OMG He's Hot!

I was in my yoga class a few weeks ago and there was this amazing man.  Gorgeous muscular body, beautiful rich blue eyes and dirty blond hair.  At first I just appreciated his good looks and after a few moments there were butterflies in my stomach.  I could walk over and ask him out, I am not technically divorced but very separated and single.  Over the years throughout our courtship and marriage I had been in the company of some extraordinary looking men but my heart was married.  While I could appreciate their good looks and sometimes personalities, I never gave it more thought than that.  That is why after eight years of being with the same man and realizing I could approach someone else as a romantic interest, I made myself completely blush.  We are talking bright red face, cheeks tingling and starting to sweat.  I wish he was in my yoga class everyday, I have never sucked in my abs using my uddiyanna bandha so feircly for an hour  and a half.  It’s not like there is yoga spanx!   Of course I worked each pose as if I was on the cover of yoga journal, it was my best class.   I am not even close or in the realm of dating or even a rebound.  The betrayal and living a fake life for eight years is a bit of mind bender.  It sounds naive but to me it would be insincere to date someone while I am still technically married.  Although my husband and his extramarital lover’s one year anniversary is around this time.  It’s so odd to think that they will have been dating at least 16 months before our divorce is final.   How can I be sincere and open with another person while I still possess his last name?  It’s not me, who I am.   The best way to honor myself is to be real to myself and anyone else I chose to interact with in a romantic way.  I look forward to the day I will sit across from an attractive man and flirt.  While I wait patiently to reclaim my name, I will continue to appreciate and positively objectify gorgeous men I see on the streets.  If you see me blushing and holding my uddiyanna bandha there must be a cute guy nearby. 

A man is not a financial plan.

I saw that quote on a bumper sticker the other day and laughed out loud, no shit.  I started to think about our financial life together.  I have always been okay with money, don’t get me wrong I don’t have a lot but what I do have I worked hard for.   We never had a joint bank account or really mixed funds but we never discussed a monthly detailed budget or most of our finances.  We should have been partners in all financial matters.  I guess it’s hard to hide gifts or hotels for a mistress when the wife has access to the accounts, hunh.  For all of our relationship I made more money than he did but for the first few years we went “dutch” and each paid half.  When we moved to Vermont and bought a house together this changed.  I was making more and he told me he could only pay a portion and not half, okay no problem we were engaged at that point, I thought together for life.  In desperation to be the greatest fiancé/wife I wanted to create a comfortable home, I purchased almost all of our household goods.  Okay makes sense, but then came the day he bought a motorcycle.  He couldn’t contribute half because of his lack of income comparatively and child support but he could afford a motorcycle and the insurance to go with it.  That year our property taxes were doubled, my salary cut due to the economy and I was having trouble making ends meet for us.   There was that bike in the garage laughing at me everyday.  I was pissed and it sparked quite a few good fights between us.  Looking back I should have realized, it was all about him and would always be about him, never us.  I wonder now what girl he was trying to impress or maybe he might have met someone who had a bike herself.  He always complained of his funds being tight and with those types of decisions and the girls on the side, they must have been.   When I left I just wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible and was ready to work four shifts at McDonalds in order to make that happen.  I was lucky financially that I could leave.   If I was under a different circumstance, I would have fought for what I should have been entitled to.  All I really got was a moving van he funded and he took eight years of my life.  It equated to $500 a year for my love and loyalty as girlfriend, fiancé and wife.  After all of this you might think my heart is cold but it’s really my ass. I bought a new car while he was having his affair and because I didn’t know, I thought I would be in LA for years to come.  I didn’t go with the seat warmer option.  It’s getting cold up here in Seattle and he should have paid for heated seats to get installed.  As a gift I paid for our vacation in Costa Rica in May.  Now I understand why he was so upset that the Internet connectivity was intermittent, it disrupted his Skype’s with her on the vacation, I took him on.  I definitely deserve my money back from that.  What about all the money he spent on the girl or girls and maybe I should have been reimbursed for all the money I spent on his daughter.  Or better yet he should have paid me a nannies salary for all those hours I took care of his daughter. The wedding should have been refunded, the commitments he spoke of were already being broken and promises thwarted. His secret malicious actions ticked away my fertile years and has possibly jeopardized my dream of having children.  What he ultimately should pay for is freezing my eggs.  Although that would mean he would have a thread still attached to my dream by funding it.  Insert scissors here.  There is no part of my dreams he can be attached to and my funds will no longer support his double life.  A woman is not a financial plan, either.  At least this one won’t be, again.

Thank you.

These last few months life threw me a huge curveball, what could I possibly be Thankful for this holiday?  My incredible and amazing family and friends.  My parents have always been loving and supportive even through my hellish hormone filled teenage years.  They blessed me with the education, skills and emotional intelligence to be a well-rounded person.  They have loved me unconditionally for 36 years but that phone call was one of the hardest to make.  Telling them my marriage was over and I had been betrayed so harshly.  I knew they would continue to love me and see me through this difficult time but it’s still hard to reconcile that I brought this monster into their lives as well.  My parents, brother, sister in-law and friends were incredible.  They were there to listen, cry and let me vent.  They and many great friends checked on me regularly and their support gave me the strength I needed to make many life altering decisions I never thought would be a part of my life.  When deciding to drive from LA up to Seattle my mom flew down to LA to drive with me.  All those shattered pieces of my heart started to stitch themselves back together that day.  This wasn’t a mugging or break in where I could prevent a future instance by locking my doors, getting a gun or installing an alarm system.  It wasn’t a feeling of caution, being more vigilant or a fear of the night, this was constant by the man whom I shared my life with.   It’s hard to put into words the loss of security and sense of vulnerability that filled every moment those first few weeks.  Having someone physically by my side that truly loved me and only had my best intentions in their heart was beyond comforting. I realized I had been struggling underwater for two weeks trying to survive an emotional drowning.  I was able to pull my head above water that day my mom showed up on my doorstep in LA.  Every day since with the love and support of all of my family and friends, I get closer and closer to my sun drenched and palm tree filled beach.  There are not enough words or hugs to express the depth of my gratitude.   I look forward to the day I can show each of you my mended heart.  And for my family and friends with a pivotal role in my healing, the recognition in your eyes of the stitches you added, that will forever mend those tears.  I have had a few tough months but I get to be thankful for the most sacred facet of life, the love of family and friends.

The cat-less hystericaly sobbing woman at LAX, would be me.

Knuckles has been my cat for twelve years and was the runt of the litter with a broken tail.   He is completely neurotic and does not take to carriers or cars at all.  He senses the carrier and will hide for days.  It was a challenge to get him from Seattle to Vermont and then Vermont to LA.  When moving I decided to drive from LA to Seattle as I needed my car and I would have had a heart attack putting Mugsy on a plane.  She is not the bravest of giant dogs.  I left Knuckles and decided I would fly down the next week to get him.  I booked an early flight and had a few hours to get the cat and then fly back that night.  I knew it was going to be tough but was not ready for an emotional melt down.  When moving knuckles previously he hid in a wall for four hours while I sat on the kitchen floor just waiting for him to come out.   When I arrived in LA the soon to be ex-husband had left a message that he wouldn’t be at the house.  At one point he said he would be at the house, as he didn’t want me there without supervision.  I got there and he had bought a bunch of new furniture, towels, shower curtain and linens.  There was no sign of our lives or who “we” had been, I had been erased.  It was unsettling but not horrible or shocking,.  I called for Knuckles and he meowed so I went to the bedroom and he was in his normal spot under the bed.  I sat there on the floor waiting for him to come to me and he didn’t.  I then brought in some cat food and treats, Knuckles wasn’t coming out.   As time was getting tight I used a broom, moved the bed and no matter what I used he wasn’t moving.  As his howling increased so did my emotions.  I was getting very distraught and tried moving the mattress but the way the bed was I still couldn’t get to him.  At this point I needed to head to the airport and I was sobbing.  I called the taxi and while waiting for them I kept trying but Knuckle’s growling and hissing was gut wrenching.  I left with out him at that point.  The sweet Taxi driver tried to calm me down after I choked out my story of the affair and not being able to get the cat.  I got to the airport, cried my way through the document check and then security pulled me aside.  After a few minutes of pauses in sobs and hyper ventilated breathing the story went something like this; my husband…breathe & breathe…..had an affair….sobs……I flew down…..sob & breathe…to get….breathe…..my cat…..sob & sob & a little snot….I couldn’t get him…..breathe, sobs and more snot.  Yes you can giggle, I do it’s so tragic but funny.  They let me through and I made a straight shot with my head down and hair in my face to the united lounge.  The woman who was checking me in took one look at me and came around the counter and escorted me to the bathroom where I sat on the floor and just cried.  She brought me water and checked on me, until my flight.  The looks I got through the airport, flight attendants and passengers was one of great caution.  Everyone kept a close eye on the hysterical woman, not sure if I was threat or crazed with PMS. That was one of the hardest days I have had and I really appreciated the kindness of the taxi driver and united administrator.  They saw a stranger in need of help and did their best.   I made it home, got myself out of bed the next morning and started a new day.  Mr. Knuckles still resides in LA and I hope to get him back in the next few weeks.  Keep holdin’ on Knucks, if you happen to scratch or bite her all the better.

The Exam

Being a female every year you make the annual appointment for the gynecologist. The metal stirrups and flimsy paper outfit is not fun but necessary.   My last appointment was in October of the previous year and in moving I did a ton of research to find one of the best gynecology departments as I thought we would be starting a family.  The doctor had a frank discussion about my age and pregnancy and said the sooner the better.   There is nothing like realizing you may run out of time on a dream.  Okay I’ll never make So You Think You Can Dance, I won’t be an Olympic gymnast, not that I ever had that talent but I liked the thought and I can’t go back in time to be prom queen.   It was official, confirmed by the doctor, my clock was ticking.  Obviously with my husband’s schedule, disconnect and travel we never got down to discussing it again, until the night before our four year anniversary.   The night he said he didn’t want kids, although he said he was ready two years previous. Anyway after finding out about the affair my therapist mentioned I needed to get tested for STD’s and HIV.  I think my jaw hit the floor, not only had he betrayed me but now I could have possibly have something.   After taking the hottest shower, scrubbing and wishing I could dip myself in bleach, I made an appointment.  When I arrived the nurse asked why I had made a request for a full work up and through ever more tears that week, I told my story.   The last thing you want to do when betrayed is be in a vulnerable position and sitting there completely naked with a paper vest that barely reaches your belly button and a paper cloth over my lap was more than uncomfortable.  Rationally I knew I was at a doctor’s office so it shouldn’t be a big deal.  But emotionally, coupling the paper outfit with the thought that the next time I thought I would face the stirrups would be because I was pregnant, not getting tested for STD’s from my own husband.  This was humiliating.  The nurse and doctor were absolutely amazing.  The last person to explore that region was living a double life and here was someone with a spotlight, magnifying glass and tools all up in my business.   During the exam all I could think was at least the doctor had good intentions for my overall health.  This woman I met twice had more kindness and concern for me than the man I married did.   Those thoughts made the appointment easier and I held onto the pride of being a responsible adult, taking charge of my sexual health, no matter what happened.  I was very lucky that all my tests came back negative.  The nurse was hilarious in sharing stories of her ex-husband and had me laughing by the time I left.  I dreaded this appointment more than anyone could have known, and I survived. The last thing the nurse said to me was “girl you go out tonight and you do you”.   I am happy I get to focus on me but I keep glancing over my shoulder to look at that clock. 

The I am getting divorced because of a lying, cheating, affair loving idiot I married….playlist.

After the shock and numbness wore off and the realization that nothing I screamed would change his actions, I got outside and ran.  With every pounding step my feet made and every shake of my muscles the anger started to dissipate.  My mind started to clear and the decisions I made about my life were that much better.  Here was my playlist for the first few weeks.

Shut Up- Black Eyed Peas

Smile- Lily Allen

Happy Ending- Avrile Lavigne

Kiss Off- Violent Femmes

Fuck You- Ani Defranco

Eye of the Tiger- Survivor

Since You’ve Been Gone- Kelly Clarkson

Take the Power Back- Rage Against the Machine

Ring of Fire- Johnny Cash

I Hate Everything About You- Three Days Gone

Hey Fuck You- Beastie Boys

Mamma Said Knock You Out- LL Cool J

Move Bitch- Ludacris

So What- Pink

99 Problems- Jay Z (*substitute the bitch for dick ;)

Harder to Breathe- Maroon 5

Fighter- Christina Aguilera

Mr. Brightside- The Killers

Are You Happy Now- Michelle Branch

I already know your thinking what a random mix and wow she has some bad taste in music.  That’s me mainstream and I admit I can’t help but start dancing when certain pop songs hit.  Let’s just say my playlists are never chosen at a party by anyone other than me…..only after everyone’s left.  And okay it’s not exactly a run, it probably looks more like a jog but in my head watch out Jackie Joyner-Kersee and Paula Radcliffe. 

Twitter me this twitter me that.

I obsessed over their tweets for a few weeks.  I didn’t post anything on his twitter feed.  I wanted him to pay for my life to be shipped to a safe place and not ask for what he didn’t deserve, my savings.  I did tweet on her posts regularly for those first few weeks, my handle The1Wife.  On the picture of my husband and her best friend with the “loves of my life” caption my response “the love of your life is married, oh wait you knew that before you slept with him”.  When she posted about being hit on by a less than desirable guy I wrote, “don’t forget married men, oops actually you choose them”.  There were more but I never called her names, I only posted about what she had done.  It still makes me smile and the fact that it took her a month to figure out how to privatize her posts, speaks to her intelligence.  My therapist never encouraged me to look or post but she validated my feelings of anger and hurt.  It was a relief to hear that my behavior was completely normal and she said actually surprisingly “nice” comparatively to what others have done.  My thoughts were absolutely maniacal and bitchy, I had dreams of going to their office and making some sort of scene.  My favorite idea was to have balloons sent to each of them on the same day that said “congratulations”.  His note would have said, “congrats on finding a new babysitter” and hers would have said, “congrats on sleeping with my husband, I am sure your friends, family and co-workers are so proud”.  It would have been funny but I didn’t do it.  It’s money that I could spend on a facial, new boots or a massage.  On my drive from LA to Seattle only two weeks from finding out, I checked his feed.  He had posted a picture of them together on twitter.  I texted him.  He swore it wasn’t her.  His mind is so far gone or his other vice has such a grip that I think he believed his own lies.  I had studied her on Google through her posts, her friends posts, work posts, it was absolutely her.  I hadn’t even made it to Seattle yet and there they were together for the world to see.  I completely understand the women behind the stories on Snapped, I get Lorena Bobbitt and that moment in Waiting to Exhale where she loads her cheating husbands car with his clothes and lights it on fire.  There were many parts of my being that wanted to do all that and worse.  It’s nice to know those thoughts and feelings are normal, the choice to act is what separates us from murders and psychopaths.  I never did damage anything of his; I still relish my visions of his motorcycle finding it’s way off a cliff.  Not necessarily with him on it.....any more.  It’s been 2 ½ months since I found out and over a month since I last looked at his or her twitter page.  His tag line on twitter “I make and break dreams one day at a time” my perspective looking from the outside, wow what an egocentric ass.  I married the man that wrote that and he broke a lifetime of dreams.  There is a fire I light  inside myself everyday to live with love, trust and passion.  The bonus, I won’t be a feature story on Snapped and writing this from prison.   Although I see a new career path as a twitter recovery counselor, I am 36 days tweet feed free. 

Having a Ball in mediation!

I have mentioned this before but California is a “no fault” divorce state.  No matter what happens both parties are at fault and the marital assets are considered joint property.  In other words all the money he spent on her, possibly them, for dinner, drinks, hotels, lingerie (yep there was lingerie) etc was gone.  All the money I had saved and all the money I spent on towels, furniture, bedding, candles, pillows and items for his daughter, he had a right to.  We didn’t have any accounts together, luckily my dream of having a family never came true, and we had sold our house the year before in Vermont.  We didn’t have any financial ties except for everything I purchased to create a home and my savings.   I had saved that money for a time when I would have to suppliment my income while I had hoped to be pregnant.  He was entitled to half.  We did decide to go through a mediator because of our lack of intertwined assets and now I realize, lives. 

This was an interesting process and I would absolutely recommend that there be a neutral third party when deciding to separate.   People can change dramatically when it comes to discussing money and assets.  His deamenor in these meetings was the strangest thing I could have witnessed.  His body language was agitated, frustrated, petulant and outright angry.  Uh, hello your choices put this into motion and you are acting like the one betrayed and hurt.  I couldn’t help but almost laugh at the absurdity.  I was so shocked and concerned by his erratic behavior, I called his sister to make sure his family was in contact with him and providing some support.  It all made sense later, after understanding his other vices.   As I had mentioned previously, my desire to know all kept me coming back to his facebook and twitter posts.  I had refrained for almost two weeks of making any comments.  I knew I had to de-friend my husband, what an odd comment, I needed to de-friend my husband.  Anyway the night I planned on doing that was the week I was packing my things, his daughter had moved, he was staying somewhere else….mmm any guesses.  He had posted just minutes before I got on facebook that he had been working late at the office on spreadsheets, then I checked her twitter account and of course she was at the office making popcorn.  My last post on his page “I bet your just having a Ball”, her last name is Ball.  This was the first time I had been able to make a joke and find some humor in this awful situation.  It still makes me giggle.  We had a mediation meeting the next day and his first words to me “I saw your post, that was completely inappropriate and I won’t tolerate it”.  Seriously, seriously that was inappropriate!  Again I can’t say enough a neutral third party is a must.  My lessons learned, definitely find the humor but don’t post about it the night before a mediation session.  

The wedding ring tan line.

When I awoke in the guesthouse the morning after finding out about the affair, I laid in the dark staring at the ceiling, disbelieving this was all happening.  I unconsciously moved my left thumb over the inside of my ring finger and I was immediately nauseous.  I took the wedding and engagement rings off.  In the haze of the morning darkness a stripe of white skin glowed.  My Vermont skin that hadn’t been exposed to the LA sun for a year, was bleached teeth white, Hollywood sign white, virgin wedding dress white.  I had to laugh at the absurdity of the prominent tell tale sign of a life altered.  In the strangest way I have to give that white stripe credit for keeping me calm in overwhelming moments.  Every time I looked down and saw that glowing insignia it made me pause and take a deep breathe.  That pause for breathe through out those first few weeks gave me a reassurance of my self.  When my emotions were rising to the surface at inopportune moments at the grocery store, yoga, mediator’s, gas station, walking the dog, work, it was that white stripe that forced me to take pause and inhale.  That moment allowed me to gather my strength and diminish the rawness of emotions.  It took some time but the glowing stripe is gone although there is still a slight skin indentation.  That too will heal in time just like me.