I feel like I’m writing just to write today. I’m sore. My back hurts, possibly from rocketing back and forth from my doctor, to my job, to my lawyer, back to my job, out to the horses for my daughter’s lesson.  I spend more money on gas by twice than the average person, at least that’s what my the guy at the oil change place told me.

Yesterday I signed the agreement for the divorce. What a sobering step.  I can’t argue with the settlement, my ex clearly wants this done and will pay money to make me go away.  I wanted a disclosure on a very large credit card debt he recently acquired, and heroic efforts were made to keep me from this information.  I decide to concede the battle; my lawyer didn’t’ think it was worth it. I’m trying not to fantasize, but I’ll indulge here:  a girlfriend on his last business trip, a new-to- him car (it wasn’t a new car amount of debt), a ticket to Africa to see my daughter who will be studying overseas next semester.

I’m trying to loosen my mental grip. It doesn’t really matter. I have a life to get on with, and I may travel overseas again; I may not. I don’t know the future, it’s not tied to him anymore. I wonder if the curiosity, bordering on obsession, is just my brain maintaining a connection that is less and less tangible, barely a thread of connection now, compared to an entangled life and a merged psychology.

My ex made some decisions in the settlement that surprise me. He conceded some tax liabilities, he paid a bill we ought to have shared.  Am I supposed to feel grateful? Sorry for him? Should I have told him the errors he was making?  No, of course not.  Frankly, I always liked my judgement better..not that I was always correct, I don’t believe, but I didn’t feel safe with his financial decisions. And to question was to evoke guilt and shame, and then to persist was to evoke rage.

A friend of mine congratulated me, she is also facing divorce and a complex financial situation, and wants my advice.  I don’t know anything, and congratulations didn’t seem in order.  I accepted her comment, but told her in fact that this situation I consider, at times, really an epic failure.  On the other hand, people grow in different directions, and as much as therapists and advice columnists want you to believe, growth is not always under your control, and the demand to “grow together”, the advice embroidered on pillows your aunt gives you at your wedding, may not be the whole story.  More truthful may be the comments made by a friend 15 years my senior, who told me “frankly, the circumstances were good, and we got lucky-we might not have.”

Her perspective may be the humility of a longer life.

Or perhaps I just wasn’t good at taking advice.


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