Sense of relief

I finally told my boss today that D and I are divorcing, and that I want to file for an annulment.

This was a huge, huge task that I’d been putting off for months.  Partially because, when D told me that he wanted to separate back in April of 2012, I broke down and became an uncontrollable mess for months.  It really affected my output of work, to the point where my boss finally said “I know you’re going through a difficult time, but I need my secretary” and I knew I had to buck up and start putting myself together.  And partially because my boss was very vocal, in the beginning, about my marriage being a Catholic marriage and I had to fulfill my end of the bargain, and work it out.  I didn’t want to seem like I was giving up.

That last sentence would probably seem laughable to most of my friends.  Most of my friends have argued that it wasn’t “giving up”.  Even D said, back in September, “Meg has given me more chances than I ever deserved.”  To most people, I’ve hung on far too long — and maybe I have.  But I’ve lived with this horrible, horrible fear of being judged as flighty, or not taking my marriage seriously.  My friends and family, hell, even D, will tell you that this is anything but the case.  But I couldn’t make myself understand it, at all.  I felt like I had to go down with this ship, I had the ring on my finger, I had put my head to the grindstone and I had to make it work at all costs.

I hadn’t meant to tell my boss today.  My boss is a Catholic priest — furthermore, he married D and I two years ago.  The idea of telling the man who married us that we hadn’t managed to make it work chilled me.  I didn’t know how I’d ever do it.  But I did.  It just sort of came out.  We were talking about marriages and annulments and vocations and I just…blurted it out.

And he understood.  He shook his head and told me I was better off, under the circumstances, filing for divorce and applying for the annulment.  The fact that D told me he doesn’t know if and when he’ll ever be ready to have children, coupled with the fact that he hasn’t attended Mass since we got married and has no faith in the Church, pretty much nullifies our Catholic marriage right there.  I always knew that D only agreed to marry in the Church because I was Catholic and he knew it meant a lot to me.  But when we got married, he said he felt it was the right choice, that he was glad we had a Catholic marriage, that we would have children in time and he was okay with raising them Catholic.  All of that fell apart within the first year of marriage.

The weight that fell off of my shoulders when I confessed everything to my boss, and when he gave me that response, was incredible.  I felt like the terrible fear I’d experienced since December was finally gone.  He was the last person I had to tell…and now I am free.  D still has to talk to my IL’s about our divorce, but he has to do that, not me, and it’s not my responsibility.  Though I’m dreading the conversations that I will have with my IL’s (if they see fit to contact me) after he finally ‘fesses up, I have no more mountains to climb when it comes to telling the truth…and I feel…bittersweet, but free.

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Death of all dreams

We’ve been separated now for two months.  There is a reason why we’re not divorced yet, and that reason is twofold.  1) Because as much as D wants to be single and live by himself, he is not ready to fully take responsibility for his actions.  And 2) because I’ve been deluding myself the entire time, hoping that his reluctance to proceed heralded him rethinking this, that maybe he would undo what had been broken, and maybe — just maybe — we didn’t have to do this.

That’s not true.

I cried last night (this is nothing new, I cry all the damn time).  I cried because everyone is right; certainly, he is dragging his feet, but I am not forcing him to face up to what he has done, what he has destroyed.  I am not facing up to what he has destroyed.  There before me, on a funeral pyre, are all the dreams I had for myself, all the unfulfilled promise that we had when we met, aged 23 and 24, so ridiculously in love, ready to embark on this great journey of life.  We were going to be different.  I know that nobody goes into a marriage planning on divorcing.  From day one, we said that divorce was not an option.  And then…it was.

They lie there, on this mythological pyre, so many memories and dreams and plans.  I turn them over in my hands before putting them back down.

Lazy summer days at Hampton Beach, watching the sun go down, laughing at chubby-legged infants being bounced in and out of the waves by their proud parents, imagining bringing our own chubby baby with brown curly hair here someday.

The way he would languidly grab my waist when I tried to get out of bed on Saturdays, dragging me back in, begging for just ten more minutes of cuddling before we actually had to get up and face the day.

That wonderful afternoon we spent at the reservoir in Lawrence, rolling down the green sloping hill, throwing new fallen autumn leaves at each other, kissing, always kissing.  I never imagined a day when those kisses would stop coming.  I never knew they had a finite end, that within five years I would not be able to coax a kiss from him again.

The future — the dreams we had.  The house in Wakefield, Massachusetts, with a finished basement and an office for me.  Children, a boy and a girl, hopefully, that we would send to private school, that I would teach to ice skate, that he would play catch with.  A husky puppy.  Growing old together, just like his grandparents, two people in mutual love forever.

All of that changed the day he texted me at work, the day he told me he felt nothing for me anymore.  It’s been a year and a half, almost.  And although he has stripped the memories, the dreams, the hopes, even the love, bare, and laid them on the pyre, I haven’t been able to set the pile alight.  Because you see, he won’t.  He won’t do it.  Only I can do it.  Because he never will.

He left them there and walked away, he thinks I can never bring myself to end what I never wanted to end.  To light all of those dreams on fire, watch them melt and run together and evaporate into thin air.

He doesn’t realize that once they are burned, once they are gone forever, once I give them up…I can start dreaming again.  I can hope again.

I just have to find a way to strike the match.

Lord, help me find a way to strike the match.

If I’m so harmless, why are you so threatened?

I’m going to talk about something I never bring up.

Politics.

I know, right?

 

I am registered Independent.  When it comes to social issues, I am 100% liberal.  When it comes to economic issues, I am about 50-50.  War, gun control?  Liberal.  Education?  Conservative.  It’s tough.  If anything, I am a moderate.  I have always believed that this country (the U.S.) works best when neither of the two major parties has complete control (and I was just a kid during the Clinton administration, but I thought we were doing pretty well back then).

It’s even more tough coming from a religious family that identifies as liberal, and working for a religious organization that identifies itself as conservative.  I’ve worked here for five years.  I have never betrayed a hint of my religious leanings, even in the face of people ridiculing what I believe in.  Because contrary to popular belief, I am not insane, nor do I wish to bring arguments and black stares upon my head.  It makes me angry that I feel I cannot be open about my political ideas here without bringing negativity upon my head.  The few times that people have lambasted my father for his open political leanings in front of me, it has infuriated me.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve seen a lot of people bitching about third party voting.  Conservatives claim that “A vote for Gary Johnson is a vote for Obama” and that voting Libertarian, Green Party, or anything other than Democratic or Republican is nothing more than “throwing your vote away.”  Fox News (God I hate Fox News) had an article recently: Why Gary Johnson Could Cost Obama or Romney a Win in 2012.  Johnson himself is going before the public asking you to “waste your vote” on him.  If the public is correct (and hell, sometimes it is), we may have a game-changing race on our hands, like Perot in 1996 or Nader in 2000.

I find myself, at 29, agreeing more and more with the Libertarian party and policies.  Fiscal conservativism, social liberalism.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a moderate (still a liberal-leaning moderate), but I find myself listening to Johnson’s speech during the third-party debate and nodding my head in places.  I am someone who has disavowed the two-party system.  Neither party is working 100% for the people, and I’m starting to wonder, independently, how I feel about that.

I have no hopes or aspirations that Johnson will will; to be honest, I am not even sure that I will vote for him.  I have never voted third-party in an election in the 11 years since I was eligible to vote.  And even if I did, it doesn’t much make a difference: Connecticut has been a blue state in every presidential election since 1988 (although ironically enough, before that, we were a red state all the way back to the 1968 election).  We will be a blue state again.  My little vote hardly matters.

As the public keeps saying “it’s just throwing away your vote” to vote third party.

My question is…if it’s “throwing away” a vote, and hardly matters…why are you big politicians…on both sides…so threatened?