Light on. Light off. Light on. Light off.
"Better, mama?", my toddler innocently asks.
You see, I have been patiently waiting for him to go to sleep for about 2 hours now. We have been having this 'issue' for about 2 weeks. Several have said its probably due to us moving in with my parents. My husband and I are getting a divorce. We are currently separated with me having the kids the majority of the time. It's moments like these in which I really struggle with whether or not I am doing the right thing. And if I am, who am I doing it for? Am being selfish? Am I being cold? Will my kids be OK? I didn't want my kids to come from a "broken" home. That's why I waited to get married and have children. At 25, my 5 year plan was NOT: get married, have two babies, get divorced. It just wasn't the way I saw things playing out. As crass as I can be, at my core I am a hopeless romantic. Please, don't laugh at me! I am. My name is Abby. I am a hopeless romantic. There. I said it. Since getting pregnant and married (yes, in that order), my rose colored glasses have not only come off; they have been torn off my face, bent up, twisted, ran over with my car, and then ran over again. They are FUBAR (F-ed Up Beyond All Repair/Recognition). I have changed, lowered, and completely erased some of my expectations. I have looked past all the crap in order to find something to compliment. At the end of the day, I am deeply saddened by the loss of an ideal. Not the loss of my reality. I grieve something I don't know I ever really had. How is that possible? When it becomes final, there is no hope of it getting better because it's over. I had hope. However, fleeting and minuscule at times, it was still there. Now, there seems to be no hope of it getting better. I think back to all the "lost moments". Moments we will never get back. Moments that we never really had. Moments I wish would fall into a black hole. Yet, it seems the moments that sear themselves into my memory, are moments I don't care to remember at all. When I look back on the short time we did spend together, at the pictures we have looking so in love and so happy...these were all moments created in an altered state. Products of drunken nights with friends. I just had a fleeting thought of a movie called, "Punch Drunk Love". I don't remember much about it, except I don't know that I fully got it. However, if I had to give our relationship a name in three words or less, it would be that: Punch, Drunk, Love. Maybe I should go back and watch it. It may have a totally different meaning at this time. Sorry, I digress...
So, what does all of this mean?? How did I get from my bedtime stand off with a two-year-old to "Punch, Drunk, Love"? (Gotta love ADD) Believe it or not, these things are connected (even if it is only in my mind). My point being, prior to embarking on the uncharted territory of separation and divorce, my life was chaotic (to say the least). My home life left much to be desired and I strongly felt mine and my children's quality of life needed some re-vamping. However, amidst all the chaos and discord, it was home. It was familiar. We had a system (as disorganized as it was) and I knew what to expect: nothing. Since starting this process, my children seem to be doing well. However, it is moments like this bedtime stand off that cause me to question if I am doing the right thing for my children. Maybe he wouldn't act out if we were at home. Then I remind myself, he's two! What two year old doesn't act out? They don't call it "terrible two's" for nothing. I also ask myself, what kind of life can I provide for my children when I hate the person I've become while being married to their father? Some people just aren't meant to be together. We are two sick people whose diseases manifested and festered while together. I am looking for something different. I want to get better. He does not. It just won't work (at this time). I guess there is hope. I just need to keep reminding myself this is temporary; like my own little purgatory. It's hard right now, but it will get better. By the grace of God, it will get better. I will get better. My kids will get better. Hopefully, some day, my husband will get better.