A couple of weeks ago we moved out of our apartment.
I’m staying at my mom’s house. Living in the basement.
My wife and kids are living with her parents.
I’ve been spending most of my waking hours with my boys. I miss living with them, but I’m glad I get to be with them so much.
It’s more than most separated/divorced dads get.
It’s been a while since my last post.
I’ve moved out of our apartment. Into my mom’s basement.
I’ve only spent one night there. A long night.
I’m still staying at the apartment most nights.
I got a new laptop. The old one kept overheating.
The wi-fi connection on the new one is flaky. I’m not sure why.
No job yet. I’m not sure what to do about that.
I ought to start a business. I’m not sure I’m up to it.
I need to do something, though.
I hate moving.
I started moving stuff as soon as I could. I didn’t want to be scrambling at the last minute.
Moving my things hasn’t affected my emotions.
A few days ago my wife had my kids start packing, though.
That got to me.
My boys they were oblivious. “Dad, can you tape this box for me?”
It made it real for me.
At first she was going to start living with her parents. She’d just come back to pack up.
Then she decided to just stay there on weekends. The boys didn’t want to change schools.
She ended up not going at all this last weekend.
I took my older son to see The Last Jedi. My younger son was afraid it would be scary.
I don’t know the future.
I’m glad I spent time with my boys.
I know they’ll to be okay.
So will I.
And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
I have a love/hate relationship with my antidepressant.
I forgot to take it yesterday.
Today I feel really dizzy. Confused. Irritable.
When I take them I don’t feel suicidal. At all. Ever.
I can’t put a price on that.
Before I’d have a fight with my wife. I’d leave. I’d think about ways to kill myself. I’d cry a lot.
I don’t have to deal with that anymore.
I hate that it takes a drug not to feel that way.
I hate that my doctor will only give me a three-month supply.
I hate that he demands that I make another office visit before he’ll give me more.
That doesn’t feel like freedom.
It feels like slavery.
I’ve thought about just quitting.
I tried it once. I went three days without it.
I was okay for a while. The last day I had a meltdown.
I was on a lower dose at the time.
I’ve thought about gradually reducing my dose. That’s what I’ll do when I decide to stop.
I think I need to wait until after my wife moves out with the boys.
I might even need a higher dose to get through that.
I hate this.
My five-year-old sleeps in my wife’s bed. He has for a few months now.
He goes to sleep a lot earlier than she does.
He always wants someone to be with him.
My wife is usually busy with homework.
I don’t mind laying down with him. Most nights that’s what I do.
The other night I was laying down with him. I was rubbing his hair.
My mind kept wandering. I reminded myself that my time with my boys is short. I tried to stay focused on being with him.
I realized there wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be right then.
What better place could there be?
I was pretty sheltered as a kid.
My dad died when I was three.
My mom kept me home most of the time. I was happy there, so I didn’t mind.
In the LDS church young men are expected to serve a full-time mission for two years. At that time they would go at age nineteen.
I was afraid of being on my own for that long.
I’d been on my own at scout camps and events, but that was it.
I was afraid of being far from home.
I had always wanted to get married. That seemed a lot safer, and I’d always been romantically inclined.
I had a plan.
Right after high school I would go to college for a year. While I was there I would find someone to marry.
Never mind that I had never gone out on a date before.
Never mind that I was afraid to even talk to girls.
My plan was foolproof.
What could possibly go wrong?
“Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.”
– J.K. Rowling
I haven’t hit bottom. Not yet.
To be honest, I’m kind of looking forward to it.
I’m not looking forward to being divorced from my wife.
I’m not looking forward to living in my mom’s basement. (Sigh…)
I’m especially not looking forward to being separated from my boys
I’m looking forward to making progress. To getting myself on the right path. To really working toward achieving greatness. To being a good example for my boys.
With the help of a loving Heavenly Father I can do it.
With his help I can do anything.
Last Thursday I blew up at my wife.
She was filing for divorce online and asking me questions.
I got irritated and eventually exploded. I said a lot of hurtful things that I regret.
At one point I thought about killing myself. I hadn’t thought about that for a long time.
Eventually I calmed down and apologized.
Later I realized I wasn’t as okay with the divorce as I had thought.
Part of me was still hoping she’d change her mind.