Raging Emotions are Not Effective

  • I am an example to Oliver
  • Oliver is learning to deal with people, interact, have relationships based on what his father and I do
  • If Oliver sees I hate Matt, that will be confusing and damaging to Oliver
  • Oliver may feel guilty or resentful
  • I want a healthy well-adjusted man when I am done raising Peanut
  • Oliver needs his father — the bleep that he is
  • And me
  • for best odds
  • It's about Oliver
  • It should always be about Oliver
  • Am I making this about me? Because it can't be about me anymore
  • I'm a great mom
  • I can do this
  • I know how to take the high road
  • Matt will not figure out his wrongs if I parade them in his face
  • Matt will not take the moral inventory I wrote about him and use it to better himself
  • the best chance of Matt realizing what he did wrong is for me to stay out of it
  • the best thing for my soul is to act like a lady
  • Remember God, trust God to take care of things
  • The more I think about my grievances or the injustices that I have suffered, the more such trials will I continue to receive; (Emmet Fox)
  • You catch more flies with sugar
  • I feel better when I don't express my fueled hurt, pain, anger from Matt to Matt
  • I feel better when I act mature
  • I get more of what i want when I act mature
  • I get more of what I want when I don't cry, threaten, whine, bully, rage, raise my voice
  • Trust that some day, Matt will see it
  • Know that what God has in store for me is as good as or better than what I once had
  • Know that when something is taken, another equally good thing shows up, eventually
  • Know that my time here, our time here, is temporary. Focus on what's in front of me, focus on the good. (crap, isn't that what got me into this mess?)
  • Because it's time for me to act grown up

Go and fix your make up, well it’s just a break up
Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady
'Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together
Even when you fall apart

But this ain’t my mama’s broken heart

All of this is hard to do when my hurt comes to surface, as it will, as is the process of divorce.

I hate him. I hate what he did. I hate how he did it. I hate that he did it. I hate that he's not sorry for it. I hate that he has no feelings about it. I hate that he's not feeling guilty. I hate that his mother still talks to him. I hate that his "mentor" was OK with all this and is still in his life. I hate that he is surrounded with friends who co-sign his bullshit. I hate that he thinks being nice to me makes everything OK. I hate that he thinks I'm the crazy one. I hate that he gets to be a part of this beautiful boy's life. I hate that EVERYONE says Oliver looks like his father. (OK people, you can stop saying that now.)

I cut my bangs with some rusty kitchen scissors
I screamed his name ‘til the neighbors called the cops
I numbed the pain at the expense of my liver
Don’t know what I did next all I know, I couldn’t stop

I saw Matt was back on facebook; his profile popped up as someone fb suggested I might want to friend. No thanks facebook. This was all it took for the butterflies to return. I dealt with his new (used) second vehicle (that he needs for business), his Jeep Wrangler as he arrived top-down at the coffee shop this Saturday. I dealt with his incredibly deep sun tan (his new apartment has a pool). I dealt with his new clothes, his Oakley sunglasses, his trimmed hair and beard, his wanting to (first time ever) wash the sheets at the cottage after he slept there. I dealt with his losing everything for us, financially. I dealt with his being "friends" with other women, his trips to Los Angeles for the Rose Bowl, his countless Packer games and trips to Madison to see the Badgers play. I dealt with every single "mid-life crisis" characteristic that he portrayed. But I'm not willing to watch him showcase his new life and friendships on facebook.

Word got around to the barflies and the baptists
My mama’s phone started ringin’ off the hook
I can hear her now sayin’ she ain’t gonna have it
Don’t matter how you feel, it only matters how you look

I know I can't stop Matt from moving on, having a life, just as I do not want him to stop me from moving on and having a life.

The difference is, I didn't have a choice. It was not my choice to end a marriage. Not my choice to be treated poorly when Matt did decide to leave me but "leave the door open, only a crack"... I never wanted this.

I adjusted to it. I made my life work despite the circumstances.

Yes it took time and anyone who has been reading RP for a while now knows how long it took. I'm surprised I have any readers at all for the length it took for me to finally let go and make my life worthwhile and happy without Matt in it. And it wasn't Matt leaving so much that it was a dream that died, a family, my family, my little family of three.

Hey, look. I'd like to see how easy it would have been for any new mother, in love with her husband and her new family, had her husband walked out on her when she thought things were OK, when she had this gorgeous little boy who was just two years old. When they did things together as a family, when they were still in love, when they were happy, so she thought.

Not flipping easy.

It took a while. One year and a half precisely, just to say, "Screw him! I deserve better."

I read a lot of blogs. Not many out there written by single moms. (Please, pardon my bitterness, but I'm terribly sick of the mommy bloggers who's profile reads, "I'm the luckiest woman in the world, married to the best man ever.") Of the few I've found, not many single parents are gracious to their ex's. Not many out there who would have happily taken 'him' back, with unconditional forgiveness.

I am first now, the last 6 months or more, feeling anger. I don't live in it. I don't feel it often. And when I do, it is brief but so very precise, pointed and powerful. I'm aimed, ready to fire at the slightest trigger pull. I'm armed. Not dangerous. But mad as hell.

I wish I could be just a little less dramatic
Like a Kennedy when Camelot went down in flames
Leave it to me to be holdin’ the matches
When the fire trucks show up and there’s nobody else to blame.

I don't realize I have these emotions inside me until my hairs are raised and "he" wants to eff with me again. It surprises me each time when anger asks me to step aside so it can run the show. Even something kind and innocent, which pokes at a memory I thought was forgiven and healed, unleashes the lioness in me.

Then watch out.

When he gets self-righteous. Smug. Uncooperative. Unwilling. Un- anything.

Watch. Out.

When he is kind, generous, thoughtful — those actions heal the pain, even tho Matt has never said he was sorry for what he did or how he did it.

Regardless, I can't let Matt's actions control how I feel. I cannot act on that anger. I have to be bigger than the volcanic epicenter. I have a little boy who needs a father, even if I can't stand what his father did to us. I hate Matt. HATE him for what he did to me, and even more so for what he did and is doing to Oliver.

Powder your nose, paint your toes
Line your lips and keep 'em closed
Cross your legs, dot your i’s
And never let 'em see you cry

He's devoted to Oliver. Yes. He's a good dad in terms of loving and caring for his son.

He's a crappy father because he tore up his family in pursuit of unattainable selfish happiness, happiness that he thinks he can only find by leaving me and being a part-time father to Oliver.

That's where I am today —on the bitter side of the cucumber.
And tomorrow I may (and will) feel differently.

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She said it once here on RP, and I'm askin' her to sing it again. Take it away Miranda!