He never cared for me when we were married, & divorce made him nastier.
It took another two years for me to say out loud to myself 'I want a divorce' and to actually call a lawyer. I threatened divorce all the time, assuring him that one day he would have to be a parent that turns up.
I was always that healthy person who never got sick enough to stay in bed, which meant before we married, I had no way of knowing what he would be like when I was. By the time I fell sick enough to be in bed, I was pregnant. I expected he would bring me hot drinks, meds, and some food. Instead, I was totally abandoned, which left me stunned in disbelief. After giving birth I was struggling with the pain and emotions of being in labour for 15hrs and then a C-Section. He abandoned us within 24hrs! Again, I was stunned. A year passed, and through the ups, but mainly downs, things started to improve with therapy. The therapist was annoying and made me out to be the villain in our marriage, somehow she couldn't see I was only asking for common decency. We got pregnant again on one of those rare nights that we went out together and had fun, alcohol and a few minutes under the covers before he rolled over to snore.
I recall it vividly. It was the moment I knew I was done.
It took another two years for me to say out loud to myself 'I want a divorce' and to actually call a lawyer. I threatened divorce all the time, assuring him that one day he would have to be a parent that turns up. He would laugh and point out that I was super mum and would always take care of everything. It sounds like a compliment, but I felt like I had no choice and I wish I had done less so that everyone's expectations of me had been significantly lower.
In the eyes of everyone, I could not fail.
Fast forward a few years after our divorce and I was a remnant of burnt toast, you know when you try and spread butter on it and it crumbles? People talk about burnout, but I was way past that, wishing at night when I closed my eyes that I wouldn't wake up again. The sleepless nights had merged into one as time and time again the kids woke up sick, crying, or terrified by nightmares. The back and forth was too much and he refused to change his schedule to help them. He said I was to blame, I was the problem. I should have moved to a small apartment so we could all sleep in one room, it might have made us all feel safer, but the experts advised me to stay put for the sake of the children.
Nobody mentioned 'for the sake of' the mother.
I didn't know how much of a shell of a person I had become until I ended up in A&E on a Sunday afternoon. Obviously, he refused to come and take them, it wasn't his weekend. We all sat together, me on a drip, monitors beeping and the kids looking petrified. Too young to go to the toilet alone in a public hospital. They called him, but he didn't pick up. He may or may not have thought he was punishing me, but he was punishing the kids and in return damaging my relationship with them. They witnessed me struggling daily, too young to realise he was the reason I couldn't protect them. I was in and out of hospital for a few months with chest pains, and I would laugh every time a nurse would tell me to take it easy, to get some rest.
I wished the doctors would stop asking me where their father is? What was I supposed to say in front of them?
He never cared when the kids were sick, and refused to visit them when they missed him, again, it wasn't his day. This went on for years and years. The kids finally grew up and got sick less and I started to work full-time. We somehow got through all the lockdowns of Covid, even though he didn't take them once as he swiftly moved abroad. Still, he got to be the fun parent with them online, whilst I managed everything.
Just because you can, doesn't mean you should.
He used to turn up smiling, washed, shaved, and groomed- the polar opposite of my broken nails and stained clothing from cooking and cleaning. The kids would run to him, hugs and laughter, relief that he hadn't let them down. They knew it was a weekend of sugar, inappropriate TV shows, and crazy late nights jumping on the bed. And age-inappropriate computer games like GTA played for hours on end in the morning so he could sleep in. He would always drop them off wired out, hyperactive, like insane little minions on speed and I would feel helpless, angry, disappointed and relieved they were back in the safety of my arms. They would whisper all the things Daddy told them not to tell me, and I would fight back my anger, agitation, and desire to call him and scream 'what the fuck were you thinking?' He wasn't thinking about them, he probably wasn't even thinking about pissing me off, he was just being true to himself.
The children remember all the fun they had with him, the places he took them, the swimming at night, the movies they watched together. We didn't get to have those types of memories, as I got the tedious side of parenting, the important stuff. I had the leadership role of making uncomfortable, important decisions about their health, and their education, whilst navigating their hormones and emotional needs.
You see me from afar and you think I am one of those mothers that has my life together, you might even be a little envious of me. Don't be.
There was a time when I slipped in the rain and caught my daughter, broke my arm, and bruised my knee so badly that I couldn't walk. I cried and cried and screamed. I used the pain of the accident to let it all out, asking myself- What now? Does this ever end? I felt like I was drowning in my own bad luck, all because of some decision I made to let this man be my one. Nobody ever told him off or reminded him that I am the mother of his kids. Maybe nobody noticed?
You need to help, THEY ARE YOUR KIDS TOO!!! ( I used to plead )
I haven't got family to help me, and yes I have friends, but post-divorce your social circle changes and well, I didn't realise how much help I needed or how to ask. What I do know is he behaved within the exact confines of the law and the child support was always paid on time. He arrived on schedule give or take a few hours with the excuse that he had to work, and I was just the stay-at-home mum with a 'small career'.
I am jealous of him.
It's as though everyone accepts him as he is, and they all have such low expectations. They ask little from him and when he messes up they laugh and say that's just dad. In case of emergency, call Mum. Dad will get the messages and the laughter about how I got annoyed with the wait time at A&E, or the doctor's appointment details being unclear. Everyone expects me to be capable and available all the time. I tell them to call their dad, and they laugh and say 'Yeah Mum, as if he will know what to do.'
I didn't marry a moron, I created one.
One day they came home from school reciting Larkin's This Be The Verse, 'They fuck you up, your mum and dad.' It gave them the voice to assure me that I had and that everything was/is my fault. I bite my tongue because I don't want to share the nitty-gritty details of how selfish their dad was, how damaged my health was beyond repair and how much I covered for him. Their experience was not mine, and I can't rewind time and have a do-over. I know it wasn't easy for them, and when they are older or become parents the truth will come to light. It always does. They may stop and think,
How did she do all that alone? Where was Dad?
What I wish someone had told me to about co-parenting:
When setting up a co-parenting plan; add a clause for the what ifs.
- What if I get sick and need you to collect the kids or take them to school? Or just take them?
- What if I have a job interview and need help collecting and can't get childcare?
- What if I have a business trip that isn't on your days?
- What if I have to go to hospital and won't be able to drive for a few days?
- What if the kids are sick and they want to see you?
- What will happen when the kids become teenagers and don't want to stay overnight during exam week?
- What will happen if we go into a lockdown? A war? Who knows these days?
Disaster plan your schedules and fill it with the most obscure absurd scenarios because life and children throw curveballs at you and you can't duck.
And as the nurses kept reminding me, take it easy and get some rest.
If you want to share your story or you are a professional who wants to share some insights, please email me at contact@angryexwife.com
