This morning I had one of those strange dreams where you are inside your dream, waking from another. My unconscious mind resupplied me with my husband and I was snuggled up to close to him. Yet in the room were many others sleeping, including some male clients of mine, who I had asked to find me a date, apparently before they all passed out. Professional ethics must be crammed into me; the clients were clearly uncomfortable with my request. So I awoke with my “proper” mate, and was immediately repelled. Then I kept finding toilets that were too soiled to use. I guess it doesn’t take Carl Jung or Sigmund Freud to figure that one out. More tears.
I nearly had an anxiety attack yesterday over an email exchange with my ex. I had asked to change our schedule with our daughter, and he stated that he preferred it to remain the same. An “oh so polite” exchange. I didn’t’ ask so I could go dating, or travel anywhere, or to have any special time with friends. It was because my academic schedule changed. “No” is the answer. But instead of feeling angry or disappointed, I felt panicked. I’m not so clear about that one. Sigmund?
Anger is coming though, as I write this. He can’t conceive of what I’m trying to accomplish. I took a hit in my career to stay home, albeit part time, with the girls. So I work twice as much for less reimbursement than his one job. And the money goes to our daughters’ education. He has no understanding of this and I can expect none. This really pisses me off. Perhaps my own anger makes me fearful.
I am grateful in that sense that my daughter is 17 and I only have six more months of this. Then it’s up to her, and even then, for only three months more. At that point, I can express myself to both girls directly, let them know I’d like to see them. They will be minimally interested, because of their great desire to shake both their parents off their shoes, as well as the soil of the Pacific Northwest. Maybe better than facing multiple years of young children with dropping off and picking up, I don’t know.
Divorce is such a tragedy, even perhaps when both people can talk it over and sadly let it go. No such resolution here. My therapist says it is a death, but I’m not so sure. In a death you have terrible grief, but a clean goodbye. I’ll have to interact with him at some level for the rest of my life. He will never go away and I can only hope that the sheer panic I feel when he exerts control over my life without him will draw down into a more relaxed perspective.