D.I.V.O.R.C.E

I’m divorced.

I’m divorced.

I’m divorced.

If I say it enough times, it might feel real. Or transport me out of this shitty world and into one where divorcees don’t feel like dirty used goods. One where we are revered; a world where people wear images of us around their necks that they rub in times of need, and clamour to kiss the hems of our slutty divorcee robes.

Nope.

Still here.

It’s not like I had any desire at all to stay married to the wanker. Or that I’d ever unwish the time we spent together. We made The Boy. He is amazing and wonderful in ways I can’t even begin to express. (I’ll try. This morning, in the car: “Mummy, if you open your mouth like this and breathe in – you can smell your brain!” Gentle probing revealed he meant that if you breathe out on a cold day, you can see your breath, but that’s not half as interesting.)

So I don’t know why I’m so thoroughly pissed off, really. I’m still angry, I guess. Angry that The Boy doesn’t get the deal he deserves, the traditional nuclear family. Angry that my ex-husband threw it all away for a relationship that, by his own admission, isn’t very good. And angry that, in spite of this, he’s getting what I want. A family, a new baby (due next Monday – yay!). How is that fair?! He doesn’t even seem to want it. WANKER.

It feels like the only progress I’ve made in my own life in the last year is not slipping any further backwards. Which I know is an achievement given all that has happened, but it doesn’t feel like one. I hate standing still and treading water. HATE it. I can’t move house yet for various tedious financial reasons, I can’t move jobs yet, I can’t see myself ever finding someone who’ll put up with my fucking mentalness… I feel trapped and stuck and stagnant. And it really pisses me off.

Yeah. I’m pissed off.

In other news, people are finding my blog through the phrases ‘fuck off’, ‘fuck you’ and ‘fuck off you timewasting bastard’. Which suits the general vibe over here. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck off. FUCK OFF. There. Let all the angry people on the internet find their way to me. Let my profanities be a shining beacon for all of those who are dispirited and in dark places. Suffer little children, come unto me… We can be totally fucking miserable together. Fuck.

 

 

 

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19 Comments on “D.I.V.O.R.C.E”

  1. matchpenalty says:

    I’m with you, both the fuck off, and the fucking miserable stuckness.

  2. lynnhalsted says:

    twice divorced. no kids. cats. got them both.

    it’s hard, but anger is good, and humor is even better and it seems you’ve got both. yeah!

    i like the way you write and your use of the word FUCK. my favorite word by far.

    cheers and fuck

    lynn

    http://www.56menandothermistakes.com

  3. Wait until the Boy starts saying fuck – it’ll just give your ex one more thing to criticize about your parenting.
    And yeah, be angry – you fucking deserve to be!

    • Bugger is his swear word of choice. Happily, nothing to do with me – a little scrote at his nursery. Though he has copied the odd fuck from me, he doesn’t seem to realise it’s bad. He KNOWS bugger is bad. Little bugger… 😉

  4. BloomAnyway says:

    Fuck, you deserve to be angry. I feel it too.

  5. FUCK! By far my most favorite word in the English language. Sometimes it can only best be said by those four letters grouped together – F U C K

    Hmmmm, I wish I had some profound words to say regarding what you are feeling. I myself should have those words leave my lips in a few more months and as it gets closer it makes me feel weird. I want it. I want to be finished. I want to be disconnected from him so bad. But, there is still a bittersweetness to it, even if he does have a girlfriend and I have a crush… we were still married, for 20 plus fucking years, and made three kids together. Yes, he’s a total narcissist mother fucker BUT somehow – I did marry him and tried tried tried to make it work.

    Hugs to you my friend. You couldn’t possibly be any more full of mentalness than me…trust me. It will get better for you, I know it will.

    • I love a good swear, and sometimes only a fuck will do. It’s an odd feeling, coming out the other side. I’m such a control freak. How DARE I not get the happily ever after I had planned?! Yeah, I know. I’ll get a different one. Probably…

  6. There have been a few times in my life where all I could do was not slip backwards… So hang on. Tie a knot at the end of your rope and hang on. These seasons are a part of life but won’t be all of your life. Hugz

  7. Lady E says:

    I so totally understand the sentiment : Whatever happened to our lives? At times, it does feel so unreal to be where we are, rather than where we thought we’d be (well, where we should be, really). ie chatting to your dad on the phone, while hubby is changing your boy’s nappy, and you are thinking about your next shopping list.
    Anyway here’s my 2 pences worth, emergency total disaster swearing fit “shit, fuck, wank, bollocks, tosspot, meeeeerde!”
    Hang on in there, I know it sounds used and weak, but better days WILL come.
    xx
    PS. I nominated you for an award thingy last week, but wasn’t very good at letting you know. I’m a bit of a muppet with these things and wasn’t sure what I should be doing…So here, at least you know, congratulations 🙂

    • An award thingy! Yay! Thank you… *mwah* I really need to start better understanding how blogging communities work. For example, I have no idea if you will actually see that I have replied to your comment – you have to subscribe to this thread, yes? No? Um…

      As for the rest – I feel like a different person, the other side of 2011. People told me that R leaving would make me stronger, and I was really fucked off. I don’t want to BE stronger. And I didn’t notice any increase in strength. But then Dad dying… I feel very strong this year. I think it’s more that I have grown an aggressive, protective layer around myself rather than anything coming from the inside, but fuck it. Let’s not overanalyse things.

  8. Best expression I ever heard in this regard is “Fuck you, you fuckin’ fuck!” It’s available as novelty bumper stickers etc.

    • I like combining swear words: ‘Titwanking bastard motherfucker’, for example. I nearly deleted that. I swear if I tried to optimise this blog for search, I’d fail dismally, but throw in words like titwank and I KNOW what’s gonna pop up in my site stats tomorrow. Ah, let’s see…

      Fuck you, you fuckin’ fuck. I like it. Single-minded and unequivocal. Yes.

  9. My reaction is twofold: on one hand, I feel relieved that there are other people out there who feel like I do (damn you, Frampton…now I have that song stuck in my head), and on the other, I feel numbed that there are people out there who feel like I do.
    I’m sitting out in front of the STBX’s house, 3000 miles from the home I have made since relocation… Promising myself that whenever I return, I will never set foot in her house again, regardless of the situation. Knowing that it’s bs because of the boys.
    Yes, I agree. Fuck this nonsense. Fuck the sanctity of marriage. Fuck the snarky way two adults set out to hurt each other in the most subtle ways… While I’m at it, fuck sobriety, too.
    Ok, that last one made me giggle a bit, and that, IS something…

    • Honestly, there’s not much in the world that can’t be mended by some good fucking. More seriously, I’m sorry you’re feeling so… angry? Sad? Frustrated? All of the above? Tis truly crap, isn’t it… Fuck being a grown up.

      • Yes, it is truly crap, but…
        …The next day we had a HUGE fight earlier that day, but something happened later that I still cant fathom – we became friends again. I think it was because I confronted her about the “suitor” in the most dignified and civil way imaginable.
        And now?
        Not so sad or angry. It is all truly behind me. It’s like getting so far to the left of the screen that you reappear on the right. Reconstitution of personal reality. Whatever.
        I feel much better, there are no arguments on the horizon, we actually text (as friends), and the kids are happier.
        …And since I have returned 3000 miles, I *have* said “fuck sobriety” a couple of times, and it was GOOOOD….

        Being a grownup is sweet. I can buy ANY toy I want! From the toy store, that is.

      • Glad 3000 miles and a bit of left-to-righting helped you find yourself, and I hope you and STBX can continue to be friends. Me and my ex, we go from best pals to murderous she-bitch (on my part) in the blink of an eye. It must be very confusing for him, but fuck him. He left.


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