Category: Relationships

Getting Ready for Battle

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

We are going to do battle soon, over trivial things. I feel the eminent confrontation over what is mine and what is his. I can almost walk away from everything except for my books and my craft tools. The only thing that stops me is knowing deep down that I am entitled to some things.

There is precious little in this flat that belongs to me alone anyway. These are few things that I bought for me, with my own money, when I first came to Cape Town two years ago. Husband is the type that buys the cheapest kettle, and toaster. While I give myself a little treat with a cordless kettle, and a sandwich maker. I am partial to the things I bought, because I chose them with care and paid the correct prices. Strangely enough it is not the appliances that I hang on to, it is more the little gadgets and tools.

Today the argument was as follows: If I do not pay the telkom bill then he will deduct it from my -yet to be seen- maintenance, or maybe from the child’s maintenance. Earlier, when I asked him if he can take us shopping for diapers and baby stuff he answered that he doesn’t need to do that, because he will pay for maintenance, and why should he pay twice. I can sense that we are going to descend to pennies and cents shortly, but what the heck, there is no point being nice anymore.

Bear in mind that I have offered to keep him on my medical aid in return for a contribution and even thought of leaving the modem for the telephone line. He even alluded to the fact that he wants one more ticket at staff prices from my airline employer. I did not say : Hell no, you do not deserve it. I just try to be reasonable, for the sake of momentary peace. In the end, he is helping me look after HIS son while I go to work. In his book he is being nice and doesn’t have to do it.

I look at my poor baby and feel sorry for him. I have chosen a complete jerk to be his father. I hope he will not be afflicted with the same emotional and psychological shortcomings of his sire. Yes, I know I am not perfect, but heavens I consider having my baby a privilege not a burden. Having the baby made me discover that I had love and dedication in me, while it exposed his self-centered tendencies. Of course these suffered with the advent of a new life. When I am confronted with this attitude it is difficult to curb my revulsion. If a person cannot melt with love towards their own child, then they are incapable of feeling this emotion towards anyone. It is rather sad.

Bargaining with the Cheapskate

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

The lawyer I saw two years ago for my first divorce attempt is helping again for this final one. We sat together last week to try and draft a consent paper. My soon-to-be-ex husband was also present. At the end of the meeting I thought that we had agreed on everything, but a day or so later husband came back with a counter offer, which I found insulting. One more day of ugliness and name-calling followed then another revised offer. I am not about to fight over a thousand here and another there, so I basically agreed on whatever he suggested. I agreed on pathetic terms for child maintenance and spousal support, but then I am hoping that I will not need this small change. Besides I have reached a stage, where I do not mind buying myself out with some small concessions to his pocket. So we are finally in agreement about the settlement, but my soon-to-be-ex still chokes on small stuff. He always has, and onces a cheapskate always a cheapskate.

I know that I said I took the word divorce out of my system for good, but the lawyer convinced me otherwise. Why should I stay married in name only to this guy, and let him get the benefit of our joint estate and avoid being accountable for maintenance? It might suit him but not me. Now at least I know what I will end up with and what to expect (or not to expect) financially. For all I care he can keep the dubious satisfaction of telling whoever comes next that I was the one who divorced him.

This Time it is Over

~ marobbie ~ 1 Comment

We are definitely getting divorced. This time I will not chicken out or make an about face, because I have had enough.

I am packing boxes of books and yarn. My clothes and baby’s are still waiting to be packed. This makes a fourth time for me, I have dismantled my life three times before for the same man or because of him, and this time I want my own life back. A life where I can call the shots this time, and make my own decisions.

In the end it turned out that people do not change that much. Perhaps he tried to change, perhaps he wanted to, but he finally realised that he couldn’t. I never offered to change, and if I had I don’t think I could change either. It is the way things go.

I still bear him some grudges, especially because he lied and pretended to be what he isn’t. Because he put a child in this world because he “thought” it would make him happy. In contrast, I KNEW that I was ready for a child, and I knew that having him will change my life. I am glad I did not know what the future held because I would have missed out on the most wonderful thing in my life.

Inside Dialogue – Ways of a Strange World

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

There is a full moon outside, and it is the last full moon I will see from this window. I remember seeing the one just before Robert was born, and thinking that when the next one comes I will be holding a baby in my arms. I spoke up my thoughts and dreams at the time to Ron, and I thought he shared them.

Now there are no more future plans for us to share, no more dreams. The pain is intense, it tears at my gut, and along with it there is furious anger that wants to claw out at his eyes, and tear his heart out, like he did mine. Anger and pain alternate in waves, and my head throbs with their intensity. At the end of the day, I feel drained, yet sleep eludes me. It is hard to sleep next to a stranger, and harder still to lie next to a loved one who has become a stranger.

I lie awake and think, of words, intimacies, and laughs we shared, and I wonder how many of them were contrived. For two years I was very happy, but my castle was built on sand, and it crumbled as all sand castles do. I will need time, to sift through the rubble of this marriage. I was married to two different men, and someday I will know which of them was real. Tomorrow we put an end to this. I will try to get over my feelings of bitterness, anger and disappointment. I do not want to waste further energy on destructive emotions. I would rather put my energy to better use. The most profound hurt, though, is the fact that I still love Ron. I know it, because I am still capable of making excuses for him and his behaviour. I am being too kind on him, though. There are other people out there, who come from broken homes and abusive families; people who survive violent crime, wars and torture, and can still rise above their pain, and give back to humanity. In fact, strong people can move on beyond the hurt of their past. They make it good, by breaking the chain of hatred and refusing to pass it on. The weak are the ones that wallow in the misery of the past and spread it like a disease. At this juncture of my life, I don’t want to pass along the pain, indignation, hatred and disappointment onto others, especially not onto Robert; I will not criticize, vilify or degrade anyone. The passage of time will be the greatest test, and the future will tell on everyone, as it did before.

This month among my close friends there was the wedding of Jason and Fiona, and in a few days’ time, a little girl ‘Olivia’ will be born to Monique and Bart. My friend -and future house mate Jackie broke up with her boyfriend, and I am getting divorced. I remember the irony of Ron saying that 2008 will be great. “What was he thinking?” I ask myself, and it is a question that will keep coming up for some time, and in relation to much of his actions in the last two year. 2008 is a leap year, and in my culture leap years are billed as difficult and unlucky. I do not agree with this theory; I think that a leap year is a period of adjustment and purge. It clears the slate and heralds new beginnings, and things that are waiting to happen tend to occur. Ailing people die, and also ailing marriages; people tie the knot after long engagements and babies are born. We are just part of the dance of human relationships, on simple or leap years. Change is always part of life.

Under the Surface : What is really happening

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

I am starting a series of posts which will be hidden for a while. I have been sugar-coating reality and buffering people I love from a cruel twist in the story. Things aren’t going well in this household. I feel very sad, mostly because I know how these realities will come back to hurt my son when he is old enough to know what is happening.

But I will fight ferociously to keep the sadness and ugliness at bay. I will not let my negative feelings impact my child’s view of his dad. The problems that I have with dad are between us and I will not put them on my child’s tender shoulders.

Ron and I have different sets of values and priorities. We therefore tend to move in opposite directions. The first six years of our marriage Ron charted the course and was satisfied with it, while I followed. But I was a reluctant traveller on this route, my natural tendency was in an opposite direction, and Ron felt as if he was dragging my dead weight behind.

The marriage came to a breaking point, when I finally realised that I was travelling in a direction I felt was totally wrong.

Against all odds, we came back together again, and these past two years I set the general direction, sort of. Ron convinced himself that he was happy to start a family with me, content to be a retired dad. But under the surface he was disappointed and unhappy, his goal was in another direction, and he felt that I was dragging him away from it. He hid his disappointment from himself and from me for some time, keeping himself busy with other dreams; dreams he thought we could share. Sadly, these dreams proved to be inadequate, for both of us, and reality reared its ugly head again: We are simply two people travelling in different directions. We cannot stay together for very long, sooner or later we need to go on our separate ways. The past two years for me were the time when I was the happiest, perhaps because Robert made my life complete. I now know that I always wanted a family, and had I met a different man, perhaps I would have had several children.

Things turned out this way for us, we were given Robert, and I have no regrets. The decision to have him was not an attempt to glue the relationship together; at least this wasn’t the case for me. I cannot speak for Ron, so I will speak for myself: Robert is here because he is wanted and loved. Robert is here because I loved his father. Robert is here because I refused to admit failure. Robert is here because I did not want to be the one who declared the marriage dead. Robert is here… and I do not regret a day in nine years of a dysfunctional marriage. He is definitely worth it.

Leap Year Day : On the Inside

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

I have to post today because it is leap year day. In my culture Leap Years are believed to be fraught with difficulties and tragedies. I am having a lot of difficulties at this time, but I am grateful there are no tragedies.

My silent partner is still very much the same. He neither communicates with me nor with his son. I told him yesterday that he treats the baby as if he was his stepson, and I know many fathers who will be more involved with a stepson or even an adopted son. It is rather sad.

Yes, I know he loves his son as much as he is capable of loving anyone, but he is resentful. Somehow the baby will be preventing him from realising this nebulous dream, a dream that has not materialized over half a century of life. I thought that a child would give him purpose, hope and a reason to wake up every morning. Obviously he needs more.

I am silent as well, but I am suffering. My days pass caring for the little one, and I spend my nights staring through the tube of my computer screen. It provides my only window to the world. I read articles on the internet and I type my random thoughts. Maybe the silent treatment will turn me into a writer yet.

Last nights, I turned in as usual in the small hours of the morning, and I was plagued with disturbed dreams: The horror of my teeth falling, every one of them. In my culture this is an ominous dream, it means the loss of a close person. People who interpret it thus usually mitigate the impact of their prophecy, by asking whether there was any pain in the dream. If there was no pain in the dream then it is just a distant relative, they would say. In my experience dreams are largely painless, perhaps I do not have an imagination vivid enough to conjure pain; horror, yes, but not pain. In my dream last night there was only the dread and horror of realising that I am about to spit out one of my molars. I think I even had the faint taste of blood.

The rest of my dreams were about my husband. There, I had the distinct impression that he was seeing another woman, perhaps even having an affair. My pride was the only part of me that hurt in the dream. I don’t know whether I fought with him or not. Two days ago I caught the whiff of another woman in our car. It stuck to the seatbelt on the passenger side. He was out with friends on Sunday, and now I know that at least one of them was a woman. Honestly, I do not think he has the emotional clout to get out and have an affair. He doesn’t need emotional dependency, and he wouldn’t want to deal with the consequences. Still, I can’t help but wonder.

I hope my tooth dream is just my mind’s speculation on losing my husband. I can deal with that.

Powerless

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

The problem with marriage is that you take the power of shaping your destiny from your own hands and give it –at least partially- to someone else. I now realize with certain bitterness that this is where I am at. It is depressing to see my efforts of trying to forge ahead thwarted by the apathy of my husband. He doesn’t know what he wants, he doesn’t know where he wants to go, and I am forced to sit and tread water here with him.

I think that deep down he knows that the situation he finds himself in is his own doing. I did not hold a gun to his head and force him to come back, and I definitely did not have his baby without his consent. It was a mutual decision. Still, he does not know what to do next; he doesn’t have a plan and refuses to make a move in ANY direction. He moans and complains that he is relegated to housework, yet refuses any suggestion of hiring a domestic worker or a maid. So, you can neither walk in front of him or behind him, which is very annoying.

If it wasn’t for him, I would be starting a life somewhere; in a little village in the Western Cape, in Germany or even Canada. Living in a flat is not his kind of life, and not for him is the life in Europe, nor the rat race of Canada. The solution? none, just sit there and feel sorry for yourself. Yet, he has the nerve to accuse me of limiting his lifestyle and pushing him behind.

Face it man. It is always you who drops the ball. You had a wife and children, yet you dropped them and wanted to carry on with your life. You had a job for life in Saudi Aramco but you dropped it and left to go somewhere else. You had a girlfriend who adored you and cooked and cleaned after you and worshipped you like a good servant, yet you dropped her (because the poor thing had baggage and you couldn’t be bothered). Then you chose to marry some unknown quantity, somebody you met over the internet, much younger than you (yours truly) and you almost dropped me right away – I didn’t allow you though. I stuck with my choice, and put up with many miserable years, to see this whole thing through. You worked at IBM, they almost transferred you to Cape Town, again you dropped them and moved to some other company. Then you dropped these people too, although you had a great job and earned a truck-load of money. Then when we bought the gas station, I was with you every step of the way, but you made my life so miserable and pushed me out of working with you, then out of your life. I just had to drop you for the first time! Because you refused to give me an inch of breathing space, you controlled my every move. even my salary you paid into YOUR bank account, remember that? At least you had the grace to pay my tax bill. When you finally dropped the gas station you wanted to pass the buck on me. I was in Cape Town and you wanted to get back with me so desperately, you made me choke. And I choked, and I dropped you for the second time. It was only normal. I was powerless for seven years, and I was about to give you the power again, I was not comfortable with that, it was too early for my wounds to heal. In the end I relented, it was my choice though, I tried to get through divorcing you but found it against my nature and ethics, and I begged you to come back, and you did. I wanted you back because I realized I still loved you, but you came back to me because you didn’t have any better plans. We had a baby because you were so unhappy you thought MAYBE this is what was missing from your life. I had a baby because I knew this is what I wanted more than anything in the world.

The end result for me: I am still happy. I was always capable of being happy, and now my baby is someone I can love for the rest of my life. I will never be alone. My baby gives me so much happiness, yet he is also my ultimate trap. I can’t leave his father anymore, and with that you have the ultimate power over us. You can shape our destiny and our future, and I am not sure I like that.

The end result for you: Still unhappy, you never were, and you never will be. You keep rehashing the past, I dropped you twice, you say, the second time was on your birthday. True, but let’s suppose that I never did that; would things have been any different? I know the answer and you should too. Nothing would have been any different, we would still be here at the same juncture. The problem is not me man, it is YOU. FACE IT !

 

 

 

 

Let’s (not) Turn Him into a Pumpkin

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

Thirty five minutes left to midnight, and I am tempted to wait up and see whether my husband will come back as a pumpkin. Good for him, this is the second Friday in a row where he has been out. It makes me feel less guilty about the small tubs of ice cream, the Chocolate Brownie Avalanche, and the threesome mint chocolate bars I feast on while pretending to take the baby for a walk in the pram.

What a life, eh? I normally feel guilty whenever I go out without him; I doubt that he ever feels this way about me. Today, is the day after Valentine’s Day. I was never really big on pink hearts and chocolates, and I don’t remember getting any. Last year at this time I got a small teddy with a heart; it was a mass present from work. It still made me feel happy, because by then I knew that I had a tiny baby growing inside me, and the small teddy was going to be its first toy. For months it sat on top of my monitor, and whenever I looked at it I smiled and thought of my little baby. Now the bear is attached to my son’s mobile and he is the one who looks at it and talks to it every morning.

This year was supposed to be great, and it is really going nowhere so far. I am treading water, reading trash, knitting from stash and blogging nonsense. Today I tried to take a positive step and do some freelance work. I bid for a job and ended up doing its proofreading. It was hardly worth the effort, but I thought of it as a marketing strategy, to get to know new clients and break new grounds. I am bidding for other jobs and applying to agencies that are looking for a word-crafter. Hmm, that is actually a good name for a serious blog that combines knitting with writing, maybe one day once I get this nastiness out of my system. Will I ever get that far? I wonder.

Fifteen minutes left to midnight, and still no sign of my pumpkin. Tell you what, I am going to brush my teeth and turn in. I have had this glaring monitor and the humming of my processor fan keeping me company for almost five hours now; I have had enough of this miserable evening. I am going to meet some interesting people, in a trashy novel.

At five minutes to midnight my husband arrived. He said he prefers hiking to doing the rounds of the bars. Somehow I am optimistic that he will find more substance with me than with these false friends. Hopeful.

His Mother

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

I don’t know what my husband wrote his mom about the problems we are having. He could have written to her anything and her response would have been the same. I feel sorry for the man, turning to his mother when deep down he knows that she might the reason behind at least some of his woes. If he had a different mother, he wouldn’t have become this selfish, for instance.

I begged the man to talk to people. So his solution is to talk to his mother. He also told me that he is talking to some “friends”, but his meeting with them never took place. He doesn’t want to talk to me because: “You are the problem”. Please explain to me, how can be the problem, when he is the one who is unhappy? Apparently life has cheated him out of some great prize, or better still I have withheld this great prize from him. Pray tell, how?

Yes, I do talk to people as well, and it is good to be reminded sometimes that he was the one who wanted me back. In fact, he came on so strongly that I bolted and decided that perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea. Admittedly, the timing was in very bad taste, but it was my due for years of emotional abuse. I think it stuck in his craw that I was the one who left him, and it was oh so good of him to want me back despite that, but now he decided that he shouldn’t have let me get away with it a second time.

Well, for me this second time was for keeps, and I promised that I will never leave him again, and I am still good on that promise. When I had this baby with him, it was enough for me. I was no longer interested in anything or anyone else. I discovered that having a family and a baby of my own is all I ever wanted in my life. Now, it is his turn to discover that, this will never be enough for him. To me this clearly translates into: “The man has a problem” not to his crazy accusation that I am the problem. Let’s leave it at that.

 

In his wallet today I discovered a piece of a newspaper. He had written little notes on it: Wadi Halfa, Knowledge Systems, the button, FARIS, Cockroach for dinner and some other stuff. To anyone else it will sound like rubbish, but I knew all these headings. They are stories from his life that he considers important. I enjoyed listening to them, not because of the brilliant experiences, but mostly because it was obvious how much joy recounting them brought him. His trip to Africa, the company he formed when he came out of college and then sold, some invention he patented, software he wrote and other strange experiences from his travels. This disjointed set of haphazard sketches are the sum total of this man’s life. Fortunately for him, or unfortunately, I could not laugh at the list, I felt deeply and truly sorry. If the notes were near the computer I would have thought that he is putting some email together to his daughter, but I think they are there for a time when he talks to some real people. Some fleeting acquaintances he wants to show off as his non-existent friends. He wants to impress them with these random trophies of an empty life; a life where these sad phrases are desperately trying to hide fundamental flaws. I now know all the flaws, and the stories have lost their sparkle.

 

He did not need to read off his mother’s response to me. Her concerns were as expected: 1) Money 2) Herself.

She interpreted the problem as financial and her brilliant solution was for me to work fulltime, while he looks after the baby; until such time when he can get a better job. Then she went on about the possibility of him getting pension when he goes back home. Huh? I thought he told her that he was unhappy because he has no life, what does that have to do with money? The problem as he summed it up to me today was: We are living in a rented apartment – and these are things he is totally and completely against (both renting and flat dwelling)- and he does not have space for his hobbies: gardening, and woodwork. And this is actually reason enough for him to break up with me? Aren’t there really any other solutions? Go figure.

His mother ended her mail by saying: “I don’t like this type of messages, now I have another thing to worry about and spend sleepless nights over, like this last night”. Well, now you can stop wondering why he turned out as selfish as he is.

Back to Square One

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

Guess what? I am back where I started. I have been sugar-coating reality for a while now. I made myself believe that my husband and I have truly made amends. We got back together, had a healthy love life, and even had a beautiful baby boy. Go figure, it turns out that I was living an illusion. The husband that I fell in love with again for the last two years is not happy. He has been biting his tongue and putting up with my weirdness. Really? He either did very good pretending or I was incredibly naive. He claims it is the latter.

Well, I have enough on my plate fixing the errors of my life, so unfortunately I cannot take on fixing half a century of mistakes for him. This doesn’t change things for me in the least, I have got the word divorce out of my system for good, and whatever happens next I am content with being a mom to my precious baby.
I am still hoping for a miracle, that he will find some interest to keep him busy. A vocation, a calling, a job, a hobby, anything, I am really desperate. I was naive enough to think that his interest in his son will be the thing to bring him back from the brink of depression. I was wrong, we will see what he comes up with.
Meanwhile, the errors of the past are rehashed for me. My mean spirited breakup with him on his birthday, and the way I made him sell the business. I roll my eyes heavenwards and ask God, if I was guilty as charged of the first, I was never party to the second, but of course, he is convinced otherwise.

So here we go again, and the saddest thing, my little boy will be taking the consequences.