and learn to fly...
It's coming upon a year. It was last October when I told my (then) husband that I wanted a divorce. It was heartbreaking for both of us. Even though in the past year so much had been done (and provoked)... I thought the conversation would occur much easier. But, it wasn't easy. We had built a life together. And however dysfunctional that life had been for the most part, it was still the only life I had known.
The only life our children had known.
I married him only a few months after my 18th birthday and our baby girl was barely 8 months old. We had a traditional Catholic wedding ceremony. It was what he wanted. It was how he was raised. I remember not wanting to make a big "fuss" out of things. It was NOT a huge wedding and I think the entire thing cost less than $5,000. I think the bar tab at the reception was the most pricey part of our budget.
We did not have a honeymoon.
He fell asleep before I was finished undressing and brushing my teeth.
After twelve years, five kids, a dozen affairs (some his-some mine), and a year in therapy I finally was able to say "this just isn't healthy for anyone."
For months after our divorce he would go through periods of extreme hostility towards me... then... swing almost without warning to this other person who would profess his undying love for me. His mother died. We cried together. Then he started to pull away. I felt it. I felt a distance start to grow between us. The 2 hour long texting sessions stopped. He stopped asking if I wanted to stay for dinner when I picked up the kidlets. He stopped bringing me "extra" of whatever he had.
And I let him. I let him find his wings. I heard he was dating. I was too.
When I first met Ky, or rather... saw her - he never really introduced me to her - I texted him and told him congratulations, and that I was happy for him. Because... I was. Happy for him.
Learning to fly.
It's been a year now... and I can watch King of Queens without crying. Even though at times he was an emotionally abusive mind-fuck... I couldn't watch "our show" for a year. But, Kevin James is not dead to me. He lives on.
This past weekend was rough. My first Halloween as their single mom and S as their pseudo-I-hope-to-be-step-mom. Last year, he took them trick or treating while I stayed home. We were not yet officially divorced, and I had not yet moved out. This weekend has been so hard for me. Maybe for them too. Maybe for him.
But we're flying... and with that scariness is also excitement.
I've never felt like this. I've never known I had these wings...