Lion and Magic Boy

Up until about an hour ago, I was managing to keep a sense of humor about everything. But then just one more thing struck, the frustration with Eric’s nightly concerted struggle against changing from clothes into jammies, and the black shade then was securely drawn tight against all marauders.

All day I managed to sashay through every situation, averting disaster and maintaining everyone’s sanity and goodwill. Nathaniel have a sudden high fever last night? Fine, send him to bed, he can stay home with me today and play Solitaire. Serena come home from school jealous because Nathaniel had so much “fun” today? Fine, give her a big hug and divert her attention with an apple. Cat properly ass-corked yet still lacking in tests and medication for future corking purposes? Fine, bundle everyone into the car and motor over the the vet, Eric furiously grinding his teeth which will someday be completely ground-down little nubbins leaving us able to say, “See? You should have stopped when we told you to!”, large “sample” in place and well-hidden in a paper bag so none of the children know there is actual cat poop IN THE CAR. Fine.

My mom says I am a “strong woman”, and maybe this is true, but inwardly I roll my eyes a little and shrug, knowing that there are plenty of women and men doing as much and more. Every day. Under much worse circumstances. I know I’m nothing special that way, but I do know that it’s good when things kind of flow and no one gets hurt. Those are what we call “good days”, you know? And if something that I do or don’t do helps with that, well, so much the better.

I have spent the past couple of days anxiously counting my pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters, hoping I had enough of them to meet my upcoming monthly rental obligation. Seeing that I did, or at least was not all that short and had the promise of some further income coming in, I should have felt relieved. I think I did feel relieved, actually, and proud, too, that I had somehow managed, after more than 11 years without a paying “job”, I had earned by my own labor enough to keep a roof over our heads for another month. Still, I was happy that most bills were paid for the time being, and there was a full tank of gas in the car and we had plenty of groceries.

Then this afternoon I received the surprising news that this month’s child support payment had finally hit my bank, several days overdue, and a surprise because neither of my banks nor the state support site knew anything about it the 20 times or so I checked them this morning.

I should have felt relief at this news. After all, I was going to be able to pay my rent! AND buy food this month!

I should be happy about this, right?

So why is it I feel so defeated?

Could it be because the money is coming from the coffers of The Ex, who by the way unloaded his TWO moving trucks across the street from me this evening while effectively blocking ALL his neighbors plus anyone else who wanted to collect their mail, from leaving the parking lot?

Could it be that I still have been unable to escape the bonds of “belonging” to someone, that this support, as much as it is clearly needed, represents my inability to provide for myself and my children?

Tomorrow is the closing on the house we own together, the one I loathed in the six years I lived there, with its mold and ghosts and leaks and vermin, and that I was so very happy to leave a year and a half ago. This closing means that my divorce will (finally) progress after so long in the making, with so much stress along the way. When it’s final, I’ll have some substantial amount of money as a parting gift.

That should make me happy, shouldn’t it?

So why do I feel that it’s just a slap in the face? Can the money make up for the past 12 years?

[tags] depression, divorce, money, what do I do now [/tags]