My Ex and I went to court in February and worked out a new agreement. Like always… on his end… his wants and needs have changed.
I sit here again. Looking at the angles. Trying to see what the universe is molding.
My Ex is a jerk. He knows it. As he says, there is no law against being a jerk. He’s right. There really is not. He gets great satisfaction out of saying inflammatory things. He likes to lash out.
I think about the days he writes out in the safety of messages:
You are self righteous. Martyr. Asshole. Cunt. Your little brain. Stupid. Karma is a bitch. You’ll never have cooperation from me. You are a terrible mother. You win. You lose.
His face scrunched up and fists clenched in anger over an not getting an hour on Christmas Eve. I didn’t even have to agree to Christmas Eve. I close my eyes and wish it away. Tantrums in his forties. Like this is a game and we are keeping score.
I never know how much damage he hopes his barbs do. They don’t do much most days. Some days they make me more irritable. They call my attention away from my actual life. I sit with the decisions in a place that feels too hot. In a place with no breeze. Just grating and oppressive.
I owe him no favors. None of my time or consideration. He has burnt, pillaged, and stolen from any bridge of peace and friendship that could have existed after our split.
You would think it is not a decision. Just stick to the agreement. Be hurtful and unhelpful and selfish. Except that all of these choices aren’t between him and I. First, I have to decide what is better for our daughter. This one I think is about logistics. A neutral thing. Neither beneficial nor hurtful to her. And so it becomes a harder choice.
It, for me, is never about my Ex and I anymore. All of these decisions, my actions, my choices when I look at his vileness towards me are about who I want to be. My core. My worth to myself. It is never between him and I. Everything I do is between my and my God, the universe, my soul.
That quote from Mother Teresa whispers deep to my core. The advice to do one right thing at a time rings deep. And yet here I am. Again. Circling. Looking at a chess board trying to decide if a different strategy will end the nonsense. Letting the resolve that there will never be an end to the fact He can never look at things and deem it enough.
Should I do what feels hard and foreign and NOT BEND? Tell him to figure it out. Is the universe who keeps putting this in my plate telling me to do something that feels NOT RIGHT and see what happens?
Because it is the only thing I haven’t done. And I’m tired, honestly. But I’m so fucking broken over the idea that that isn’t the right thing to do to another human. I’m stuck.
I’m hoping for a sign. A light. And orb. An inkling of what to do.
But first coffee and school and grocery shopping… because there still is the day to day.