"I'm not sure the best way to say this, but I can't pretend I love you no more, babe..."
Lady Gaga - "Second Time Around" (Unreleased)
“What happens now? I’m not okay. And if I scream, you walk away. When I'm sad you just want to play, I’ve had enough, what do I say?”
Lady Gaga – “Fun Tonight”
For some reason, I think I’d always assumed that the end of a marriage would be loud. You know…lots of shouting, fighting, and general noise. Maybe even the sound of objects being thrown and broken. I'm sure a lot of times it is that way, but I can't say why I’ve personally formed this impression over the years. My own parents fought a lot before their separation and eventual divorce, but although there was plenty of yelling, I can't really say I remember it being that dramatic, and it was never violent. I was only about seven at the time. That was just their normal.
In my case, the beginning of the end was far too quiet. Hushed, like a parent carefully tiptoeing out of the room after a long struggle to get their fussy baby to sleep. The sound of words left unsaid echoed only in my own mind. From the outside looking in, things might have even seemed peaceful and normal, but the near silence was deceiving. For me, it was deafening, yet I had no choice but to let it continue long after my decision was made.
Months ago now, I started working on a project that both Non-Monster and I had been putting off literally for years: cleaning the junk out of the back room that was supposed to be my office/computer room/writing room. Setting it up for that purpose was almost complete when we discovered that I was pregnant with Mini Monster. The walls had been painted, carpet installed, my big executive desk assembled, a new desktop computer and printer set up on the desk, art posters framed and ready to hang on the walls, and a small recliner bought and placed there for me to use when reading instead of sitting at the desk writing.
A few complications and an order to go on partial bed rest later, my office sat more or less unused. I'd get back to it in a few months, I told myself, after the baby came. I'd write while she napped in a portable crib nearby. Mini Monster, however, hadn’t been consulted when I was making these plans, and as it turned out, she refused to nap in my office. Ever. She hated it.
My books, packed away in totes awaiting the shelves we'd been planning to build, stayed packed away. The unfinished parts of the remodeling project remained unfinished for lack of both time and money to work on them (hello…babies are effing expensive!) and it eventually became no more than a storage room. A packed storage room.
Flash forward to the present day, going on thirteen years later: the project for “someday” has become suddenly urgent. Now, my would-be office needs to accommodate…well, me. Much of the accumulated junk has been moved, discarded, or shifted around to make room for an air mattress, and I've been moved into my new space for a few weeks now. While the ultimate plan is to find an apartment in our current school district for me, Mini Monster and our two cats, that is going to have to wait for a while.
Some time after my “Caught in a Bad Romance” post back in September, Non-Monster and I talked about the fact that things were not as “fine” between us as he seemed convinced they were. He was so convinced of this, in fact, that when I told him I wanted to sit down and discuss some things, he made a crack about “do I need a lawyer?”, and it shocked him when I said the thought had crossed my mind. I was honest about my feelings and some of his behaviors that I am no longer willing to accept or tolerate. At the time, we agreed to try counseling, but after much soul searching, I finally mustered the strength and courage to break the news to him that counseling for the sake of repairing or “saving” our marriage isn’t something that I want. I’m still willing to try it at some point down the road if we continue to have communication issues, but my heart—and maybe more importantly, my gut, or my brain, or whatever part you want to think of as more rational than the heart—tells me that there’s simply nothing left of our marriage that’s worth saving.
It took me a lot longer to build up the courage to have that discussion with him than it probably should have. I found myself hiding, spending as much time away from home, or at least away from him, as I possibly could. Doing more errands In the evenings and on weekends than were strictly necessary. Sitting in my car in our driveway after work, mindlessly scrolling through social media and listening to Gaga for a lot longer than I had to. Once the weather turned decent again, sitting in our garage for hours, listening to more music or playing games on my phone, just to avoid having to spend time in close proximity to him.
In a way, I suppose I felt like avoiding him was the best course of action at the time because I was scared of how he might react to this news. It wasn’t fear of violence or even vindictiveness that kept me silent for so many months; it was fear that I would lose my nerve, give in, and agree to try and work things out. That, I am 100% convinced, would have been the death of all the progress I’ve made on myself during the past year or so. You see, once I realized that I was much happier—both with myself and just in general—when we weren't together, it became impossible for me to pretend otherwise.
Fortunately, so far, my fear seems to have been mostly unfounded. While he certainly isn’t happy with my decision and would rather we attempt to find a way to stay together, he respects my belief that this is what I need to do.
So here I am, in my crowded and still cluttered office, writing this from my air mattress. We are prepared for all three of us to continue living in the house together, at least for the time being, as we clear out the accumulated belongings of three generations of packrats in order to get it ready to sell. We’ve already agreed on the other major issues that face most couples when the marriage ends—custody of Mini Monster, keeping the bills paid until everything is final, dividing or disposing of stuff, etc. Neither of us wants a big, ugly fight. All that remains is to actually file for divorce and go through the required processes to solidify the custody arrangements and child support. Our state doesn’t require any formal kind of “legal separation” before all of this can happen, so it won’t be too long until I am truly a Free Woman.
Before I close this post, my dear Monster family, please don’t think we’ve forgotten or overlooked Mini Monster’s take on our situation. I’ve been entirely up-front with her throughout this process, so none is this is blindsiding her. She is fully aware of where we’re all headed, and she was included in the discussion of our future plans. She has even expressed the opinion that these changes and the bigger ones yet to come are what we all need, and specifically what she needs in order to rebuild her relationship with Non-Monster. We're already seeing some slow but noticeable progress in that area, and I can only hope it will continue.
Wish us all luck, Little Monsters. Love and Paws Up Always, until next time.
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