Out of respect for the man, and the marriage we once had, I've been cryptic. I also still have in me that little girl who was raised to not say anything unless I had something nice to say.
I've mostly outgrown that little girl. Mostly.
I am still married to the man who calls me Chica. For most of this year I have been a single mother. For all intents and purposes, I have been a single mother for the past several years. The man I married, who had been a great dad and a great husband, was taken down by mental illness and alcohol dependance.
B was pretty highly functioning until a series of events triggered a major depressive episode for which he refused treatment. It caused an extraordinarily unhealthy and unsafe living situation for myself and our kids, and I took what I previously would have thought unimaginable steps to secure our safety. I spent the first 4 months of this year in disbelief, saying to myself this is not my life. And I walked away from the man who had been my rock for 10 years.
B's been in treatment and recovery since March. And I am once again seeing the man I fell in love with and married. The man who is brilliant and talented and funny and loves me to pieces. The man who my daddy adored. The man who my sister Adrienne said was responsible for the way our remarkable children got through all of this because of the remarkable father he once had been.
B has not lived with us since February. He lives just a few blocks away, so we see him on weekends and sometimes briefly during the week. A lot of healing has taken place. But it hasn't been particularly easy.
So there it is. Maybe by the grace of god and the universe I won't have to be a single mom much longer...