Quite possibly on the brink of divorce I consider my looming over the horizon forty-first birthday. Of all the things I imagine being in my life, a middle aged, divorced, single mother of six was not on my top ten list of things I wanted to be when I grew up.
My husband; the man who seventeen plus years ago promised to honor and love me in good times and bad times til’ death do us part; snores quietly next to me. Apparently sleeping within less than thirty feet of me is no longer repugnant to him. Or he’s so tired he doesn’t care.
Part of me is resigned to a life of uncertainty for, at least, some stretch of time. I’m trying to approach it with a positive attitude and focus on the kids and anything other than my failing marriage.
Don't get me wrong... part of me wants to grab that man by the collar and shake him, violently, while screaming.. “GROW UP!!!! SERIOUSLY! You are forty-five God damned years old. Life isn’t always fair. It isn’t always a bowl of cherries. Seventeen plus years I have given you and THIS is what I get???? I don’t think so buddy!!……” But I hold my tongue. Knowing that unleashing this tirade on him will only result in screaming and yelling. The kids don’t need to see that and I honestly don’t have the energy to go through it.
So I smile. I cook. I clean. I do load after load after load of laundry. I read. I play with the kids. I feed them. Entertain them. Worry about them. I try to speak to the buffoon in a civilized way when communicating becomes necessary and I remain as neutral as possible on all topics. I don’t bring up our issues. We can hash those out with the counselor, out of the earshot of the kids.
I can honestly say that I’m not feeling as bad as I was a week ago and I'm feeling much better than I was two weeks ago. That’s all I can ask for.