I am exhausted,
fatigued by life,
by the noise and the silence,
the people, and
the empty rooms,
the light and the dark;
by hope and
so worn down by the world
that nothing in it can
refresh my mind from the
I am tired, and there are not
enough hours in the night
for the type of rest I need.
I knew things were too quiet for too long. It was just a matter of time really, before it all exploded again. We’d had a good summer. The first week of school seemed to go okay. But then last night that destructive beast that lives inside reared it’s ugly little head once again. And as always, I was in the centre of its path.
It’s not even the fact that it happens anymore. I think part of me is immune and disappears as soon as it starts to occur. But last night it hurt. A deep, deep hurt that had me laying in bed for hours, face buried in the pillow, unable to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time.
I don’t know what set him off. The boys went to a birthday party and by the time they got home it had all changed and I was greeted by the following three text messages:
-M ate Dora’s head
-M didn’t make “A” hockey
-M won’t get out of the van
That was my cue for ‘get outside and deal with your son because God forbid I be the tough one and make him do anything he doesn’t want to do and upset him‘. So, I went outside and after about 15 minutes he got out of the van. He stormed into the house, slammed the door and the fallout began:
-I hate you
-you are not my mother
-I never want to see you again
-you ruined my father’s life and he can’t do anything because of you
-if you don’t let me go and live with my father I am going to run away and kill myself
Wait a minute….what the fuck did he just say? M, you can’t talk like that and if you keep talking like that I’m going to have to call someone to keep you safe. Part of me didn’t think he was being serious, but part of me was absolutely freaking out. I told him to get ready for bed because he had school in the morning (by this time it was 9:30 pm). He continued to scream at me as I walked out of his room to put his brother to bed.
In the time in between putting his brother to bed and coming back out of C’s room, M had called his father and told him that I was going to call 911 because he wouldn’t go to bed. Then he threw the phone at me and told me his father wanted to talk to me:
What the fuck is your problem? You’re going to call 911 on him? What kind of mother threatens to call the police on their child because they won’t go to bed?
I didn’t say I was going to do that. M said if I didn’t let him go and live with you he was going to run away and kill himself and I told him if he kept saying that I would have to call someone to keep him safe.
I don’t really remember what was said in between, but suddenly I’m on speaker phone and his wife is screaming at me:
-you’re so fucking stupid
-what kind of person are you?
-you don’t deserve to have your kids because you don’t even know how to do it right
-you won’t let him live with his father because you think it’s some kind of competition
-why do you get to make all the decisions about where he lives and what school he goes to and if M lives with us, he’s not going to the same school because I’m not driving to the other end of town every day
-you were a horrible fucking wife to L–you made him sell his house (it was actually his choice and the money was used to pay off his debts), you made him pay to fix up the apartment above his parents (he wanted us to live there for a few years, and I payed for most of the renovations), you made him move to the other end of town and leave his dying mother (we discussed it and he wanted to move as well and it was a whole 10 minute drive away)
-you just used him as a sperm donor and you should be fucking ashamed of yourself
-I would be a drug dealer too if I had to be married to you
-your job was to perform your wifely duties but you couldn’t even do that and if you didn’t want to fuck your husband you should have gone and dated a woman which probably would have been better because you look like a fucking dyke anyways
Like an idiot, I actually tried to say a few things:
-what do you know about our marriage? You only know what he tells you and frankly it’s none of your business
-why are you telling M that I say that he can’t live with you? That isn’t a conversation to be having with a child or in front of a child
-did he tell you he was a drug dealer (cocaine, crack, pot, ecstasy) and that’s why I made him leave? Did he tell you that he left it out in the open where our children were and either one of them could have gotten it?
-did he tell you he left our children at home alone more than once (he says it was only once–like it matters)?
-I get to make the decisions (school etc.) because the courts says I can
As soon as she started commented on what should have been my ‘wifely duties’ and calling me names I hung up the phone.
She sent me a text shortly afterwards:
I apologize for saying all those things. I did not know L left the kids alone and that made me go off that he never told me such a thing. If you can try to understand, it’s my daughter’s birthday and she just had fun and then it was wrecked by M screaming and crying in the van. That’s scary for her. I was vining off that and just so tired of you not sitting with L and discussing options. It’s frustrating. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Believe me, L heard it too.
I didn’t answer her.
M’s dad ended up on the phone again. He wanted to talk to me. He kept talking and I didn’t say a word. ‘Oh, so you don’t want to talk to me now’ he questioned. ‘Not really at the moment’ was my reply. ‘I know that you hate me and you don’t want to talk to me‘ he countered. ‘I don’t say anything about you. I wish you would stop with all the crap’ I answered. He rambled on. I said nothing and then hung up the phone. The call proved absolutely nothing and wasn’t at all beneficial.
L’s wife has sent me some more messages this morning. There are some with pictures of the birthday party and M’s tryout schedule for house league in hockey this week. All of it ended with big smiling emojis. I haven’t responded to any of them. I’m positive I’ll get a comment about not replying and get told that I’m just being immature. I know she apologized, but the comments still feel too close and part of me knows it’s only going to happen again and will continue to happen until they get exactly what they want.
I don’t trust them.
I also don’t feel like I need to justify my actions to her about why our marriage didn’t last and he had to leave. She didn’t live with him and she doesn’t know what he was like when we were together. She wants us (her and I) to go for coffee. She wants to “get some things straight and bury the hatchet”. It feels confrontational (it always does) and I don’t know if I am up for it. I don’t feel strong enough to be able to defend myself if I need to.
It feels unfair. I try really hard not to even talk about them (not even with T) because then it doesn’t feel so personal all the time. I don’t understand why M’s wife feels like she has the right to talk to me the way that she does. I’m just not sure why every time M’s father doesn’t get his way it resorts to me being called names and being told that I ruined everyone’s life.
What about my life? What about all the things he did to me? Why does none of that ever seem to matter? I don’t talk about it, so that must mean none of it happened, right? Is that the way everyone sees it?
People don’t know about the nights he wouldn’t come home till 4 am and that’s why he slept in the basement. People don’t know how mean he would get when he was drunk and how he would call me names and be a little too rough. I don’t go around telling everyone that the day of my father’s funeral, while I was going to the hospital in an ambulance with M because he choked on a piece of melon, his father was off somewhere planning a Superbowl party. I don’t talk about how the weekend M was born, his father was off golfing and my mother drove me home from the hospital. I don’t talk about how we struggled financially after he left because as soon as I got paid he would take over 2/3 of my paycheck out of the bank or how I would pay money on our credit cards and he would spend it just as quickly. I’m not proud of the fact that I had to declare bankruptcy, but I did because it felt like the best decision for us. I don’t talk about how the same weekend he’s with his new girlfriend (now his wife) he’s calling me on the phone and telling me he still loves me and wants us to work things out. I don’t talk about how he threatened to ruin my life if I didn’t give him money when we first separated or how he took back my wedding rings and the jewelry from his grandmother and pawned it off. Or how the police knew he once lived in Toronto and was making trips there with his ‘friends’.
I don’t talk about any of it because it shouldn’t even fucking matter anymore.
I sent T a text last night because I felt just awful about everything and I didn’t know what else to do. ‘Am I a bad person?‘ I wanted to know. ‘There are a number of people you have known who could ask that question about themselves. Let them have that question.’ was his reply. This morning I wanted to send T an e-mail telling him that maybe we should just forget about doing therapy anymore. I have no idea why this reaction would come after a fight with someone he doesn’t even know. T always seems to get the grumpiness fallout after a confrontation with my ex and his wife.
I was also tempted to call in sick to work and just drive away. I wasn’t sure where I would go. My eyes burn and my head aches and it feels like anywhere but where I am would be okay. I still might do it–drive away for a couple of hours. I’m not due home until 4:30 pm, so nobody would be the wiser. Maybe I haven’t done it yet because there is a small part of me that thinks I might not turn the car around again.