I’ve looked back at my blog today and realized that 3 of my 8 posts have been about my mother-in-law.
No more. She’s not worth that kind of time from me or you. So, I apologize for making you waste your time reading about her.
Let’s get back to why we were originally here – my impending divorce.
Some days it’s like he doesn’t want me to go. Yet he was most adamant in saying that I had to go. Trust me, I got the message. In fact, last night, he was in the hallway walking his mother out the door and he pointed at the family pictures I had hung on the wall and he stated, “You can take all 3 of these,” pointing to the pictures that had all four of us in them.
Oh, those pictures will go with me and be stored somewhere. I can use the frames for something else.
But it seems that since he asked for the divorce he talks to me more freely. Last night he told me about his really crappy week at work. And it was a bad week for him. His shop is full of screw-ups and was left in tatters by the last supervisor. Kinda like Obama inherited a crappy economy and gets all the blame, my husband is taking the heat for something that isn’t his fault. No matter how bad of a husband he was, he is a very good supervisor and two months in this shop is not going to allow him to fix all the problems. Not that he isn’t trying, but it just isn’t going to happen that quickly.
So when we went to bed last night, he wanted to cuddle with me. Weird. He’s never done it before and it’s not something I’m a big fan of (I really need my space when I’m trying to fall asleep) and it just seems weird when he’s asked me for a divorce.
Then it hit me – I was a warm body and he needed the comfort. I might as well have been a stuffed animal for all the emotion he has vested in me at this point.
I don’t know how to feel about this. Should I be angry that he’s using me for his own comfort? Should I allow him to do it so that things stay calm and happy in the household until I can get the means to leave? Call me wishy-washy.
One part of me wants to tell him to go screw himself. Another part of me, that part that has 16 years of my life vested in him, wants to let him do it because of the past that we share. I just don’t know how to handle it.
Maybe sometimes it’s just as hard to do the forgetting as being forgotten.