Anger post-divorce is my new best friend

I have finally entered the anger stage of grief and it feels awesome! I finally have moments of joy, fueled by extreme maniacal hatred of my cheating, lying, good for nothing, waste of air, ex husband, and those brief moments make me feel like myself again. I can laugh at the misery I imagine he’s experiencing (he’s actually fine, in the honeymoon stage with his home wrecking, husband stealing, morally depraved, insecure as hell, devil woman)... and I had too much fun with adjectives and lost my train of thought, oops.

In my fiery burning hatred towards my ex, I can see him clearly for the man that never deserved the devotion I gave him. Ok, to be fair, the first few years were pretty sweet and he didn’t become a useless human being until the kids. So, I can see that after the kids, he entered a downward spiral of ineptitude and the more he sucked at being a father, the more he fell into self-pity and self-realized misery. He just kept quitting and quitting until he stopped trying to help with the kids and eventually stopped being a good man altogether. He took the easy way out, which was to push me and the kids away. He convinced himself that his life was difficult and sad while all he was doing was whining about his lack of achievements.

I mean, 40 isn’t too old to try hard at life. It’s never really too late. But, instead of working harder to save up for a cool midlife car, he convinced himself that other people owed him. To this day, I still don’t really understand how moving to a new continent for me meant that my parents owed him a car. (Man, if he sees this one day, am I dead? Nah, he deserves to die first. Oops, anger slipped out again.)
No matter how bad my parents were to him (not gonna lie, my mom can be quite unpleasant), he should’ve talked to me instead of stepping outside our marriage. You know what? Even divorcing me before cheating on me would’ve been a decent thing to do. Why did he have to drag me down to his hell? I had been supportive (pushed him to get the job where he would meet the Mistress of Evil, dammit) and understanding (all those late nights of him doing “overtime” while I handled the kids and finish all the chores). I was so accommodating that I was essentially a single mom, even before we divorced.

So, dear useless lowlife ex-husband, I hope that you are experiencing even half of the pain I’m feeling . God knows you deserve more, but you’re too weak to handle it. I hope your insecure mistress smothers you with possessiveness so that you can finally see that I was trusting and respectful of your space. I hope that, without me to regulate your temper, you’re making enemies of your coworkers and everyone will learn to hate you the way that I do. I hope that you and your mistress get pregnant so that you can once again experience failing as a father. (Eek, too far?)
But in the end, I just hope that I can still remember all your faults tomorrow morning when I wake up, so that I won’t feel abandoned and alone again.

Life immediately after divorce feels like a nightmare

I want to wake up. I want to open my eyes and have my husband back, the one from before the kids, not the broken shell of a man that’s my ex husband. I want to stop feeling like my life is over, that someone suddenly threw me overboard and left me to drown. I want to stop treading water because I’m just so tired.

I want my ex in-laws to stop calling me to apologize and dumping their baggage on top of the weight I’m already carrying. They can’t seem to understand that I can’t relieve their guilt or sadness because I can’t even deal with my own misery.

It’s taking everything I’ve got to get out of bed in the morning and perform basic functions to keep myself and my kids alive, while trying to put on a happy face for the kids. When I smile and play with them, I can temporarily forget my new reality and feel moments of calm.  But some days are full of sorrow and those are hard to get through. Today is one of those days.

Surgically removing my ex husband from my life

So many articles online relate a divorce to an addiction. They were so right. While my conscience brain knows to stay away, my addiction to my marriage has put me in withdrawal. Can’t eat, can’t sleep, moody as hell. And every time I receive a message from him (not nice on his part, dude needs to leave me alone!), I get a fix and I’m back to where I started again. 

Being married for 8 years means that he’s in every aspect of my life. The idea of removing myself from that, peeling myself off of a wall I’ve been glued onto for so long, is a scary thought. He’s there in the brand of toothbrush I use, the shoes that he helped me pick, the towels that he made his sister bring for us, and even down to the perfect pair of nail clippers that we finally found after years of trial and error. It’s those tiny little details that get to me, that punch me in the gut in the oddest moments. I could be happily watching a movie and a small object in the background would trigger an inconsequential memory and forces me back to harsh reality. And then I’m the weirdo crying during a Transformers movie.

Mom Strength: Taking care of yourself after your husband cheats

(Written before the confrontation & divorce)

Day by day, as a cruel metaphor for my life, my wedding band slips off my finger a little more. My body shrinks a little every day to reflect the happiness that drains from my body. Any other time, I’d be ecstatic at my rapid weight loss. 4kgs in 2 weeks! It’s a true miracle diet!

As one does during a crisis, I repeatedly google for articles and blogs on what to do during this time. How the hell do I cope with this tremendous loss? Every single article says “take care of yourself”. But how? How do I give myself energy if putting food in my body feels like feeding myself cardboard? How do I keep it in if my body rejects it at every turn? Oh, how I would’ve killed for this level of appetite suppression when I was younger.

Before kids, I was a young girl, always carrying my heart on my sleeves, showing the world what I was feeling. I had very low emotional control and lashed out when I was angry, cried when I was sad.
After kids, and after years of putting aside my personal feelings for the kids, I think I've developed a sort of mom strength. It's not just the ability to lift two 3-year-olds at once and hoist suitcases on my own, it's an emotional strength that can rise up and protect me and the kids from harm. I am able to take an emotional beating, cry it out by myself in the kitchen, and then stand up and continue with packing the kids' lunch bag for the day after. While it is out of necessity, it is also the ability to understand that my kids need me to be strong and functional

With this newfound mom strength, I was able to continue acting like a normal person. I found that I could continue driving the kids to school, feeding them, talking to them, and putting them to bed every day. I knew that I would be an idiot to collapse or let myself wallow in my pain at their expense. So, I mustered up all the perseverance I had, the same determination that got me through pregnancy and breastfeeding, and crammed some calories into myself. I took multivitamins to compensate for all the nutrients I couldn’t keep in. I made sure to lie in bed even if I couldn’t fall asleep. I made sure that I was alert enough and mentally stable enough to drive. I asked for help from my parents when I knew I wasn’t up to the task. I took care of myself as well as I could.

I guess the moral of this little snippet is: Do it for the kids until you can do it for yourself.

And the Oscar for Acting like a Good Husband goes to...

His performance was incredible. So good that I think he must have either been playing mind tricks on himself or just gone insane. Split personality, maybe.

He could come home from her house and slip right into Family Mode, pretending to help out around the house (it’s only with hindsight that I can see he didn’t actually take a fair load) and starting big tidying projects, knowing that I would clean up his messes. He’d be so natural that I would be fooled into complacency, even while consciously knowing that this was a cheater who was currently lying to my face. It was so much easier to just pretend, for one more day, that my life wasn’t in ruins and that the man I married matched the facade he was projecting.

I would later realize that I had been slowly gaslit and inceptioned into taking the easy lie and taking on all the blame. I much preferred to believe that my husband was really just an angry and overworked family man going through some sort of midlife crisis; his anger at me and the kids a result of how hard he was pushing himself, and not because he was really done with us. Even after I discovered the truth, I would still fall back into the habit of loving him and enjoying his company. He was a drug that I was addicted to and I couldn’t stop myself.

As with any addiction though, the crash really hurts. Throughout the night, I’d catch him messaging The Mistress. With lightening quick fingers he’d switch from his baseball game to the messaging app and back. He didn’t know I was watching him, but he’d still look around shamefully and sneakily. Maybe he was proud of himself for how good at cheating he was. But he wasn’t. I saw. (I also have video of this, LOL.)

She went to bed every night around 10:30pm (except one time when I messed with her on Instagram, a hilarious story I’ll share next time). So every night after 10:30, I’d get my husband back for 30min before he went to bed. He’d do his pushups (new workout routine, major clue!) and make me do annoying wife things like cut his infected toenails (WTF), lotion his back, trim his hair, and look over his work. I’d do them because I was still investigating him, but I think I died a little inside every time.

This went on for 2 weeks until I went on a business trip and caught him going to her house every day while I was gone. The night he took her out for dinner and a movie was the night my heart died. (I hadn’t confirmed the romantic Paris dinner cruise, the expensive hotels, or the 3 day trip to Hong Kong at this point. I had to entrap him for those confirmations later on during The Confrontation.) He didn’t know that I was onto him though, so he had to keep acting, going as far as to say, “I’m glad you’re back” upon my return. Bullsh-t, assh-le! I know you were still at her house until an hour before my plane landed.

I’ll never know how he did it, how he could act like everything was normal when he was secretly betraying me and the boys. How could he still plan our summer vacation and family visits while living another life as a trophy boyfriend?

It’s just going to be one of those things that I have to live with not knowing. At least I’m not longer married to a psychopath.

I cannot understand why he cheated

I can’t wrap my head around why my husband, the man I’ve been with for 12 years, the man who held my hand when I was shaking during my c-section, the one who happily drove across town to buy me anything I wanted to eat, the one who knew all my hopes and dreams, would be able to hurt me like this. Why would this man, who said he’d love me as long as I loved him, be able to be with someone else? Why wouldn’t he consider my feelings? Why would he hide it from me? Why would he deny it after I found out? Did he think I’d be ok living with a liar and a cheat?

Why didn’t he confess? Why didn’t he say he was sorry right away? Why didn’t he see that I had stopped eating and sleeping? How can the man I thought was the love of my life throw away my feelings like that? How can he profess his love to me after spending the morning at her place?

How did I trust a man like this with my life?

Cheating means he doesn't love you

Anger post-divorce is my new best friend

I have finally entered the anger stage of grief and it feels awesome! I finally have moments of joy, fueled by extreme maniacal hatred of...