I had this all planned out in advance, and then I got a reality check that put everything into perspective and pretty much showed me that no matter how much shit I think I’m going through, it is like comparing a bird giving your car the white badge of courage to a Fukushima sized wall of shit coming at you at 90 MPH. I thought I was on an emotional roller coaster, but it is a ride on the Disneyland train by comparison.
That being said, I will continue and let you put it in context. Ladies, seven million years of evolution have left you with the knowledge that about 12 times a year for about four or five days at a time (14 days in the case of someone I know), your emotions are not entirely your own. Nothing you can do about it, but at least you and the people around you know it is coming and know, pretty much, what to expect. During the past couple of months, I have been experiencing some mood changes of my own. However, I have had pretty much no control over them. I feel as if someone is sitting in front of an emotional Ouija board and is moving the glass around as they wish. Angry, depressed, frustrated, morose, angry, stunned, desperate, numb, resigned, whatever takes their fancy. My moods have been changing on an hourly basis, and I don’t know how I am going to feel from one moment to the next. The slightest thing can set me off and there is no telling what that thing might be. Curiously enough, the one thing I haven’t experienced is tears. I guess to some extent I have had several years of grieving, if indeed that is the right word, for the fading away of our marriage.
In one way, I’m happy to see it go. I’m scared about the future for sure. I can deal with ambiguity, but seeing as there is so much still to be decided and/or organised, I worry about my future, especially in the short term. Some of this will be the subject of future posts, so I will try to stay on topic. My kids are, on occasions a bit of a challenge, Both are high spirited and so fucking smart it scares me. My son is headed for a PhD from MIT if I am any judge – even at 8 he was asking questions about black holes and on Sunday in the restaurant he was asking about nuclear weapons and events such as Chernobyl and Three Mile Island. My Daughter read all of the Harry Potter novels before she was seven and is sharp as a needle. Even having said that, there are times when they drive me crazy. Dinnertime is particularly difficult, as they are both tired and have little control, so it often devolves into a melee of disobedience and unacceptable behaviour. I find myself thinking “I can’t wait to get away from all this madness. I won’t miss it for a second”. To some extent this is true, as dinnertime often results in me having an attack of reflux just from the stress. But then I think “Do I really want to have dinner alone every night from now on?” How do I manage that polarity? There are times when I want to shout at the kids “Yeah?, well guess what? in a couple of weeks, you won’t have to listen to me at all, because I won’t fucking well be here!” I have also given up on some things. To quote Albert Einstein, “If a cluttered desk is the sign of a cluttered mind, of what is an empty desk a sign?” In my sons’ case, for desk, read room. I have done everything I can to get him to clean up his room, but for the last 8 weeks my attitude has been “This is no longer my problem. I won’t have to look at it for much longer, so why should I waste my breath?” It’s a dreadful thing, I know, but why should I bother any more?
I apologise for rambling on so, but it is after 11pm and I’ve had four pints of Pilsner Urquell and am still stone cold sober.. I’m dreading telling the kids, but it has to be done at some point. How do I cope with that? I’m still going to be a part of their lives, but how do I cope with my first night away from the house?