I did something unimaginable this weekend. I texted my ex a picture of the contents of my refrigerator, and wrote an amicable message. It contained the acronym “LOL”.
It seems that the Food Bank received a truckload of yoghurt this week. I’m not complaining but that is a heck of a lot of yoghurt. Oh and I won’t be needing any pasta for a while either. I think we’re good there.
Maybe Ex thinks I’ve finally and completely lost my marbles. Or maybe he’s glad I’m coming back to myself (for his own well being and stress levels, perhaps.). Maybe he’s baffled. I can’t know. He doesn’t respond to anything that doesn’t require an answer. It’s almost like when we were together, but without the scent of deadly threat wafting through the thigh-deep mire I’m wading through these days.
I remember when I first told him I was using the Food Bank to feed the kids. We were in a collaborative divorce meeting – one of the last before we needed to be in separate rooms, with busy little lawyers scuttling back and forth between us, trying to “land the plane” as some of them (one of whom has been fired by me) like to say. I was NOT feeling amicable. I wanted the WORLD to know about it. And I wanted the world to know that it was all his fault. And he, inexplicably, did not seem phased. I wanted to throw an entire plate of nosh at him and strategically spill his coffee. Food fight in the boardroom!
So now I’m “throwing” yogurt at him. My latest tactic – passive aggression! Ah. Maybe that’s what he thinks. Who can know?
Actually, it’s kind of an olive branch. Sort of. I guess.
I’m going to say this quietly. Don’t tell anyone.
It’s possible that, on occasion, perhaps – I’m not sure, but it’s possible – I could potentially have slightly, even willfully, but also with some cause that seemed justifiable at the time, and sometimes still does,
caused some, some, of the mayhem in my divorce process; possibly even my marriage.
Well, that’s enough of THAT.
I’ll have the Better Plan, please. And since no one has written one, I guess we’ll have to go back to the table and figure one out. Yes. I just said that.
Last week, I hired a new lawyer. A collaborative family lawyer. Just what he wanted me to do.
Bring it. Let’s do this.
And moments after I posted this, Ex emails me to say he doesn’t want to do collaborative divorce anymore.
And once again, it’s all about his power. I guess I haven’t learned much yet.