Surreal/So Real

October, 2014

I'd returned home knowing that I was going to ask for a divorce, and yet even saying the words out loud felt impossible. It seemed as if every few minutes I'd come up short, startled at our perfectly ordinary life-- at how pedestrian and innocuous J looked-- and I'd think, "Really? I can't handle this?!" Followed immediately by my mind cycling through 15 years of patterns and behaviors, which triggered an immense exhaustion to descend upon me. I'd remember him saying, "I feel prompted by the spirit to tell you that everything is all right.." and suddenly, it would feel like my body was making the decision for me. Every atom within me would resolutely refuse to go forward. I was certain. I was done. 

But the need to go through that washer-machine churning of thought didn't stop. Endlessly, I went from shocked to resigned to determined, over and over again, all day long. One minute the decision would sound ludicrously surreal and the next it would simply be so real. I called lawyers. I made plans. I prayed about how to tell J. 

Amidst this, my mom got a call saying that her father, who was in the final stages of Alzheimer's, was not expected to live to see the end of the week. It was a completely unexpected development, knocking the wind out of us with its swiftness. We scrambled to get her a plane ticket and lodging, which she couldn't afford. My inclination was to put it on my credit card, but morally, I felt I had to talk to J about it first. 

That didn't go well.

"I don't trust your family to pay it back," was his reply. To which I argued that it was my credit card in my name. "You still have a balance on there from helping with your brother's wedding!" he accused. I reminded him that my parents had faithfully made payments and we had never once had to part with our own money, so what was his problem? But he refused. "You can have $200," he said. "It's a gift."

I felt sick. His response seemed incomprehensible to me. If he'd been even remotely noble, he would have said, "Credit card? Don't be silly! We have enough in our account to cover it. Tell your parents we'd be happy to help!" As it was, $200 wasn't enough for a one-way ticket, let alone a hotel room. In all other respects, we were completely debt free-- had just returned from Europe, for %&# sake-- and yet he could sound perfectly justified and reasonable in refusing to help my mother see my grandfather before he died. The selfishness of it astounded me. What was the point of financial security if not to make generosity in these moments possible?! But even worse was the way he could make it sound as if I was the foolish one, throwing good money after bad. I felt helpless to oppose him.

With the assistance of others, mom flew home to see her dad. The plan was for me to follow shortly after for the funeral, using the $200 'gift' since J's 'budget' didn't allow for my flight. However, as the day of my flight drew nearer, Grandpa was still clinging to life. Mom would call me every evening, emotionally shattered and spent. I longed to join her-- to say my own goodbyes, and try to ease the burden and be a comfort-- but J felt I shouldn't leave unless there was a funeral to go to. 

I don't know how to explain what an added stress that was; his obstinate lack of empathy and cold criticism of me. His assertions that I was selfish to plan on leaving without knowing when I would return felt just true enough that I agonized over them. Was I wrong to go? Was I putting too much of a burden on others to care for my children while I was away? On the other hand, could I really live with myself if I passed up the opportunity to support my family? Over money?!

I booked the ticket. 

When I told J about it he immediately offered his condolences, thinking that Grandpa had passed. When I told him otherwise, his silence spoke volumes. 

We had an appointment with our therapist the day before I was to leave. That morning, I went to the Temple, a bundle of nerves after determining that this would be the day I would tell J about the divorce. 

As I sat in the Celestial Room, my thoughts and feelings had a clarity and gentle peacefulness that they hadn't had before. I soaked it in, and as I often do, tried to divine what the future held by running scenarios by God and seeing if any of them produced a warm feeling of confirmation. 

Perhaps You need me to be certain because a looming divorce is the only thing that will snap J out of his addictive thinking? 

Perhaps You know that I would never threaten divorce for that purpose, but You will take advantage of my certainty and bless me with an added capacity for pain in the 11th hour? 

Perhaps our marriage can still be saved in some way I just haven't had the ability to see? 

Nothing. 

Try as I might, the future remained inscrutable. The only thing I felt sure of was that telling J I wanted a divorce was the next right step. 

I won't file until after Christmas, I decided. I'll tell him my decision and we'll move forward as if divorce is inexorable, but I won't file until after Christmas. God has until then to work a miracle.