip I made an Italian themed chicken, sundried tomato,and basil pasta dish with a white wine cream sauce for dinner. As I was stirring it I had this moment of satisfaction, like, hmmmphhh, this is exactly the kind of meal I love that Jackass would have bitched about, HA! And now I can cook whatever I want, and eat it for three days in a row if I feel like it. 

I served it up to the kids on nice plates with a tablecloth and candles. And as we sat down I had another moment, this one not at all satisfying. 

My divorce is so ugly, so extreme, so bitter. I truly believe that given half a chance, my ex would love nothing more than to inflict physical harm on me. I am scared of him, and with good reason- he doesn't even deny he was abusive during the marriage, and he seems to be unravelling more with each passing day. There's virtually no chance of Jackass and I ever sharing a neutral exchange at one of the kids' graduations, or standing side by side gazing through the nursery window at our first Grandchild. His hatred of me is that intense that he no longer bears any resemblance to the man I shared a good twenty years of my life with. We haven't spoken at all, in at least eight months now, and his life is a mystery to me- I do not know him anymore, in even the most superficial of ways. The man I was married to, simply no longer exists. 

I know people move on after divorces, even ugly ones. I know that time heals. Yet I am almost certain that this is exactly how ugly things are destined to remain for Jackass and I. This is in large part why I stayed as long as I did in the marriage- this ugliness that contaminates everything it touches, this shadow that will fall over every happy moment if my future.  

Sometimes it feels more like a death than a divorce. 

A slow and painful death with a million little endings, a profound and endless process of loss.