Confession #7

I'm sitting with my boys, watching them play xbox games with their brother, who lives 1600 miles away, when I hear Ex's voice on my daughters phone. She has it on speaker. He's outside at the curb waiting for them. They gather their things and say, "Bye Mom," as they walk out the door.
I'm stunned. Numb. What's going on? I was fine. I've been fine for days so why all of a sudden am I wanting to cry. I remain on the couch and begin to discretely wipe away tears that betray me. Several minutes go by and the tears, one tiny trail after another, continue to fall when my 16 year old asks me whats wrong. "Nothing, I'm good." I reply, amazed he noticed. He doesn't buy it. Soon all three boys are inquiring and I finally say that I'm fine, and that it doesn't matter, it's silly. A moment later I feel emotion rising and I go to my room, again trying to reassure my boys who aren't buying it.
In my room I'm sobbing. One part of my brain is swimming in emotion as another part is standing back asking, "What in the hell is going on?" I'm caught off-guard by my own emotion. I'm not in love with Ex, so why? I get irritated just by his presence. He's a zealot. An abuser. A no-good lying, smooth-faced hypocrite! So what is going on?
I don't know how long I lay there sobbing when I finally recover enough to decide I need movies. I get up and go to the video store and rent five movies. "The Color Purple," "To The Wonder," "Fried Green Tomatoes," "It Happened One Night," and then, don't laugh, "Marry in a Year." No, I don't even want to marry in five years but Patti Stanger gives a lot of great advice that empowers women so I was hoping to glean some of her wisdom to pick me up now.
I go home, watch the first movie, and tell my boys not to wake me up when they leave in the morning, and fall asleep.
Saturday morning I hear the boys. They've not left yet and I've not slept in as hoped. I go out, and say goodbye to them, reminding them to behave and have a good time. They scoff as they walk out the door. I sit down in the living room and begin to escape watching cable.
My mind keeps taking me to Ex. He's probably getting dressed. My little girls are getting dressed with Victims twin. They're at the church by now. Who else is there? What does she look like? I decide to journal when I look at the clock and realize it's exactly 11am. The time of their ceremony, appropriate. I write my goodbye's to our marriage. To him. What would never be. What was. And on with my own life, vowing to love, nurture, strengthen, and heal all the areas of my heart, life, and spirit. 
They're probably kissing now. I think to myself. Throughout the day I'm crying, watching movies, and journaling. In writing I realize it's the final nail in the coffin of my marriage. Yes, I know, I have a lot of "final nails" in my confessions. I'm not in love with Ex, really. It's that my life, the one of having babies with my one true love, raising a family with my one true love, growing old with my one true love as we watch our grandchildren play, only marrying one time...that's all gone. And being loved, honored, and cherished...that was over. 
My children come home with the dog and ask what I'm watching. It's the "Marry in a Year" dvd and I try to brush it off as something it's not when my daughter picks up the box and reads it. She laughs saying, "Dad didn't need that dvd." Stab in my chest. "What do you mean?" I ask nonchalant, thinking we've been divorced for several years before he got remarried, today. "Well, he and Victim haven't even known each other nine months and now he's married!" she states with a brag-ish tone, pounding the knife further into my chest. 
Confirmation that he never really loved me. Confirmation that I was replaceable. Confirmation that I was right, as I had suspected throughout our marriage. That I was just a body filling a position for him so he could live life as he wanted.
They say you can only know love to the degree that you love yourself. I know that Ex is very limited. He couldn't give me what he didn't have. What I so desperately needed from him. To be loved, accepted, cherished, adored, supported, respected, honored, and so much more yet...I have to apply, just as in algebra, to the right what I've distributed to the left. I can only love others to the degree that I love myself, and...I can only know that love if I am it's true counterpart. 
More tears, more sadness, but no more blame. At least not for this. If I had loved myself the way I desired to receive love, the type of love, maybe I wouldn't be here. Lucky me. Armed with this new and painful truth, I could make changes in my life. More importantly, I could make changes within. I have already begun to celebrate and honor myself in small ways. Now I had a mission to fall in love, with myself, completely, effortlessly, cherishing, adoring, supporting, respecting, honoring, and valuing, every aspect of me. As Carl Gustav Jung says, "Who looks outside, dreams, who looks inside, awakes." Good morning.

Confession #6

It's the week of Ex's wedding. I get an email from him stating that he will pick up the girls Friday night after work, the boys Saturday morning at eight, and that I will need to pick them up after the wedding or they can take the bus home. Yes, "the bus." Now, this is his wedding. His children are celebrating his union with a woman they barely know, and he can't arrange a ride home for them?
I respond asking what time the wedding is over. He doesn't know. I reply telling him, "A bus is not acceptable or appropriate. These are your children, celebrating/supporting you, and Victim. Certainly that is worth a ride home. I'm fairly certain Victim's family would only be too happy to take them home."
He promptly responds accusing me of being a hypocrite. I should be more supportive of his marriage, and that they're leaving right after the wedding. He will, however, "find someone who is willing and supportive to do this."
Now, I don't know about you...but that was the straw that broke my camels back. I've ignored his rude, scathing, accusatory emails to this point but I was done. In previous days he had refused to help buy clothes, and supplies for the children to start school. He tries to prevent me from participating in my daughters baptism. His fiance is trying to give me advice on co-parenting. I end up keeping his dog, as well as the children, on his weekend to have them so he can go on a honeymoon! Yes, even his dog. And I'm not supportive?
I wrote back and told him everything I've been holding back for years. Well, not everything but the things that came to mind, he got it. And at the end I wrote, "Bottom line...it doesn't matter what you say about me, how you act towards me...God knows the truth and you can't pull the wool over His eyes." Then I quoted, "The Color Purple." You know, the part towards the end where Celie is leaving Albert and he goes to hit her. She turns around and says, *"Everything you've done to the kids and me you've already done to yourself and until you do right by us, everything you even think about will crumble."
Honestly, it felt good to finally tell my truth and not worry about upsetting the apple cart. I've tried for all these years to keep it amicable between us and for what? It's like I was one of those crazy people trying to keep a bunch of plates spinning at the same time as well as juggling a bunch of knives. I don't recommend it.
It's Thursday and I am feeling pretty good. I kept thinking I should prepare myself because my ex was getting married and well, shouldn't I be upset? Nothing. Not until I hear his voice Friday afternoon on my daughters phone. She had it on speaker. My eyes began to water, and I began to fall apart.

*I've altered the quote a bit to fit my circumstances.

Confession #5

The night before my daughters baptism I made sure she took a nice shower, washed her hair really well, and afterwards had a pampering session as we watched television. I painted her toes, and fingers, braided her hair, and let her play games on the PS3 while I sewed her baptism dress, washed everything so it was a crisp white, and made her two headbands. A white one to wear into the waters, and another, white and pink, to wear with her other dress after the deed was done. ALL by hand so she would know how special she is to me.
The next morning we had a nice breakfast. I got her ready, and then it was my turn. I didn't know what I was walking in to that day so I left no stone upturned. I shaved my legs, pumiced my feet, exfoliated my entire body, and face, and moisturized head to toe. My makeup deliberate, and my hair styled, I felt at peace as I dressed knowing that I am who I am, and that that is enough.
As I walked into the building my older daughter was waiting for us and escorted us to where the meeting would take place. Having new contact lenses on it takes time for my eyes to adjust to light and distances, I only saw a blurry figure of a woman standing by the door and she says, as I near, "Hello Lapin." Like, dun, dun, duuuuuuuun. I said her name questioningly. "Yes." She confirms. I stretch out my hand to her, big smile, "It's so nice to meet you. How are you?"
As my eyes focus, I see she is indeed short but does not possess the young, model type figure I'd envisioned. She has only a touch of makeup on her hooded eyes, and dry skin leaving her thin lips bare. Her hair is thin, dark, and straight. Cut at nape with long layers, parted to the side, and ratted at crown. She's wearing a long straight knit skirt to her ankles with a jumper over a short-sleeved shirt, and flat shoes. She doesn't look 15 years younger, maybe 8-10 at most. Looks like a sister-wife. Her expression is that of a deer in headlights. Initially my heart goes out to her. She seems to have as much anxiety as I do about this event. But I soon realize she is a master at playing the victim.
I put my daughters things in the womans dressing area by the baptismal font, and as I return, see Ex in the doorway with his next victim. Upon making eye contact with me, he squeezes her shoulder, moves his hand to her neck, kisses her temple, and turns away from me, smiling. I feel it important to note here that Ex is not one for PDA's. In fact, on our wedding day the photographer wanted to take a picture of us kissing and Ex thought that was inappropriate.
I walk into the room and it has a lot of people in it that look similar to Victim. I suspect, as I take a seat, that she's brought her entire family. Throughout the baptism I am smiling at my daughter, Ex, Victim, her son, and her family. I would have smiled at Hades if he were there but alas, it was only his spawn, the ex.
In observing Victim and Hades... I mean Ex, I notice he's playing the role of protector/lover and she is fabulous at looking timid/helpless with her eyes huge with fear at the prospects of what I might do or say to her. Her family there in numbers, ready to rush to her side at any given moment as they whisper among themselves, and secretly hope for drama. Mind you, I have no family in attendance except for my children. I stand alone with the exception of a new friend I made who generously came to support me. There was so much more about this event than a simple baptism. It seems to me, a silent battle of sorts. The face-off to size each other up before the war begins.
At the end of the baptism, Victim is sitting behind me, and her mother is standing next to her. I turn and ask if this is her family. She says yes and introduces me to her mother, father, twin sister, and other siblings, all their spouses and children, and points out the grandparents. When the mother introduces me to the grandparents she starts with, "Mom, Dad, this is Lapin, Ex's ex..." and stops abruptly, not wanting to say, "ex-wife." I laugh and put out my hand to the grandfather assuring her, "Isn't this awkward. Don't you worry about it." and to the grandparents, "Hello, I'm Lapin, the ex-wife. You have a beautiful family." 
I believe there were 15-20 people from her family that were there. Good thing voyeurism isn't illegal or they'd all be in jail. They weren't there to support my daughter, it was morbid curiosity. I felt their eyes on my back as well as saw their judgments in their eyes the entire time. 
The future victim-in-law asked if she could take a picture of my daughter and I. I consent and she explains further saying, "Oh and I'm going to get one with Victim and your daughter, and then Ex with your daughter." I pose for the picture, and then later as I'm talking with Victim and her twin, I notice the mother is still taking pictures, one person at a time with my daughter. I suggest to Victim that it would be nice for us to take a group picture. "After all, it would be so much better for the children if they see us together and relaxed. Don't you think?" I ask smiling at them as I nod my headup and down. Something I learned in sales training. "Well, a lot of people have left already." She informs me. I tell her it's their loss and so the remaining voyeurs gather with me and my daughter, and we take a group shot with my trusty iPhone.
I soon leave with my one friend in attendance and we go to lunch. As we wait for our table I notice that I'm shaking, and apologize. She smiles at me and says something along the lines of, "Honey, with that performance back there, your nerves had to let loose at some point. You were amazing! I didn't know a person could act with such grace and dignity under such stressful conditions. You radiated when you walked into the room and no one could not notice you. You are stunning, and I'm not just saying that." I must confess, I needed to hear her say that and was relieved when she repeated it again later.
In looking back at all that happened, I feel stronger, more sure of who I am, and more determined to be better. The Ex and his fiance are in the honeymoon phase of their journey together. She manipulates, and controls her family, and him, with her "poor me, my ex-husband cheated on me and I am a fragile little troll who needs to be protected," act. She knows exactly what she's doing and it serves his purposes well. Little does she know, however, that infidelity will look pretty benign once he lets loose his true self. You can only hold your breath so long before you have to let it out so as to take another.
Later that night I'm alone with my thoughts, and feelings. My girls are with their father, my boys are out with their friends, and sadness sets in. Not because I'm in love with Ex, or want him back. But I now realize I began the process of mourning my dream. What would never be. Could never be. Not with anyone. 
And so begins the letting go, the tears, the loss, the healing.
The following week when I met with a friend she asked me about it and I said, "I was 90% perfect." I tell her everything and she asks, "So why only 90% perfect? You did great. What aren't you telling me?" I bite my lips smiling before I confess, "My line about taking a group picture for the sake of the kids...it was true but the main reason was, I was trying to figure out the whole time how I could get a picture of her so I could show it to everyone." We busted out laughing. 

Confession #4

When I first left my marriage seven years ago I had people tell me to not believe anything he said, especially promises he made. Even seven years down the road. I was advised to go for the jugular, and don't look back. I was warned that he would do things that were, "out of character," and that I wouldn't recognize him. To my embarrassment, I confess I didn't heed a single warning. After all, I had been married to this man most of my adult life. We shared the highs and lows of life. We had children together, and bought our first home... together. Certainly I knew this man better than any of these jaded opinionists who claimed to know my future regarding divorce.
If I could go back in time I would tell my younger self that he's not even the shadow of the man I thought I'd married. That the reasons that caused me to leave him in the first place were but a mole hill compared to the person I deal with today. To stop mothering, and nurturing him as I had throughout our marriage and let him take care of his own needs. That the delusion of an amiable, and respectful divorce that put our children's needs ahead of our own were just that, delusions.

Statistics:

• A woman leaves her marriage an average of seven times before she actually divorces/leaves him permanently. Personally, I don't remember. Seven sounds about right.
• A woman stays because the abuser will frequently promise that it will never happen again; she wants to believe that this is true. My experience, it was never true.
• An abuser rarely has a criminal record. Mine didn't.
• The cycle of abuse: Tension building > Violence > Honeymoon/Reconciliation > Tension begins to build again and the cycle repeats.

- Information courtesy of www.capsa.org

I want to be clear that there are many good men out there who have suffered at the hands of a woman. My experience however is as a woman, and for that reason alone speak from a woman's perspective.
The temptation is high to hate the opposite sex and blame their gender for a conglomeration of things, if not everything. Being the mother of boys I chose to resist this generalization. I found, in doing so, that it improved the quality of my healing process, and aided in my ability to see flawed individuals, and not flawed genders.
Bottom line...I will never regret trying to be a healthy, kind person towards the man whom fathered my children however, I will forever regret thinking that I knew him best. That I did not heed the warnings so kindly offered, and that I didn't realize that while I knew him in the role of a married man, I knew nothing of the man going through separation and divorce.



*Opinionists, I realize, is not a real word but I liked it so please forgive the self-indulgence.

Confession #3

I left religion about the same time that I left my marriage which translates into several years. This weekend my "baby" will be baptized and her father, who strangled his teenage son, will be performing the baptism. Bite tongue. It is at this event that I will be meeting the future step-mother of my children. Their father has done a very good job of keeping us apart.
I've mixed emotions. If she's kind and genuine I can overlook the fact that she is 15 years younger, only gave birth once, doesn't have wrinkles, and most likely still has perky breasts. If she is catty, and insincere, then I will find it difficult to be in her presence. She has already tried to offer me, via the ex, co-parenting advice. Together, this week, they have tried to prevent me from participating in my daughters special day and, while I don't know their motives or intentions, I think it's safe to say that my feelings, and position as the mother are not a concern.
I know that the fiancé is going to have her parents there as her mother is in the program so I wonder who else I can look forward to meeting. I've thought of every critical thought or comment that anyone could have regarding me and I have to say I feel pretty beat up. Shame on me. 
Honestly, I have a ton of thoughts, and feelings about this. I've known it was coming since February and while I wanted to lose weight for the event and be at my best I will be showing up with silver roots and only five pounds lighter. I hate that I'm not able to just let it go. People I've tried to talk to about it don't get it. They think I should just get over it and move on. After all, for several years he's been wanting me to remarry him and I not once faltered in my rejection of him. He's finally moved on...yay. So why does it feel like I'm the one that has been rejected? Why does it hurt that he's found someone 15 years younger? Why am I so threatened by someone who is so blind as to marry someone with a pending trial for domestic violence and assault?
I wish I could answer those questions because I'd share them with you. The only answer I do have is bottom line, I am who I am and this is what it is. I'm there for my daughter and her baptism and that is it. There will be no drama, at least from me, and I will do everything I can to be kind and gracious even though I feel like I'm the one walking into the lions den.

Confession #2

I've been legally divorced for several years. In that time my ex has repeatedly asked me to come back to him with my answer consistently containing one consonant, and one vowel. This last January he started dating a woman who was born when he was 15, and that was preparing for her Sweet 16 birthday when I was pregnant with our second child. It means that this younger, shinier, newer model has come along and enchanted my two little girls, 8 & 12. And that when their father came to get them this last Friday and announced that they were getting married on the 31st of this month, our wedding month, and my baby started jumping up and down with excitement, I wanted to kick her feet out from under her. Instead I just stood there and smiled congratulating him.  Couldn't they get their own month? I wondered.  I guess my 'best wishes' encouraged him because he asked me to keep the kids that weekend after the wedding so they could have a honeymoon. He didn't say, "honeymoon." He didn't have to.
One would question whether I was still in love with him. I'm not. I am, however, in love with the idea of love, marriage, and family. As I sat in my living room later that night, numb, I realized the final nail has been placed and it's time to bury the past. I cried for what would never be, could never be, not with him. I mourned time lost, dreams dashed, and crazy ideas like, he'd get help for his problems.
So now I pass the torch on to an unsuspecting, foolish young woman who refuses to deal with what is in front of her. Whose own marriage ended in adultery leaving her with unresolved issues of her own, yet wants to jump blindly into a life with a man she only pretends to know. A man whom she defends in spite of his arrest three short months ago for strangling his teenage son. A man who very well may likely strangle her nine year old son when he too becomes the same age our sons were when his abuse of them started.
What's the saying, "When one door closes, another opens?" Well, I believe that is me walking out and her walking in. I'll leave mine unlocked...she's going to need it.

Confession #1

Why do I refer to myself in French as a bunny?
When I first left my ex I took my children to counseling to support them in this wild journey popularly known as, "Divorce." When the counselor asked my children to think of an animal that represents their parents my oldest daughters answer, who was six at the time, meant the most to me. She first described her daddy as a dragon because, "He is big and loud." She then said her mother, moi, is a bunny because, "she wont fight."
In the days that followed me leaving the dragon I worked very hard to not fight in front of the children for obvious reasons. I walked away, if I could, or just stood there and calmly asked him to leave trying to tune out his verbal onslaught.  I remember my baby, who was 18 months, holding on to my leg crying and I, trying to console her as the dragon exhausted his flame thrower.
Knowing that my children noticed my efforts made my resolve that much stronger.
As for why I use French...because j'aime le français.

Disclaimer...I Googled le français so please don't presume I speak it. One day, but not today.