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vendredi 14 mai 2010

Getting all down in writing

Where to begin?

D has decided that he wants us to separate. His basis for this is that he needs his "independence" (well, yeah, OK, I can understand that the whole middle-aged-guy-with-virtually-no-income-living-off-his-"wife" thing might have got to him. Yeah, I can go with that) and that, as I have been trying to poison him (or otherwise do something to harm him physically and/or mentally, though nothing concrete has been stated), and trying to shag guys found on the internet and all other kinds of rubbish, irrational and deeply upsetting crap, he can no longer trust me about anything. According to him (on his "bad" days when he totally seems to hate me with a passion) I'm a compulsive liar, tyrant, hypocrite, bitch... who has, apparently, needed slapping on two separate occasions in the last couple of weeks. He told me (though he later retraced it) that he regrets everything about our 14 years together except for our beautiful daughters. He's seen a lawyer to get "official" separation papers and joint custody papers drawn up. He is now vaguely talking about wanting his share of the money we put down for flat back (24,000 euros!). He's irrational, unreasonable, totally unrecognisable and, on occasion, downright odious. At the ER the other night with C (she has a persistent, horrible cough and complains of headaches), the doctor examined C very superficially and then focused all his attention on D, recognising what I've already thought myself - that he's mentally ill, that his brain isn't processing information correctly, that he's misinterpreting what he believes are facts. Of course, D refutes this vehemently and refuses to see a psychiatrist. I've spoken to his pastor, who's given me the name of a counsellor that I'm going to try and see really soon (though probably not before the dreaded meeting with the lawyer). He's alienated some of our best friends (who totally agree with me, so he wants nothing to do with them. And no, I can't be blamed because he talked to them first), he's sent hideous e-mails to my best friend, M, in London saying odious things about me and refuses to retract them, he's all sweetness and light and lovey-dovey with the girls, all whilst ignoring me, he hears something I say and cackles at some private joke, as if I've once again proved his "theories" to be right.

He hasn't slept here for over a week. We've had endless "discussions" - often arguments - but neither of us will back down. I refuse, outright, to admit to any of the utter crap he accuses me of. And he refuses to accept that I'm telling the truth and says he can't trust me.

I'm trying to come to terms with the idea that I'll be spending the rest of my life alone, and that in the very near future I'll only be with my beautiful girls every other week.

There are times that I want him to come back, that I yearn for our happier times. And then there are others, when I hate him so much I could scream. He's destroying our family, he's hurting the girls, he's hurting our cat, he's fucking up our lives, all because he believes CRAP that isn't even remotely true. I'm 100% convinced he needs psychiatric help, but there' s almost no chance of that ever happening.

I'm being destroyed by the thought of only spending half my time with my babies. I can't bear the thought of it, it makes me feel sick inside. He doesn't have his own place yet (no job, no income, no benefits; he's staying with unnamed friends every night - though I know for a fact he stayed with someone in this building last night because I saw him come in at 10.30 pm and leave again this morning at 10) so the joint custody thing can't happen just yet, but it will, because he wants it so badly and isn't open to any kind of reconciliation process. This separation is "doing him good" and the fact that it's killing me and making the girls aggressive, tearful, withdrawn and unhappy is irrelevant.

My father's come (he barely knows the half of what's going on - it would kill him to think that I'm being accused of such horrors, that I've been slapped, that I've been treated so fucking badly) to stay for a whole week, which is sweet, but really tough. We're not, and have never been, a touchy-feely kind of family. I don't share emotions with my father. So, along with the fact that I'm totally overwhelmed with work, I also have to try and act as if this separation thing is actually super and fun and wanted by both of us. I'm exhausted, bled dry, a wreck.

I yearn to see my two closest friends, M and J in England, but can't afford either the time or the money to go. I booked us all a week in a gîte in Italy and have had to cancel (no return of the deposit, either, so that's 140 euros down the drain), so I probably won't be going anywhere this summer. I'd love to go and spend some time somewhere relaxing with the girls, my sweet babies, my angels, but I can't. I have to try and save up so I can take driving lessons, so I can use the car and gain in independence.

I feel like my life's in tatters right now. I'm finding it hard to concentrate, hard to be civil to D when he comes round, hard to forgive him for this totally craptastic situation that he's put us in. Of course, he blames me for it all and sees himself as the total victim. But he's a delusional, back-stabbing, mother-fucking liar. Yeah, I'm a little bitter.

I've got good friends, friends who care and who can help me, but it's the "garde alternée" that's doing me in - my babies don't have the same surname as I do, C's British passport is out of date, and L doesn't have British nationality. I swear, if D ever tries to take my babies away from me, I'll pursue him straight down to the gates of hell and back, I'll use every trick in the book to get them back.

Oh, Lord, this is such a mess. I love my dad so much, but can't wait for him to go home (next Wednesday) so I can just collapse in a blubbering mess on the floor in the evenings instead of having to make small-talk.

It's my birthday on Tuesday, and I'm dreading it. The girls want to come home from school for my birthday lunch, and I'm delighted that they do. What I don't want is D here, fouling up the atmosphere with his pointed remarks and surly looks and snide comments and private jokes and what have you. Right now, this evening, I would be quite happy for him not to do anything about my birthday whatsoever. But my father's here, so I'm not sure what's going to happen.

I'm a wreck and I don't know what to do, what to think. I feel horribly alone (yes, I said I've got friends, but the two best ones are in England, and the ones here all have kids, and work, and have their own lives, own hassles...), horribly in need of comfort, horribly scared about the future. I want my babies, I want to be with them, I want to be with them all the time.

Oh, Lord, please, stop this year from being such a suck-job, please help me find peace and happiness and freedom from all this crap, all the money problems that persist, persist, persist...

Please, help me!

1 commentaire:

Penny a dit…

I'm so sorry to hear this, although I suspected it was coming from your last post. I hope you have some good friends around you to help you through..

Big hugs