I do find it interesting that when I did decide to leave I was applauded, in a sense, by friends and family. I was given more heartfelt support than I had felt in decades. Leaving felt right. Everything came together more than all the years of bucking up and making things "right", everything just became right. I had played the role. I had played it well. I had become the perfect wife; Stepford was my middle name. Greet him at the door with a drink, dinner on the stove, his favorite show already channelled in on the television. I sat with him for the first half hour of being home and listened, yes listened, while he talked about his day. I was packing up the vehicle for camping, unpacking and cleaning when we got home. Cleaning out the bbq after he had made the previous meal. I put on mascara before he woke in the morning to put on a good face. I hugged (with feeling) and kept clean clothes in his drawers folded and arranged per instructions. Twenty two years of learning the ropes and getting it right more often than not. OK, maybe he was an ass. Maybe after six months of meeting him at the door and not once getting a kind word (about that time I had started listening to hear if I would actually get one), maybe after sleeping alone for ten years because he couldn't sleep unless he was in the Lazyboy (aptly named), maybe after shoveling sidewalks and driveways (which I like doing actually) and not hearing a thank you while he drove off to work while I went back in the house to get the kids ready for school before I went to work - well, "thank you" means more than "I love you".
It has been brought to my attention that my sweet ex is not doing so well. He's not taking care of himself physically, he's dealing with bouts of depression, and bad money decisions. I was told that he is suffering from a broken heart. That he had no light left behind his eyes. I'm a little upset by this. Was I the only one that saw the light go out? It happened long before I left. Our counseling was for him, get some life into that bag o' bones. He wouldn't do it. He still won't, he just has another excuse...oh poor baby, his wife of twenty some years up and left and now she's half way across the country living it up and leaving him behind. Shit! I'm downright angry. How dare they include me in his drama.
One of my friends wants me to meet a single friend of hers. I'm feeling trepidatious. I wonder if he says, "thank you". At this point that might be all it takes. Gawd, I don't want to be desperate.
OK, done whining.