Tell Me About It

The kids and I arrived home last night to find Andre sitting on the curb. (For those who don’t know, Andre is my 15 year old foster son whom I had custody of from Dec '06 - March '07. He was returned to his original home in October...which is right next door to me...a story for another time.)
He didn’t look good. He literally limped over to me and it was clear he was sick. He was waiting for his ride to take him to therapy.
He said he was sore from basketball, but he just didn’t look well to me. I had groceries in the car and offered him some nectarines which he gratefully took. I can’t tell you how wonderful it felt to take care of him, just for a minute. To give him a hug and a kiss and tell him I love him. To see him cup two nectarines in each hand. To feel his soft cheek on mine and see him smile.
And I love that boy so much.

This morning my daughter asked me "When is Daddy coming back home to live?"
I was rushing around, doing the morning thang and the question came at me like a bullet. I knew there was no dodging it, and that “I don’t know” was no longer going to cut it. (As my therapist said, “If YOU don’t know, who does??” Good point.) So I said, “Daddy’s getting an apartment.” She was not having it. She stomped her feet. “I know that but Daddy can STILL come home. And Daddy IS coming home to live! It was just a FIGHT Mommy! I don’t care about this “ADULT” stuff!”
Oh, man.
She left the bathroom (my kids LOVE to talk to me in the bathroom, particularly when I’m GOING to the bathroom) and set to pitching a fit in the living room. I held her. Let her cry. What else can I do?
There are no words to explain.
Hell, someone explain it to me, PLEASE!
I kissed and stroked her soft hair. Squeezed her.
She said, “It’s just so hard.”
I said, “It’s one of the hardest things you’ll ever have to go through.”
And my lovely little lady looked up at me, tears pouring down her round cheeks and said:
“Tell me about it.”
And we both kind of laughed.
God, I love her.

My friend S (and my friend J!) is going through a similar experience in her marriage right now. We both can’t believe it. How did this TNT go off in both our lives at the exact same time? She has been available practically every single time I’ve called, and I call her a lot.
She makes me laugh and cry and then craugh and ly until it gets all mixed up. We both understand that this is EXACTLY what life is. The dark and the light. The tears and the giggles.
We crack each other UP and we confirm our fabulousness each time we talk.
It seems we say to each other every day: "It’s all good." And with a friend like her, that continues to be true.
(BTW, I could write twenty times twenty blogs about all my terrific friends and just might someday...so thank you EVERYONE!)

Tonight is mediation. Session 1.
Holy crap.
I find it hard to breathe when I think about it.
My dh sent me an e-mail yesterday that was quite nice. It said a lot of stuff about how great I am, and how much he loves me, and how sorry he is.
I really couldn’t read it though.
First, it just plain old hurts too much.
And two, it doesn’t make any difference if I read it or not.
I can’t/don’t put much faith in this kind of love letter anymore (I’ve gotten many through the years and I can see that is part of the pattern now too…he’s very good in print).
Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad he feels this way. It does make me feel nice inside. Temporarily. It’s better than being hated certainly. But it is not symbolic of any kind of shift in him. I can’t afford to hope that this changes anything. He could still go off at any moment.

And third, somehow, between the lines, I can still read his criticism of me and that causes such a flare up in me that I have to mentally throw ice water on myself.
He writes, for example: "I know you don't want me anymore."
AS!
IF!
I WISH that were true.
Gaaaaawd.

One other line jumped out at me:
“The greatest, most loving challenge of my life is to let you go.”
I’ve been thinking about this.
For me it initially begs the question: “You’re letting me go? As if you had me to begin with.”
But that’s no way to be.
Yet, I look at that line and think: the greatest and most loving challenge he could have attempted would have been GETTING HELP for his anger and depression.
Can I get a witness???
And I keep coming back to that "letting me go" bit. Gotta think on that some more. Something sticks in my craw about that.

Then again, on some level, I agree with the comment too, because letting my dh go has been a great expression of my love. But an expression of my self-love. My love for myself has provided me with the strength to let go of my love for this man and for my marriage.

And here's how you let go of your marriage:
I had to fill out an intake form for our mediation tonight.
Damn. I mean, really.
A FORM.
A form that asks questions like: "Who was the initiator of the separation?"
"Was the other party initially opposed to the idea?"
"Is there any interest in reconciliation?"
"Do you anticipate a dispute concerning your children's welfare?"
DAMN. Damn. damn.

Perhaps I should just forward them to my blog?
I mean, REALLY!

Love,
Ellen

P.S. OF COURSE, I'll let you know how it goes!