I am weary.
You know it’s not in my nature to fight. That’s why you thought I was the perfect wife. That’s why you were so surprised when I left. I’ve rarely agreed with you, but with enough pressure, I would generally acquiesce to your demands.
I suspect it’s also why you always wait until the last minute to cause a problem. Because you know the pressure will get to me. And that in the past, under extreme pressure, I have given in to avoid fighting.
This time, I’ve spent days with my mind spinning. With effort, I resisted the urge to shout and swear and threaten. Because although it’s not in my nature to fight, showing my anger sometimes is my first instinct. If I show my anger, you win.
But I know that anger and aggression only make things worse. When we both get our backs up, things get…stupid.
So I’ve spent the weekend chewing on the problem. My physical countenance bears it. My shoulders and jaw are tight. My stomach is acidic and churning. My head is cloudy from lack of sleep. I’m limping as my foot swells.
My head is full of the “what ifs”.
“What if” you withhold the children from me Christmas Day? Even though our Christmas schedule was negotiated as we finalized our divorce. My lawyer advised me not to have it nailed down in the court order. “You’ll have to go to court to change it”. And I went along with him, as it wasn’t in my nature to argue. Even though every fiber of my being told me we’d end up where we are today – with you denying that we have an agreement.
“What if” I need to call the police to enforce it? Will they? I have a strong argument. Documentation of our agreement. Proof that the children have passed in the same manner for the past eight years.
“What if” calling the police is the wrong idea?
“What if” the children’s Christmas is ruined along with mine? While you laugh at the chaos that you’ve created. Revel in it. Punishing me for leaving you. Not realizing the harm you’re causing your own children. That in hurting me, you’re pushing them away. Because I’m part of them. And they’re part of me.
“What if” my husband realizes that this cycle is never ending. That as hard as I try to control it – you will keep me spinning back and forth in and out of court.
“What if” this isn’t what he signed up for?
“What if” he can’t bear it – and wants to leave? Where will I be then?
“What if” I lose myself. I give into the rage. And hurt you. Or tell the children what an ass you are. And how difficult you make every single fucking thing. It’s not who I want to be. Ever. I’ve committed to being the “sane” parent. But you make it hard to maintain it.
“What if” I take a deep breath.
“What if” I remind myself that the children are the only important thing here. And that if I have to miss one Christmas, it’s not the end of the world. I can go back to court, show them how unreasonable you are. I can get a strictly enforceable order – so I don’t end up here again.
“What if” this too shall pass.
“What if” I need to let this go. And it will all work itself out.
Can I do it?
I am weary. But I am strong. I can do this.
I have something to fight for. Even if it’s not in my nature – I will.
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