Mad Woman
“No one likes a mad woman. You made her like that.” -Taylor Swift
It is true that anger eats a person up inside. I have spent years of my life being angry with the Captain for what he did to me and to our girls. There were days when I would allow myself to fester in it, let it eat me alive, lose sleep and be miserable. It was horrible, an existence that I wouldn’t wish for anyone, simply because it gets in the way of happiness.
I deserve to be happy.
Our custody and child support case was resolved at the beginning of April. I had spent a year worrying and wondering what would happen. All of the possibilities lived rent free in my mind, usually jumping to worst case scenario as is my nature. The resolution was a good one. I walked out of the courtroom feeling satisfied. I have primary legal and physical custody. He is allowed to voice his opinion on important matters, but ultimately any decision making is mine. The Captain has a generous amount of visitation sprinkled throughout the year. We agreed on a $262/month reduction in child support, and he requested to be responsible for all travel expenses for visitation. He also has to pay half of their educational and uninsured medical / dental expenses (which will come in handy when they each get braces in a few years). I easily got the better end result in all of this.
One day last week, I was driving to work, completely in my feelings. I was overcome with stress and anxiety about work and life and all of the things that seem to pop up when one finds herself having a moment of misery. I was tired, not sleeping well for whatever reason. Life just seemed hard. I have not been the most religious of girls for a long time, but I found myself praying to be relieved of my anger toward the Captain. I just needed to let it all go, and I could not find a way to do it on my own. It’s hard to reckon with the fact that he will never have a moment of accountability for his past actions. I can only hope that the guilt keeps him awake at night. The girls have asked me why they never had a dad before they were five, and I told them that they would need to ask the Captain about it. I refuse to make excuses for him. Knowing that they have felt pain because of his lack of involvement infuriates me. And so I prayed for it all to go away. I felt ridiculous, flying down I-40 on my way to work, speaking out loud to a God to whom I have not been particularly close to in a long while. When I was done, I put it out of my mind, cranked up my music and went about my business. And a funny thing happened….a few days later, I realized that I was not angry anymore. It had all simply evaporated. What was left was complete indifference. Not forgiveness or forgetting, mind you, but the feeling that it was no longer my burden to carry. It was incredibly freeing.
A week or so after our court case had concluded, the Captain emailed the school to tell them that he had been awarded joint legal custody and that he would like access to school communications. The receptionist at the school immediately reached out to me, as I had already notified the school about the upcoming custody case. I volunteer regularly at the school, and I am very close to the girls’ teachers. I have spoken to them at length about the situation with the Captain. I ensured that the school had a copy of our custody agreement demonstrating that he does not have joint legal custody, preventing him from making any changes in regards to the school. It also lists his strict visitation schedule, ensuring that he will never have the ability to just show up at their school one day to pick them up for whatever reason. Notes were added to their PowerSchool account to make sure that teachers are aware of the limitations. His loss is my win.
“Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy. And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry.”
A few weeks ago, I decided to delete my blog. I never seem to have time to write the way I want to. I always think of things that I want to talk about, but by the time I get home and get everyone settled for the night, I usually find myself too tired to make an attempt. My drafts folder is full of half written stories and feelings that will never see the light of day. I cancelled my hosting service and deleted my account, almost feeling relieved. I received a notification that it could take up to 30 days for the blog to actually disappear from the webosphere, and then I proceeded to check it every day to see if it was still there. I felt a little bit of glee every time I would find it to be in existence, proof that something I had worked so hard on in the beginning was still around. Part of me regretted it the minute it finally disappeared.
Last night, the Captain and I were arguing back and forth via text about an upcoming visitation. I didn’t understand the vague rationalization for his travel dates; he kept saying that he couldn’t take time off from work, to which I asked why he couldn’t travel on either a Saturday or Sunday to avoid that. I even offered him a full week of visitation to make up for the time he would have to travel here, as he was originally only supposed to have them from Friday morning until Monday morning. Apparently, he had plans to take the girls to see Jenelle at a volunteer event over the weekend, so he was going to have to take Monday off to bring them home. But when I was unwilling to go to the airport to pick the girls up from him, he decided to simply come here and only have them Friday night through Sunday afternoon. For someone who is determined to spend as much time with the girls as possible, this makes no sense to me. At the end of all of the back and forth, Jenelle interjected herself into the situation and began to message me first as him from his phone, then separately from her own (weird, right?). She mentioned that the Captain’s attorney had found my blog and Jenelle was not happy when she read it. This is completely understandable considering that none of my writing paints the love of her life in the best light.
The immaturity is what is grating underneath my skin more than anything. I understand the complexity of wanting to protect your husband. How is it possible, though, to say in one breath that you want to make the best of our situation for the girls when you just also just admitted that you are texting me from his phone number, pretending to be him? What in the middle school audacity is this?
After conversing with her for a few, I decided to reactivate my blog. And you know what? It feels so good to write.
“And women like hunting witches, too. Doing your dirtiest work for you. It’s obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together.”
In the end, I got everything that I wanted. I have my girls, and she is stuck with him.
Who is the angry woman now?
