The Divorce is OVER.

If he pays what he owes, and if he does so by February, I never have to mention the Shitbag again. If not, we go to court. Where, hypothetically, he gets raked over the proverbial coals for not doing what he agreed to do, in writing, during mediation.

So there’s that.

When I went to Oakland in May, fresh from the breakup, my friends made me a mostly xxx-rated bingo card to complete in my newfound freedom. Some of the lesser mom-scandalizing squares included: ‘Crepes and martinis’, ‘naked hot spring’, and of course two ‘free bitch’ squares. I’ve done a few of the challenges/suggestions, but mostly I’ve been pretty vanilla…just getting my financials in order, working hard at establishing myself at work, buying things to make the apartment a cozy home, building credit and indulging myself in house hunting while I pay off my credit card debts. Stuff that seems pretty damn boring in the moment, but feels like micro-victories to me.

It’s curious to realize how brainwashed I was. I thought I needed to do what he wanted, when he wanted, and if I forgot myself for one moment in wishing my own wishes, I was being selfish and bad. I waited 10 damn years to get ready for a baby because I was ‘too broke’, ‘too crazy’, too much any bloody excuse you can consider. While I put myself (with help from my parents, he didn’t pay a literal dime) through my master’s program, he stagnated and rotted on the vine, and he blamed me for that too. There were ‘no cool people in Utah’, there was ‘nothing to do here’ and ‘nowhere to go’, and I allowed him to spout off his bullshit for years. Sure, arguing would have led to emotional abuse and neglect. I’m learning (my sister helps a lot with this) to forgive myself for letting him be as awful as he was to myself and my home. I pity his ‘friends’ here, who he bashed on the regular, especially those who chose for their sad reasons to side with him despite all evidence of the asshole he was.

I’m sorry I was jealous and vindictive of other women, too. I learned from the Shitbag that women in power, and powerful women in general, were something to avoid and dislike. He didn’t like that female comedian’s voice. Fuck her. He didn’t think voting for women made ‘sense’, it was throwing your vote away, fuck them. Women weren’t capable. women weren’t funny. women were bitches and sluts. They were stupid. their opinions truly did not matter at all.

I’m sad for for the woman (women?) he slept with while were married, and while he continued to sleep with me. I recall going to Planned Parenthood after I found out, to get checked across the board. I was so angry and so scared and alone, and waiting the 72 hours it takes to post results was horrendous. But I had family and friends supporting me, and I had honest, good people on my side, and I wish the very best for anyone who’s best shot at company is that shitbag in their corner. He’s not a good team to be on. I should have known better; I learned that the hard way. It’s a shame other women will have to learn that way too. It sucks being used.

Still, my friendships are repairing themselves, and people who couldn’t stand being around HIM still love ME.

Hell, some of the people I hang out with now never even met the shitbag, and they love me. Maybe I never needed him to make friends for me. go fucking figure.

I am also sad about K’s kids. K was shitbag’s best friend, mentioned previously and quite angrily on this blog, and his daughters are delightful humans. I may not be able to see them again for a long while, although I’d be willing to suffer his presence, briefly, to see those girls again. They’re going to be 18 in a few years and then I wouldn’t even need his go-ahead to do so if they visit. They live in California most of the time with their mom, so they’re only here some holidays and school vacations. But they have my number. We used to spend every Christmas together for years, and I miss them very much.

Sigh.

I also miss my dog, crappy little monster though she was, but I don’t really feel up to writing about that just yet. I’ve never given up a pet before. I don’t think I can do it ever again. It hurts. It’s the only reason I keep the little family tree painting I made, with Corms, Dante, Shitbag, me and little Moro.

Fuck. I can’t talk about this yet.

SO ANYWAY. My year is coming to a close, and all I got out of it was a career, degree, friends and family that love me to pieces, an adorable apartment, my self confidence and freedom and happiness.

Cheers!