I thought I’d try something different this Thursday. I was going through my old posts and came across this one where I write about moving and leaving my old life behind. I was actually quite upbeat and optimistic.
It’s really hitting me now that I will soon be out of here. I’ve done some cute “this is our last time here” pictures but overall I try not to get too maudlin in front of my friends. So I shall come here instead to vent and cry. Yesterday was my last Saturday in our former state and my last Saturday to play Bunko. I won high score so it was a good way to go out. And they gave me a gift card and everyone signed a going away card.
That means today is my last Sunday and tomorrow will be my last Monday and so on and so on. Tomorrow, in fact, will be the last time I pick anyone up from this airport. I should probably take a picture. Speaking of which, I need to get out there and take a few. I want to take pictures of memorable things, like the schools and places I hung out. I have some already but there are others I need.
Realistically I know things will be ok. Well, I hope they will anyway. Almost eight years ago I was crying because I didn’t want to move here. My bff and I joked that the state motto was: Hey, we’re not Iran! But I’ve come to love it out here and my kids have come to love it out here, the Boy before the Girl. Then again, he was only 4 when we moved so he doesn’t have as many memories. I have friends. Good friends. No, great friends. PTA friends. Bunko friends. Neighborhood friends. And of course gym parents friends.
Gosh, sitting all alone, cheering my kid on is going to be so strange after years of being with a group. And traveling. That was such a huge bonding thing. No more travel. At least not like that. And I think that’s one of the things that made us so close. Lots of times we would do at least *something* together. It wouldn’t necessarily be everyone, but one or two of us would get together and explore. We saw so many fantastic things, especially in our second and third year of optionals. We had such a fantastic time in Seattle last year and a great time in San Diego this year. Vegas was fun last year, until the Girl got hurt. But even after, we went to the team dinner and she rode the rides at the top of the Stratosphere with her teammates. Nashville this year was fun even though we didn’t do a lot with the team since so many family members came down to support the Girl. I’ll miss the big team dinners when we traveled, and our smaller team dinners after a competition in state. I wonder sometimes if she’s still going to love it and have the passion for it when she no longer has her teammates. They’ve been everything to her these past seven and a half years, but especially these last three or four. She’s at the gym 23 hours a week during the school year. Those were the people with whom she spent the most time.
As for me I was active in PTA. I formed a Bunko group which I loved. I lost a dog and a cat out here. Gained two new dogs. Of course, my husband also had an affair with a skanky little whore. My relationship with his family has been destroyed by this. So I suppose I can look to this move to a new state as a fresh start.
No more being in the house where it happened. No more of my husband being in the same office or sitting in the same plant where he and his whore texted back and forth. It’s a very small consolation considering I’m not really bothered by being in the same house or him being in the same work space.
I’ve really enjoyed my time here, even with the bad things that have happened. I try to stay positive and tell myself I wasn’t looking forward to the move here either. I hope I make new friends, although if I’m honest I’m really tired of starting over. I hope my kids fit in. I hope they make friends and love it out there. I won’t cry for them until it’s apparent things are bad because otherwise it’s just wasted tears. I would say I hope my husband is happier but the truth of the matter is there is no hoping about it. He’d damn well better be ecstatic out there after dragging us across the country and making us leave lives that we loved behind. Especially when I’m forced to now live five or six hours from the whore and will have to drive my daughter to a town with the same name as the whore’s town! He’d better be so fucking happy he can barely contain himself.
I will end on a positive note. I’ve come to realize it’s easy to recognize everything I will miss. The beautiful mountain views, my friends, PTA, Bunko, Cafe Rio, Kneaders, Zuppas, Village Inn. Lots of restaurants. LOL. I’ll miss all the kids friendly places, the close water parks and the amusement park. I think I may even miss all the season passes we used to have. I’m definitely going to miss all of my daughter’s friends. Those cute, sweet girls that I’ve watched grow up over the past four to seven and a half years. And I’ll miss my son’s friends, too. I had boys running in and out of my house all the time. I actually miss that.
But what you can’t see, can’t know, because it’s in the future, is everything there is to look forward to. When I left our last state I was in tears, worried about my kids fitting in, me leaving behind church, volunteering at the school, MOPS. I couldn’t see everything that I would gain- my new friends, my kid’s new friends, PTA, Bunko. All the things I’m sad about leaving behind now were hidden from me at the time. So I try to stay positive and believe that this next chapter in my life will be amazing as well.
Looking back on this makes me so sad for the person I used to be. I didn’t want to move. I loved my life out there. My kids loved their lives. But CF was miserable supposedly and because I loved him and wanted him to be happy, I agreed to this move.
Oh, there was a little more to it than that. At one point I wouldn’t have agreed to move at all, but that was a very brief period. In fact, it was during the summer of 2013, when he was carrying on his emotional affair with Harley and I didn’t have a clue.
But then he was outed and I thought things were going well between us. So I told him that we would all be happy no matter where we were as long as he was happy. I was willing to start all over and give up so much if it meant he would be happy and he would then invest in his family.
Obviously that didn’t work out well. We weren’t out there six weeks before he was complaining about his job and whining that things weren’t going his way. Picasso was bawling the night before school began, so nervous about starting at a new school. He pointed out that no one had sat next to him at Back To School Night. We tried to explain that everyone was new to that school and no one was really sitting next to other kids since they were all with their parents. He was no longer playing hockey, no longer playing the cello. He had a tough time fitting in at school that year and spent many mornings having a meltdown. He frequently complained that he had no friends at school. I had nothing to do; I was bored out of my mind and had no friends. I lost all my volunteer activities and couldn’t find anything new to replace them. The only one really happy was Rock Star who had fit in seamlessly and was taking her school by storm.
I suppose that’s why it’s so difficult for me to try to imagine a positive future. I did that when we moved the last time and it was basically a disaster. I moved and my husband began a downward spiral which resulted in a stay in the psych ward a mere six months later. He battled one illness after another and ultimately chose to cheat on me and try to find happiness with another woman. My kids’ lives were torpedoed- first when we moved and then when they found out we were getting a divorce. I spent most of the first year unhappy with my life, dwelling on the EA, and watching my husband break down. If it wasn’t his social anxiety then it was his drinking and then his supposed PTSD. At the conclusion of that first year I learned my husband was having an affair. So the second year I spent trying to keep afloat, trying to keep some stability for my kids. I was cut off from over 50% of his paycheck for 4 months and then I had to try to pay 100% of the bills and 100% of the kids’ needs on 66% on his paycheck. I found out he resigned from his job of 15 years and moved out of state; I had no idea if he was going to keep paying support or not. Then four months later he resigns again and tells me no more money will be coming my way. At the end of our second year there we were having garage sales, selling off furniture, and loading our possessions into a moving truck so we could make the 600 mile move in with my mom, blowing up my kids’ lives again.
I have learned the hard way not to say, “What else could possibly go wrong?” or “How much worse could it get?” The answer to either of those questions is never pleasant.
I did want to showcase this though because it points to a time in my life when I was optimistic. I was determined to make lemonade out of those lemons. As I so profoundly stated: I’ve come to realize it’s easy to recognize everything I will miss…But what you can’t see, can’t know, because it’s in the future, is everything there is to look forward to. When I left our last state I was in tears, worried about my kids fitting in, me leaving behind church, volunteering at the school, MOPS. I couldn’t see everything that I would gain- my new friends, my kid’s new friends, PTA, Bunko. All the things I’m sad about leaving behind now were hidden from me at the time. So I try to stay positive and believe that this next chapter in my life will be amazing as well.
Little did I know that when I moved I was not going to find happily ever after. It seems to me that moving turned out to be one of the absolute worst decisions, right after marrying Cousinfucker, I’ve ever made. It turns out there was nothing to look forward to. There was nothing to gain and nothing was hidden from me. I left behind a wonderful life and I exchanged it for upheaval, tears, a whore, uncertainty, divorce, and financial ruin. I could say that with this new chapter unfolding I will choose to believe it may be amazing as well, but I tried that once before. It blew up in my face. I could say it couldn’t possibly be worse than what happened last time, but I know what happens when I say that, too. It always gets worse. Instead I’ll simply say: Like it or not, I’ll live.