Since she has an older sister, I thought that seniority deemed it necessary for me to talk with big sis, too. So, I found a time when child #3 was home to stay with Todd, and my first-born and I went out for a walk. I guess you could say she was understanding... to a point. She could understand that I was unhappy. That much had been obvious. When it came to the extent of my contemplated course of action, however, that's where we split ways. Now, I didn't expect her to say, "Cool! You and Dad are splitting up! Love it!!!" But I guess #2 child's reaction led me to believe that since it was obvious how Todd treated me, all of the kids would more or less understand the damage it was doing to me.
I ended up telling her more than her younger sister. Maybe because she was older, and maybe because she just didn't seem to be getting it. She was making comparisons to a coworker whose son is going through a divorce, and how he just thanked his mother for staying together with his dad while they were growing up, even though he knew they had their problems. I know all couples "have their problems," but not all wives are left on their own to protect their children from an accused child-molester grandfather because their husband is unwilling to consider that there could be a danger to his children. Not all wives see their husbands stand idly by while their in-laws publicly mock and belittle her....
Maybe I am overly sensitive. Maybe that's why I have a problem with how Todd treats me. Maybe... Before long, I was questioning myself. Maybe I should be able to "tough it out," as she was suggesting, until my youngest son graduated high school.
My daughter told me how she had spoken to Todd on the phone right after he and I had a fight once and he had cried. I was the big bad wolf. I almost felt badly for him, but then I remembered the pattern. Why, I wondered, did he never cry when we fought? Why did he instead demean me with sarcasm until I cried? Could it be pride? Or could the crying to my daughter be manipulation to get her on his "side."
She told me how she had carried anger toward me for not going out and getting a job to alleviate some of the pressure on her father. I don't have a job now because monitoring Todd and driving him to his appointments is my full-time job. I should be finishing a writing assignment, but it has pretty much fallen by the wayside as I've played the caretaker and battled depression. Since I work out of the home with my writing and costuming, I guess it doesn't look like I have a "job" -- at least not the time-clock-punching type her boyfriend's mom has. I allowed myself to feel guilty. Perhaps I should be doing more... then, later on in the evening, when I was sorting through clutter in my sewing room, I continually came across reminders of all the jobs I have had.
Along with writing for hire, I have also taught art, speech, and writing, and knocked out costuming contracts so huge that--with one of them--when I resigned they had to hire TWO people to replace me AND those two did not last because of the stress; they both ended up quitting! I sorted through some receipts and found it obvious that my girls never would have been able to have continued all the years they did in their dance classes if I had not been working, and we wouldn't have been able to pay private school tuitions. On top of that, I always made time to sew them costumes and custom formal dresses for prom, and countless other things that would have cost a fortune if we would have had to go out and buy them. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that although not in a traditional career, I have contributed a lot over the years to the family budget.
Where did she get the idea that I did not work? Could it be from Todd? His reality can become pretty contorted, and I have seen ways in the past that I have fallen into his way of thinking. He complains frequently about how hard he works, and yet, I can only think of maybe three or four years in the entire time we have been together that he has worked what has amounted to a single full-time job. His parents have subsidized his lack of get-up-and-go, and he has even claimed their gifts as income (I'm not sure if that was due to disorganized business records or an attempt to make his income look greater than it was.)
As the evening wore on, I became more and more depressed about my eldest daughter's attitude toward me. Had Todd poisoned her against me? Or was it her boyfriend (whose mother had one of those more "traditional careers")?
My daughter confessed this anger as if it were past-tense and she had pretty much worked through it, also saying that knowing more about what I had been through with the grandparents and such over the years "explained a lot."
But still, I have been stewing all night. I feel like I've been thrown off course. I don't want to hurt my kids, so I find myself contemplating sacrificing myself--toughing it out even if it means wishing I were dead.
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