I have always said that I am marrying type, but I am beginning to think that I am not that type that stays married - despite her idealised wishes.
You probably see where this is going.
My camel broke its back and I have asked Husband to pack his bags. Something I though I'd never do, something I wasn't actively considering before his latest tirade, but never say never should obviously be my motto.
In certain sense this is not a surprising move, as, even no one knows, I did ponder about leaving just before I got pregnant with Boy as I was feeling that my needs weren't listened to and I was increasingly unhappy with my life. Then I found out I was expecting and all the happy pregnancy hormones started to do their magic.
I was alone since about 21st week of pregnancy, first for a reason, then for a reason unbeknownst to me. Even I asked he didn't tell it.
When Boy was about 2 months old I had a dream where he left for some insanely childish reason. I am known to have premonitions about my relationships, they foresee the fail. Still, I decided it was only a dream and that's it (and I couldn't have told Mr. W. (let him carry that name from now on) about it as he had said I was calling bad spirits and I shouldn't talk about things like that).
Then I tell you that I haven't seen him since mid-pregnancy. He hasn't met his son, Boy hasn't met his father. They were deemed to meet, but this evil woman prevented it.
Because of Mr. W.'s latest tirade.
He has this annoying habit of controlling me. It was sweet and all when we met and so on, but it had a nasty side effect: threats of leaving me right there and then when I missed his call(s). Sometimes I was accused of cheating, as he knew that part of my history.
And since Boy was born I have missed many calls because I have been with Boy (playing/ feeding/ changing/ all those things you do with babies) and my cell phone hasn't. Or we have been out and I haven't heard. Or we have been sleeping and my phone has been on silent - to let Boy to sleep. And even I explained and have told him that he was not my first priority anymore as there is a small baby who needs me more than he does. Still I was told that I have changed.
No shit Sherlock! I became a mother in March in case you missed that.
And for a long, long time I have felt there is no room for me when he was here. That I had to be somewhere playing as small and quiet as possible. And if I happened to glance his laptop's screen it was something dreadful.
I felt that it wasn't my home even it was and is. But if I tried to talk with him about it or anything else considering us or my wishes or feelings it ended up me feeling even worse and we never talked.
Not feeling comfortable at my own home also meant no stitching as I need a comfortable place for it.
There are thousand things... like always noticing and being nasty about it if I had gained a little weight, but never encouraging when I lost weight. Or telling that I was just basically lazy and hypocondriac when I tried to explain that my lack of doing stuff was all about my thyroid.
Things were piling up in my little head. Understandably. But love makes us blind.
Well, his last tirade was about me not picking up a phone or returning his call. "That call came from an anonymous number, how did you expect I know it was you?" And he knows that I never answer to anonymous numbers if I am not expecting a call from one. Because usually they are telesalesmen.
He got frantic and while at it denied his own son, in my eyes, and me, threatened with leaving for good and made me understand that it can't go on. Not anymore. Not with Boy around. That it had to stop.
I thought about it for two days and went through his words over and over again to find what I missed, that I was wrong. Never found it. And then I asked him to pack.
Understandably in his opinion I had misunderstood him grossly and was lying (ah, again. I am SUCH a liar, you know. If you listen to him.... and then he claims he never said so), but still he didn't make a single move to try to convince me otherwise, even I gave the opportunity to him on a silver platter... and I don't know a single person who hadn't even tried to change my mind had they been in that situation. Which does, in my sick mind at least, that he wasn't much opposed to leaving, he just wanted that I do the dirty job.
It is slowly sinking in that there is a big, dark forest of custody arguments and bureaucracy ahead of me, but at least I can ensure Boy balanced environment.
It's funny really... some time ago I found myself thinking that if I wasn't married and didn't want kids I would be completely happy without a relationship screwing up my life.
The problem lies in wanting kids. I still want more of them... but that's not this year's thing, no the following one's (Luckily I still have time). Now I'll concentrate on practical things and try to find Boy and me a bigger apartment and start life all over again.
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