I was reading through the Chump Lady archives again when I came across a comment.
I remember six months ago, my best friend said to me as I was sobbing on the phone with her, “In six months you will feel so much better and your life will be so much better.”… sure enough, on the six month anniversary of DDay I had an insanely fun first date and didn’t even realize that the six month “anniversary” of the emotional apocalypse had passed until the next morning, when I woke up laughing hysterically. It’s amazing what getting a vampiric asshole out of your life does for your happiness.
When I look back at my own six month “anniversary” I realize I was finding out he had quit his job of fifteen years. I was finding out he had moved out of the state. I spent a week crying, not knowing if I was going to have to pull my kids out of school, completely upend their lives, and move in with my mom. I had no idea if he had received his bonus. I had no idea if he was going to screw me over when it came to me getting my half. I didn’t know if we were going to be able to pay off the pool as outlined in the court order. No insanely fun first date for me! Nope, just tears and fears. Hey, that would make a great name for a band!
Ten months after DDay (to the exact day!) I found out he’s lost his new job and isn’t planning on sending me anymore money. About a week later I realize he’s going to play the long con and do outpatient therapy until we get in front of a judge. I have to break the news to my kids that they are going to be uprooted again. And not only are we moving but we are going to leave behind almost everything we own! I sure could use that insanely fun date, or a fantastic dinner out with a great group of friends. Instead I get, “Hey, how about another shit sundae?”
Perhaps it is because now, at the eleven month marker I am currently going through all the rooms in my house and deciding what to discard, what to try to sell, and what I’ll take with me and store, but I am not feeling like my life is so much better and I certainly don’t feel so much happier than on that evening back in August when my life was blown apart. In fact, I’m looking at working a low paying job that will barely pay my bills, even with overtime, much less feed my kids or God forbid, allow me to buy them something they need or want! Perhaps I’ll make some new friends but I’ll be so fucking poor I won’t be able to go out and do anything with them. I listed all those great restaurants we have access to now, but again, I’m going to be so fucking poor I can’t take my kids out to eat. I’m going to be signing up my kids for free lunches and waivers on their book fees. Oh that is the life! Welcome the poor kids to the neighborhood, everybody!
My kids and I have no home to call our own; we are moving in with my mom. It is her house, not ours. I will probably never have a home of my own again. I am selling off almost all of my possessions and the few that I am keeping are going into storage. So no, I am not feeling so much better nor am I any happier at the six month mark, or the ten month mark, or the eleventh month mark. He keeps shitting all over me and any plans I make. I am not holding out any hope that things will magically get better at the twelve month mark, or the thirteenth, or the eighteenth or even the twenty-fourth. I pretty much expect things to just keep sucking from here on out.
I would love to think that in another 3 or 6 months I’ll be here raving about my new life. I’d love to think I will find a great paying job that I love and that my kids are happy and thriving. I would love to be able to tell every one of you that I’m doing well with no help from CF and while we’ve had to adjust our lifestyle a bit we’re doing just fine. I would like to be able to report that I’ve made new friends and I’m volunteering and I’m just so busy and happy and my life is oh so full. I’d love to tell you that maybe things won’t be so much better at the six month anniversary, but at twelve months or eighteen months life is fantastic. Maybe it will be but I’m not holding my breath. I know I’ve been fairly upbeat these last few entries so I’m sorry to bring anyone down. It’s probably just the reality of having to go through all my things and sell off everything I’ve accumulated over the last 20 years. Oh well, fresh start, right? Thanks, CF! I hope you get one of those one of these days!