Who We Become

The title came to mind out of the blue - not clear if it intended as all negative or positive, more surreal. I know I am in large part the same person I've been for a long time. I guess in fairness that person has been buried for a while, and I'm not certain I have dusted off the all soot yet...taking my time on that I guess. There is a part of me that is so angry that I tried and gave and believed in someone who has proven to be so undeserving. I stumble upon that and get hung up on the fact that I made that choice...I made the choice to stay, to believe, to put up with his crap, to defend him, to make excuses to those who saw what was happening. It is so easy to look back now and see how early on the signs were forming...how early on it should have been clear that Chris was pretending to be in the life I was in, and I was pretending he was worth waiting for. Well, I waited and waited. Wasted time.

As far as who has he become, the best I can say he is the person just before I met him 20 years ago. The only sense I can make of this is that he was in the beginnings of wanting a different life when I met him, and I fit that bill. But 20 years later, he is who he is. An arrogant, foolish man. A crappy father. A cheater...in marriage and in life. I guess if there is any consolation here it is that I am not left wanting him back, I am just left wondering who the hell he was and who the hell I was that I once believed in him. I would be so easy to just walk on if I didn't have to deal with him. If I didn't have to see Casey's face when he is late. If I didn't have to shut my mouth when Casey comes to me upset that his dad did something crappy, or isn't paying attention, or doesn't listen to him when he finally gets up the nerve to talk to his dad. If I didn't have to hear his excuses about why he doesn't pay his meager child support on time.If I had my name back.I don't want to be a Keith anymore. C'mon Holly...get this thing going for me...I have a life waiting somewhere for me!

Too Many Hats

Divorcee.Single mom. Therapist. Program Director.Friend.Sister.Daughter.Probably in that order. If I could make the first one happen, it would bring a little relief to the rest, it kind of clogs up the current identity flow here. Funny that survivor didn't rank in...maybe that is just a sign that my recent clear scans has given me a boost of confidence until next March when I panic again about that. Maybe I just don't have time for it. Not that I'm in pity party mode here, I'm not, but I'm just too busy and preoccupied with too many things. Not a good place to be because it means nothing is getting done at 100%. I feel like I'm 15 again in a weird way, old enough to know what I am good at, but shaken enough to doubt my perceptions of people and doubt my path here. Maybe a renewed adolescence can be liberating...time to reaffirm who I am and what I want without having to be burdened with my "husbands" needs or desires. Time to shed the skin I've been in for too long and slither out a new fresher version of myself. Sounds good...until I realize that means I have to stop long enough to think about where I'm headed and make a plan. Maybe if I shed the skin I will actually make this blog something more than my secret occasional diary. I suppose even the simplest metamorphosis takes it's own time to come to life...so Patty saves her Irish jugs...and figures out how to get a life.

Damned Cancer

I am haunted today. Haunted because a friend of my sister, who is 36 and newly diagnosed with breast cancer, just found out she is stage IV. Mets to the liver and spine. And I am a selfish beast because I keep thinking Oh My God that could have been me. And my craphead husband doesn't get that. That could have been me. But I am here, and alive, and cancer free, and able to complain about work, and my craphead husband. But I am haunted because this poor girl's struggle only reminds me that plenty of women die from breast cancer. And what if it comes back before I've had time to raise my boys...and what if...and what if...

I hate cancer. I hate divorce. In many ways the two feel the same. I told my oncologist I am getting rid of a 300 pound tumor without chemo or rads...harsh, I know. Once in a blue moon I get a little strength from standing up for myself and by myself; just like the strength I got from each chemo round completed, or each clean scan. But tonight, underneath the facade of cooking dinner and tucking my kids into bed...I am haunted.

WIne and Dissapointment

So while sharing a bottle of a really good California Red with my sister, we start talking about Chris. The downside of finishing the bottle. Apparently he is brazen enough to tell the neighbors about his current dates, taking whatever skank of the week to haunted houses over halloween. But he didn't buy his son a birthday gift. I claim to take the high road on visits, but the honest truth is that I prefer visits to be at home even though he disgusts me because I do not trust him with our children. Here comes a momentary pity party: I never thought this is who he was. I never thought I would be gullable enough to believe in someone who hadn't earned it. I never thought I would be the divorcee bitching about what a scumbag her ex husband was, and who dreaded the day [but yet secretly needed the day] that her children knows what little cahracter he has, and that their potential is so much greater. Pity party over...for now. I look at my kids and know that things are meant to be. I can no longer have kids, the tradeoff for being cured of cancer. So if I had lost faith in Chris or found out who he was even just four years ago, I wouldn't have Logan.I want my name back. I want my financial independance. I want my divorce.

Doing the right thing.

Everything in me wants to kick Chris in the teeth. And put a billboard in front of his store letting the world know what a liar and a cheat he is. But I can't. I have two boys watching me to see how this is all going to play out. So I do the right thing, and play nice, and hide the fact that when he comes to visit the kids I am cringing on the inside and want him as far away from my home as possible. And sit 5 feet away from him at Casey's football games and be polite while he chats it up with the other dads. I doubt he tells them that he is living in his parents house because he cheated on his wife and has shown up at maybe three games for his kids in the 5 years they've been doing sports. But...I do the right thing...and shut up...and play nice. And tell the kids to have fun with Daddy, even though I am scared to death he is going to do something stupid, or let them get hurt or scared or worried. Meanwhile my brain gets locked up, my paperwork is tragically behind because I cannot focus, and I get to worry and pray every month he manages to pay his damned child support while questioning when is the right time to give up on this house and move. I keep this blog attached to my cancer blog still. THe sentiments feel the same. I remember wanting the tumor to be gone. And the fight to be over. And I wanted to feel free from the pressure of it. I am back to that place again. But I will do the right thing...and show my boys how to survive.

Divorce

One day in 2008 I had to look my son in the face and tell him I had cancer. Today I had to tell him Chris and I were getting divorced. I'm tired of Casey having to grow up strong like this, and have to deal with this crap. Chris betrayed me, betrayed us a long time ago. Problem is I only caught him this week. Something told me to check his phone...and there was the text, making it clear Chris had been cheating. And when I confronted him, he made it clear it has been going on a long time and he was done being married. Tonight as he told Casey he wasn't staying the night anymore it became real, for Casey, and for Chris. The Stella in me just wants him out...gone...I'm a far better mother than he is a father, don't come around being fun daddy only for me to clean up the mess when you are gone. I know our sex life was pathetic, what Chris didn't seem to get was that he became so goddamned unlikeable, and made a life that we can't possibly fit into. I want his crap out of my home. I want peace. I want a full nights sleep. I want to not be jealous when I look at other couples. I want a life of my own. Guess I'm gonna get that part.

Jug Day revisted

I haven't written in a long time. Work, kids, stress, regrouping. All valid excuses I suppose. Coming up on the Komen Race again, kind of an anniversary of being done with treatment, and being cancer free...somehow life is still difficult in many ways. Chris's head may explode trying to keep his business alive, and I am now a widow to that place. Key Auto was his dream...I didn't know I'd be raising my kids on my own as a result. THen again, many things are going so much better since treatment ended. I am healthier. More assertive. Stronger. I'm doing my first volunteer events with Komen and signed up with Friend for Life too...

I know exactly what brought me back to write tonight. When I was driving Logan home and we were talking about his temper fits, he says to me, "you make me sad too, when you cry". I've not been much of a cryer in a long time so I wasn't sure what he meant. So I asked. And he told me he was sad when I had the booboo on my heart. He pointed to the spot where my port scar is...and it hit me. He knew when I got that port that things changed, and I was sad for awhile. I never knew it was that clear to him. And he can still see the scar. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. He was only one and a half when all this started. And he knew life changed. And he knows that scar was part of it. And he remembers. So in my shock and surprise I pull it together and tell him that that booboo let the doctors give me very special medicine, that made me all better. So that booboo made me better. And he smiled.