Tag: Ex

The Anticlimax of Divorce

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

Ron wasn’t so happy a few months ago when I started blogging tidbits that did not concern Robert directly. He said that this blog is about the baby and it should not be concerned with our personal life. I see things differently, and I feel what I am going through is also part of Robert’s life. In fact I blog about these experiences to put things in perspective, and to remember how lucky I am to have him at this point in my life.

Yesterday was a tough day for me. I was working as I always do every 2nd Sunday, because these are the days when Ron showed some willingness to “babysit” for me as I try to fill my quota of working hours. A friend called me at work to tell me that she spotted Ron with his girlfriend in front of our old flat, they were fussing over Robert in his pram. It hit me like a stab in the heart. When I closely examined my misery, I clearly identified it as sorrow for myself and my situation. Ron will find it very easy to move on, and god knows this city is full of single and available women. Whereas as a single mother of a young baby, I would score very low on the eligibility meter. The fact that I might never find a mate does not bother me at all, only the inferiority -and difficulty- of my position in comparison to Ron’s. Difficulty however is a property of being a mother as he once pointed out to me, not so gently.

It’s completely irrelevant to me whether Ron’s companion yesterday was a girlfriend or just a platonic friend who was helping him choose a new car seat for Robert, as he told me later. In fact, it is nothing to me, because as of tomorrow he will be a free man. But I am only human and perhaps my pain from what I heard was what led to our argument as he gave me and Robert a lift home. The crux of the argument was money as usual, and I am sure it will come to play between us many times in the future. The first ex-wife hasn’t finished arguing with him about this subject either.

Although he shouted at me that he will not “babysit” again for me. I was grateful that he did come to pick up Robert today and give me a lift into town. Otherwise, I would have had to take Robert to divorce court with me. The hearing for the divorce was scheduled for this morning at the High Court. My lawyer phoned yesterday to say that he wasn’t going to attend with me in court, and a trainee attorney was going to do it instead; A Muslim woman by the sound of her name. My case was so simple so I did not mind, besides the woman’s name translates as “the honest one” and to me this was auspicious. When I met her I was shocked by how young and pretty she was. She was pregnant, and expecting a baby boy in September, so we had lots to talk about. When we arrived at the advocates offices I was again handed over to one of the young guard. Perhaps it was just as well, as this put me at ease. Another auspicious name I thought when the advocate introduced himself with a biblical first name and a surname reminiscent of my son’s. The advocate explained the process to me since my case was going to be heard first in the roll of divorces. All the time the attorney and the advocates fussed over me to make sure that I wasn’t nervous.

I tried to tell myself that I was not nervous, but I was in fact preoccupied. Otherwise I would have taken much more in of my visit to the High Court. Something that I am not likely to do again in this lifetime, I hope. I do not know what route we took or how we got there, because I was busy talking a mile a minute. We arrived at the court room, the honest one explained the setting. The judge arrived shortly before ten and we all rose; he looked familiar. I was sure I have seen the honorable judge on television passing judgment on a high profile criminal case. The court was in session at 10:00 and I was out of there just before 11:30 .. a single woman. I was number 24 on the roll, but first the judge dealt with all the postponement requests, then the remaining cases were heard in order. None of the arguments took more than ten minutes so my turn came quickly. Unlike legal dramas on television, legal work is mostly accomplished outside of the courtroom. The judge had obviously studied all cases carefully because he asked all the pertinent questions. Matters of insolvency, debt and property registration were dispensed with first and then the judge turned to the divorces.

I was called to the witness box. After taking the oath I was asked to verify my details, the details of my marriage, and Robert’s birth date. I was asked to identify my signature and Ron’s on the consent agreement. Then the advocate asked the judge to grant a decree of divorce. The only question the judge asked me was if I worked. I answered that I worked part time. He then asked who looked after Robert while I was at work, and I said that he had a nanny. I should have addressed the judge as my lord, but I just gave straight answers and forgot to append my respectful address. I thought that Ron might have had a scathing comment about this if he had been attending. The judge granted the divorce and I was dismissed. The whole process took less than five minutes.

I returned to my honest attorney. She gave me a sunny smile and said: Congratulations. It felt really strange to be congratulated on something I did not feel really happy about. I was numb, I did not know how to feel. I still don’t.
Today was a brilliant and beautiful autumn day, the sky was clear and the sun warm. We walked back from the High Court to the lawyer’s office, and the honest one gave me a lift back home. I cannot complain about the way life is treating me; people are very supportive and I am endlessly grateful.
Jackie bought me a chocolate cake yesterday, and today there was a piece of blueberry cheesecake waiting for me. Ron dropped Robert off without a single comment, it is the shape of things to come I guess.

Still, there is some pain. As I was pushing Robert’s pram towards the park, I felt the sudden dejection and loss. I had a long relationship with Ron, and beyond the love I felt for him, and notwithstanding his lack of appreciation for me as a person, I gave him a deep and undivided commitment. It will take me some time to recover the person who dissolved into this long and rocky marriage.

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Counting the Pennies

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

I think I am paying too much rent, among my other many problems. When I mentioned an ad hock amount to my friend, I was still in a generous mood, and calculated on the base of an all inclusive rate. Now it comes out that I have to subsidize half of the water and electricity as well. I am already paying for my son’s babysitting and contributing my half share towards the cleaning. My generosity and tolerance are slowly reaching their limits as my limited resources dry up.
I collected my payslip from work today, and I was dismayed again at how little I get paid working part time. My deduction have skyrocketed since my company is trying to recover the salary they paid me by mistake when I was supposed to be on unpaid leave.

Now I am calculating and recalculating again my budget and wondering how the heck my son and I are supposed to manage on around R 900.00 a month for our groceries and supplies. I already suspect that we would pay much less if we were living on our own. I am not a cheapskate but I am very frugal and careful in my use of resources. I do not waste toilet paper, toothpaste, electricity or water. My house mistress on the other hand has grown up in a wealthy household and does not bother watching things like that. Now it is up to me to shoulder part of her extravagance.  Buying groceries is yet another matter. I am always intensely aware of what I buy and consume and never touch what is not mine. My house mistress in contrast is forgetful and digs in into my groceries, assuming they are hers, and forgetting that she used up whatever she bought last week. I try to avoid confusion by buying different brands than hers, but it is difficult when both of us regularly hunt for store specials. My focus at the moment is my son’s health and wellbeing. I do not skimp on his formula and cereal. As for me, I now look for the cheapest brands in the shop, I hardly ever buy meat and when I do I cook it into huge bowls of soup to make it go farther.

I am sure Mr. Negativity doesn’t have such concerns. He always was a carnivore of note, cooking a portion of meat every single day to support his monster metabolism. I am resorting to the humble potatoes, beans, and lentils. Luckily during winter time such foods are acceptable. By summertime I hope we will be in our own place.

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Major Setback

~ marobbie ~ 2 Comments

A month after I moved in with Jackie, I finally got the chance to set up my computer on a corner of her desk in the spare room. After time consuming gymnastics, where we moved the desk around and tried to get the wiring in some semblance of order I was faced with the reality that my computer had turned into an electronic brick. My hard drive has completely crashed and I fear that I lost my whole history of work and life in the past two years. Unfortunately this came at a very critical point of my existence. I am just battling to keep my head over water personally and financially. I am trying hard not to get the resentment against my boy’s father get the better of me, but today I lost the battle and I experienced a complete meltdown. I am ashamed to say that I called Ron to dump my misery on him.

Ron told me that he has his own blog. I am sure he will have plenty of time and space to spin the story of his victimhood online, but I do not have this luxury. I don’t have the time to keep dwelling on his negative personality traits and the ways he ruined my life with his stingy and self-centered approach to life.

In the end I only got myself to blame. The realities of the person stared me in the face for seven years, until I could take it no more. Three years ago I left him and came to Cape Town with nothing but a suitcase and a few crates of books. But even then he still had the power over me. He spun a tale that my heart believed and I could not break free, not completely. My mind wanted to, but my heart couldn’t. To be honest I wanted to believe, I made excuses for him, to explain why he left his first wife and two children. I turned a blind eye when he complained about the few cents of child support he paid them. I pray for forgiveness every day, because I was indirectly party to this. I never told anyone that when I went ahead with marrying him, he was still technically married to his first wife. I briefly met the woman once, and it wasn’t pleasant. She gave him a piece of her mind, calling him a coward, because he was uncomfortable visiting his children. At the time I just brushed the outburst aside as the ramblings of a foul-mouthed, bitter and jealous female. Now I am thinking otherwise.

Financially perhaps, the first wife had a better deal than me. She had the support of her family, she made a home for her children in a first world country and I do not think she needed to work to make ends meet. For me, things are hard at the moment; I rent a room at a friend’s house and my salary from part-time work just pays for babysitting. Ron’s “generous” maintenance does not cover my other expenses. My computer was my livelihood, it earned me some very good money in the past two years. I invested most of it good naturedly in what I thought was my “reborn” marriage. I will get some of it back later. But whatever I invested in the first seven years is water under the bridge, of course. That includes the salaries I earned working at the garage, which went into my husband’s personal account. He says they paid for the house that I will end up getting, but I doubt that this is the way things work in a divorce. A wife who does not financially contribute ANYTHING is still entitled to half a share. But now I came at leaner times, when the stingy man’s wealth has diminished, and he doesn’t have the promise of a cushy expat retirement in his future anymore. I have to bear the consequences. In time things will improve, I will get money out of the divorce settlement and the sale of our assets. Financially, I will never be rich or even comfortable, but my life as a mom is so much richer and more rewarding.

Ron bargained with me long on the settlement of our divorce. Almost everyone I know tells me that I let him off easy, but I have no desire to waste my time, and sue him for every cent he owes me. I can walk away from the bitter feud, and spend my energies on my little one. Robert made me touch my deepest resources of love and commitment, while the demands of raising him exposed the critical flaws in his father’s soul. He simply isn’t father material. My own fortunate childhood has brought me here, I suppose. Because I was unable to understand that some parents have no qualms in putting their needs first. I did not think for one moment that Ron will turn his back on the chance to be a parent for a second time, because I believed that he regretted doing so in his first marriage.
My life has fallen apart completely, but I can still find strength and purpose in my son. Although at the moment I don’t know how this will be possible, I will turn my life around, for my son. I will give him the life and the childhood he deserves.
His dad can go on with his social life, live for the sole purpose of finding his solitary happiness. He was never happy, and I won’t be surprised if he never gets there. He may go on into a new relationship, but he will keep his egocentric priorities. I will teach myself to stop hurting, and stop caring for his fate. The only part of him that I care about resides in the same room with me.

One day I will re-read the early entries of this blog, where I never stopped singing the praises of a transformed and changed Ron, and I will forgive my gullible stupidity. As I write this I question the wisdom of keeping myself open to him and his family through this blog, when as early as January he started to close up on me, confide with close family and hang out with a constellation of “friends” I know nothing about. Then again I tell myself, I have nothing to hide.

I only ever had one face to show to the world, it is my true face, and my true colours. He is the one who keeps trying to play a part, convince himself that he is somebody brilliant, somebody misunderstood, and just a little bit down on his luck. Some other poor soul will take pity on him, as I did, and this person will be blinded into believing that he hasn’t diserved to reap what he had sown. He can go on doing this, indefinetely if he wants. As for me, I will keep my wounds open to the wind. Better for them to heal, and for the bleeding to stop. In fact, it already has.

The Daily Routine

~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

I am slowly getting used to new rules and my new housemate. She is definitely not as demanding as Mr. Negativity, and simply lets me experience my freedom. The first few days were tough, I drove myself nuts trying to find my things, and kept losing every item after a few seconds of putting it down somewhere. I was trying to find spots for my stuff, in the fridge, in the pantry, in the cupboards and on the bathroom shelves. It is difficult to move into someone else’s space, and I have to keep reminding myself that my baby and I are simply paying house-guests here, and we need to adjust to this house’s rules. Still, it is far easier to be myself here than it was with Mr. Negativity.

I spent my first weekend in years without going outside the front door. This was unheard of in my marriage where one needs to get out for some exercise or fresh air. I am now eating generous helpings of food, after years of watching my portions. I always ate behind the man’s back just to spare myself his scathing comments about how much I eat. It doesn’t help pointing out my slim figure, or the calories I need as a breastfeeding mother. Now I can indulge my craving for chocolate without being asked whether I need it or not, and as the weather turns cooler I have a tin of hot chocolate close at hand,  not hidden in some inaccessible corner of the kitchen cupboard.  In short, life is getting back to normal for me. I am living -mostly- by my own rules.

The price though is considerable. I hand-wash our clothes every other day. I walk to the shops to buy things and carry the groceries home. I bargain hunt, and count our pennies. Worst of all, I have to tell my sorry story to the people at work in order to get suitable shifts, and working hours. I hate the notoriety of walking in and out of the floor at odd hours, and having to endure the questioning or the pitying look. It is especially humiliating since some people know that this is my second trip to breakup land (with the same man). I know that even some of my closest friends think that I landed into this predicament because of my rare stupidity. But, believe me, it is easy to be fooled by someone you love (or someone you want to love). We give those we love the power to fool us because we want to believe them. Regardless of what brought me here, I will get over it. I will survive my foolishness and carry on.

My little one and I survived the first few weeks. He had his first fever last week, and I had to miss work for two days because of that.  The next few weeks we endured the long walks back and forth to his father’s. Dropping him off before I went to work in the early morning, and picking him up after I finished. Baby is also getting used to Nanny. She will look after him three afternoons a week, when I am at work. Nanny brought up her fair share of young ones including my housemate. This arrangement means that I only need Mr. Negativity to babysit every other Sunday. This suits me fine, and I do not want to ask him for any more.  He has already metioned several times that is helping me babysit this month for free. Yes, he is the baby’s father, although sometimes I really wish it wasn’t so. I hope and pray my boy does not take after his sire.