The Midlife Debutante Random Thoughts Starting Over (Again)

Starting Over (Again)


The Midlife Debutante Blog Starting Over

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I’d like to tell you that there are no tears involved in writing this post. Even the phrase “starting over” turns on the waterworks. Not the ugly crying. Not the uncontrolled sobbing that you do when something breaks your heart. When you lose something of great value.

I’ve done that crying. Many times. This is the kind of tear you shed when you write something honest that goes to the core of your being. Here I am at the proverbial start line. Again. And there are plenty of things that my inner critic wants me to hear.

Like I am not worthy of happy endings. There are days when I hear that, like a nagging voice that says happiness is easy for other people. But not me. Like the kid that is last to be chosen on the baseball team, there I am. Standing as tall as I can. Eagerly waiting. Begging with my eyes to be chosen for that “happy ever after”.

Strike One in Marriage

Or that there is something wrong with me. I mean, how can you mess up the conventional path in life? The plan was to graduate, start my career, find a great guy and buy a house. Then have two kids I could love with my whole being. Raise them. Guide them.

Have a partner that was truly my best friend. Everyone says that their partner is their best friend. After two divorces and almost five decades, I have to call that a lie. It’s what you are supposed to say. But it’s not always true. In fact, I think it’s rarely true. Supported by the 50%+ divorce rate in North America.

I tried twice. The first marriage was a mismatch. There was nothing wrong with him. On lighter days I may think there was nothing wrong with me either. We just didn’t fit because I was unhappy in the relationship. A shy, good, hardworking man who I loved like a brother. And that was really the problem.

The divorce hurt because he was such a nice guy. A great guy. Just not the guy for me. And I wasn’t the right woman for him either. He found her about three years later. The man that didn’t want kids ended up with a beautiful son, and a doting wife. Someone who loved to read as much as he did. An introvert who didn’t give him an ulcer with her eccentricities.

Strike Two in Marriage

The second marriage, I swung that pendulum far to the extreme right. An American man. The life of the party. Lusty. Outgoing. Former high school football star. Talkative. Encouraging and supportive. And he came with twin boys I met at the age of five. The part that ached to be a mother fell fast in love with them. And him.

But not his demons. Which were not apparent to me before I jumped in headfirst and immigrated to the United States. A difficult process. An administrative error (my bad… first time moving to a new country) made it even more difficult. A nightmare in fact of legal red tape that seemed to get worse during a certain President’s administration. You probably know who I mean.

I can’t explain why I ignored the red flags, except to say I loved him. There were plenty of warnings. Loving friends pointed them out but I am a Taurus. When I want something, I go for it. And I wanted him. Or, who I thought he was. It turns out that some people are really good at hiding their flaws until you are living together. Or perhaps, they were always there, and I was too blind to see them. Or consider the consequences of them on my life.

Body and Mind Connect: Unhappy Means Unhealthy

For three years in a row, my sadness tanked my immune system. I almost died three times, each year in succession. Including my hospitalization for Covid-19 in March 2020. You see, I have hereditary diabetes.

Sepsis almost took me out twice, before Covid had its way with me. But I am here, and gratefully so. The hospital visits and recuperation humbled me. And gave me a lot of time to think. And confront my unhappiness in the relationship, and all the stress, legal turmoil, and recklessness of my partner.

I was fighting immigration. Stupid clerical error. Literally the wrong form. And during the Trump Administration, USCIS became very slow. Because everything was changing it seemed, at the whim of the President, on a monthly basis. And then he diverted resources from processing in immigration to ICE. So they could trap and cage more Mexicans at the border. Crass? Yep. Honest? You betchya.

Ever get a deportation letter and summons? You think your life is stressful? Hah. Try not to sleep, biting your nails every hour worrying, while navigating the legal aspects. Former got handed a huge commission from a life insurance agent who died while processing a large policy. The one time in our relationship where he hit a home run and “saved the day”. He paid the $4700 for the immigration lawyer.

But he was bitter about it. And I made a note of that too.

Avoidable Stressors and Bad Decisions

My husband kept getting into deliberate, illegal, and highly avoidable trouble. One example was pocketing the annual insurance money I gave him for the used boat we bought. He embarrassed me in front of his friends at the lake “I’m an INSURANCE PROFESSIONAL okay? Let me handle this”. So I did. I handed over the cash.

He pocketed and spent the cash and set up a monthly payment plan. Except, since his account ran on zero 99% of the time, the first payment bounced. I did not know we were riding in an uninsured boat. Until he didn’t trim the outboard when he parked the boat (probably impaired after riding around on the lake with his bro’s). The boat half sank. Tied only to the dock by the bow and stern moorings at a right angle in the water.

When he called the insurance company he was surprised to learn there was no policy. Pretty good for an insurance professional, right? And then he humbly approached me to let me know. I lost it. Completely. And he stared with his big brown manipulative eyes and said “the marina needs a debit card to pay out the recovery cost of the boat and the environmental clean up”. Meaning… he expected me to pay for it.

Perhaps for the first time in his life, my former was held accountable for his mess. “Give them your card; figure it out. Your scam. Your problem”. And I saw him harden.

Reaching the Breaking Point and Realizing There Was Nothing There to Break

At some point, I realized I was not in a marriage. I was in a financially codependent situation. As I began to cut back the cash flow, he got more hostile. Dismissive. I’d wake up at 2 am on a Tuesday and he would not be home. After calling him, he was at the casino with a friend. And sounded impaired as he was driving them home.

He had pending charges from his “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” about two blocks away from the police station with known drug felons. Great idea right? I learned for the first time how to post bail. I was humiliated sitting there among some of the roughest people I’d ever seen. Trying to get him out. Until the kindly Bail Bondsman said “Honey, if you were my daughter, I wouldn’t want you sittin’ here… go home, I will call you as soon as we can post bail for him”.

I didn’t sleep for about thirty-six hours. And when he got home from his brief holding stint in County Jail there was no appreciation. I fought to get him out before the weekend (or he would have been stuck there for days). He laid on the couch and was in emotional shock. Unresponsive except to be hostile and rude to me when he did talk. After four days of being gentle, and taking those knives and arrows, I. LET. HIM. HAVE. IT.

I asked myself what I would lose through divorce. And the answer was ‘nothing”.

When the Blindfold Came Off I Did Not Like or Respect Who He Really Was

What I saw in his eyes was ambivalence. He pitied himself but was incapable of self-ownership. He was not humbled by his mistake(s). He was pissed he got caught. That was mirrored in conversations I overheard with his friends. Was he actually making this something that would make him seem cooler? “Hey look, dudes, I have criminal charges too and was in County Jail!”

Not kidding. And as I worked on my business, writing, and taking care of my clients, things started to add up. All the time we went to the lake and parked the boat on a beach? There he was “being the man” on the boat I paid for. With the booze, I paid for. And the food I provided. He almost never checked on me. Like his family gatherings, I was left alone. Save for the occasional drunk dude who would be like “you’re really hot for a fat chick”. Thanks… loser.

I was invisible. I felt lonely. Uncared for. My only purpose was to provide money. Because it was, in retrospect. He didn’t love me. I was his fixer. Like his previous partner, an older businesswoman. Who claims he also cheated on her. And their relationship didn’t tank until she stopped making big bucks in her business. Imagine that.

So, the conman emerged. Or my profile of him as thus. And I started to see things as they actually were. Who I was married to was a criminal mind. And I could not trust him.

Addiction to Heavy Drugs on the Downlow

His use of heavy drugs was a surprise to me. I had NO CLUE. Meth is an evil drug. Many people in his family struggle with drug and alcohol abuse. By the way, his stepfather (who I still love dearly) is a retired undercover drug cop.

Once I found a drug pipe on the front lawn. I wouldn’t even touch it. He grabbed it when he got home and said he was throwing it out. Later, I found it in the drawer of his desk. WTF!! Boy, I was angry. He said he forgot to throw it out. I made him smash it, and he looked pissed. I didn’t connect the dots.

It was not until June of this year I learned he was in a second DUI. Testing positive for both THC and Meth. Suddenly the time he was innocently pulled over in Oklahoma with a hitchhiker with a backpack full of Meth? DING! I actually believed him that he was being a good Christian.

His lies started to become transparent. He was in Oklahoma to write an insurance policy? I don’t think he was appointed in Oklahoma. So instead of going to work, he ended up getting pulled over for weaving on the highway, with a hitchhiker and a backpack of Meth.

I was stupid. That’s the love thing again. How do I know I really did love him once? Because I didn’t question him. But I should have. I had a choice to make.

Reconnecting With My Core Beings

I chose myself. And when I did, I started to dream of a little girl with big brown eyes and long black hair again. She hid for a long time. She wouldn’t talk to me. Sometimes I caught glimpses of her in my dreams but she was distant. Not angry, but deeply sorrowful. Staring at me from under a cluster of willow trees at the back of my grandfathers. With a large dragon. Its tail wrapped protectively around her.

Both of them stared at me for years when I did see them. Asking me a question with their eyes; the answer I already knew. She was not safe. She was not happy. And the dragon was impotent to do anything but wrap itself around her to protect her, the best it could. While both of them waited wounded, for my self-awareness.

You’ll hear me talk about both of them frequently. Both as entities of my being. And why they live in the garden of my heart, under those willow trees. And guide me to a stronger sense of self-love. But most importantly, I now know that when they are content, I am on the right track.

Breaking the Ice and Lies During the Ice Storm

During the ice storm of 2021, we sheltered his parents. Some deep conversations revealed some important lies. A charge he lied about was revealed. A drug bust in Florida, when he was 17. He told me it was a no-drugs paraphernalia charge. It turns out, according to his stepfather, it was a car, with another man, a pile of drugs, and over $4000 in cash. Distribution.

Someone I loved in England had done the research and revealed the charge. He begged me to listen. And not to marry my former. I did break up with my former, and three months later we reconciled. I was convinced my British former fling had been jealously lying. He wasn’t.

How much pain would I have saved myself, if only I had done the research myself? And then, the hostility from his mother was hard to tolerate at the best of times. Sitting on her couch she commented, “You know, most women would be grateful to have a husband that took care of them while they were sick”.

Feel that? So did I. And I had a great reply: “Most women would not tolerate the criminal behavior, financial irresponsibility, immaturity, and irresponsibility of your son. They would have kicked him to the curb years ago”. I’ll remember that look on her face with great satisfaction, for the rest of my life.

And somewhere in a field of daisies, the little black-haired girl and dragon rolled on the grass laughing. Because the spell was broken.

Manipulators Get Angry When Their Scripts Don’t Work Anymore

I do not regret marrying him. Only because of the light and love that his children brought to my life. I tasted a glimpse of motherhood that filled my heart. And I will have those memories (and my relationship with the twins) forever. But the chaos, threat, irresponsibility, and criminal nature of their father has no part in my life. Or my future.

He tantrumed. Tried to manipulate forgiveness. There was none left in my heart to give. I actually, for the most part, stayed calm. Happiness poured into me, like someone who knows they are going to be freed from incarceration may feel. Counting the days to leaving the hell of the relationship behind me.

I did nice things for him. Bought boxes and tape, and filled the room with boxes to help him pack. I purged my stuff methodically every night. Found a new place to live in Austin and paid the deposits. Broke as a Joke joe… well, his world began to collapse in on him. He beat the drug charges thanks to timing out on statutes of limitations. And by May 27th, the house was sold, we were moved out, and I was on my way to a better life.

He composed a speech. Begged. And then when none of his manipulation tactics worked, he became hostile. At one point while bickering, he drew his arm back to punch me in the face. He got one stern warning and stayed away from me for the duration.

Crash Bang Boom!

From April to the end of May, Captain Responsible was able to get his truck stolen (from the casino) and didn’t have the $50 to get the rental car from the insurance company. After he managed to find that money (not from me) a few days later he cracked up the rental.

He came barreling in peering out the front blinds like the DEA was outside. I was dressed for a meeting, inquired, and looked to see three police cruisers with lights on. After talking to the police, it was apparent that he had run into a concrete barrier with the rental. And was reported as an impaired driver. They let him off with a warning, after I told them we were getting divorced.

I promised the police that he would sleep before driving again. I went out to get him breakfast and the money I owed him for bills. Coming back, he was showered and dressed, gobbled the free food, and headed out again, against my protests. Later that night he wrote off the rental vehicle rolling it. And had to go to a hospital for a check-up.

Two weeks after I moved to Austin, he was in another serious car accident. Thrown from the vehicle. Leg crushed and almost amputated. In the hospital his parents cracked down on him. He tested positive for Meth and THC. And tried having people sneak drugs to him while under care.

Dr. Frankenstein, meet your monster. Enjoy rehabbing your perfect son.

Starting Over As a Victory (Not a Failure)

Am I lonely? Frequently. Do I miss the kids? Like an amputation. But that is the cost of separating my life from my former and the chaos and criminality of his world. Is he a totally bad guy? Let’s just say that just because someone acts nice and fun, doesn’t mean they are a good person. They may be just good at self-selling. Dig deeper, and you find demons of epic proportions.

Which are not mine to exorcise, manage, or be victimized by ever again. Recently I drove up to my old home. A two-signature refund check would give him money for Christmas gifts since he is on disability. More likely, the money went to drugs and the casino. But that’s his business, not mine. Those are his demons. Not mine.

I’m starting over again. And that’s a good thing, even on days when I feel discouraged, unlucky, and unsafe in my single existence. I remind myself to count the blessings. And to cherish life as the gift that it is. Even when the road is winding, and rocky. Because life is precious. And every day is another chance to be present in possibilities. And hope.

The road to fixing things he messed up will be long. But I will get there with focus and hard work. And a little faith in myself. And for the kid’s sake, I hope he finds a better path. His self-destructive nature has victimized and disappointed them.

And they deserve better. Like I do.

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