I Now Owe The IRS $2,500 Because Ex Fucked Up His W-2

(What I say to myself when I start to worry about other people's stuff too much -
Alternative title to this pic is 'Snowy Jones' Exorcism Wasn't Going Smoothly')

 
The title says it all.

Outside the nut shell:

Ex and I have written in the divorce settlement that we would file joint taxes last year. We verbally agreed that I would take care of the taxes and when I needed his W-2 and other papers, he ignored me, and ignored me, and ignored me, so I went ahead and filed as head of household because I was pissed (and more than a little stressed, anxiety ridden, and confused about what the hell was actually in our divorce settlement...sue me) and received about $300 back. I claimed the entirety of the house credit because I was living there and paying the mortgage.

Well, he wasn't too pleased about that. Especially when he discovered that he owed $3,000. He spend the next year, off and on, trying to talk me into amending my taxes to jointly file the tax return and I ignored him until he threatened me Monday night.

This pissed me off for a number of reasons:

1 - I wanted to get it done and to the IRS before the deadline and he ignored me.

2- He sent me multiple emails in a 48 hour period about it with emotional threats and claiming he's been DOING THE RIGHT THING for the last 15 months, including moving out of the house so I could live in HIS HOUSE with cheaper rent (mortgage) than he is now paying.

3 - The night he sent the email that broke the camel's back, I was three drinks into a comfy little evening I had planned for myself to make some soup and watch Netflix alone. Precious alone time to recharge my batteries.

I lost my shit.

Whilst three sheets to the wind (don't judge - I am an adult and was alone that evening - and not depressed - Woo!) I prepared a fiery, cuss word filled email on my phone that I was busily editing (even whilst loopy I am a stickler to say precisely what I want to say in exactly the correct way to express myself accurately) when it disappeared.

...

CRAP!!!

Did I send it unfinished? No. Did it disappear off the face of the CLOUD? Yes.

FUCKERY!!

I sighed heavily, very frustrated, and started to write another response, this time wisely choosing my less tipsy response in a kinder way, realizing that sending those kinds of emails to Ex has never, ever benefited me or anyone else. I edited carefully and sent it calmly.

Never heard back.

Holy crap. Did he hear me and I stopped him in his tracks? Did he not see it yet? Either way, I went to bed anxiety ridden awaiting the fateful *scary breath sounds* that would alert me that he had responded.

Nothing at all.

The next day at work, clearheaded, I contacted my accountant and set into motion the process of amending my taxes. She did it, BAM, in less than 24 hours. Done, and awaiting his signature. This was big considering I've spent the last 20 years waiting for him to do our taxes and him filing extensions. (Which he also did again last year.)

You may know about how willing he is to sign things by some of my past posts, so I am trying to breathe deeply and be patient. Remember, his signing these papers makes him liable for only half of what he owes filing by himself so it's in his best interest. I am hoping to pick up the paperwork when I go by today to pick up Son for some mother-son bonding time tonight.

Below I have copied and pasted the emails. Guess what? The email didn't disappear. It went into the DRAFT folder I can't access through my phone.

Thank the tiny baby jesus that I didn't send it.

Just goes to show you what a bad combination booze, anger, and nasty emails from Ex are for me. And probably everyone.

Incidentally, he apologized for the nasty emails. I think it was a combination of my reminding him about what THE RIGHT THING actually is, and the fact that he thought I received $3,000 FROM the IRS last year that he OWED because I didn't file jointly with him. Welp. That's what you get when you don't ask.

ASS.

Anyhoo, the emails:

The One I Sent:

"Brace yourself. I'm about to say some things that will make you upset.

Do not threaten me with court. Never threaten me again. Never, ever again talk to me about your version of the right thing. I know things about you that would horrify everyone who thinks you're an upstanding man and citizen. The right thing my ass. I know a lot of things about you that other people don't. So think back to all those things I know about you and reconsider the way you speak to me from now on. No one ever made me feel as small and ashamed of myself and belittled as I did in what you talked me into doing for you in the twenty years you should have been treating me like a precious, loved woman deserving of respect.

Now. I'll discuss taxes with you when I'm good and fucking ready to do it and not because you want to fill your wallet with money I don't have and could spend on your children.

You have no hold over me anymore, so if you want something from me you will ask nicely without trying to manipulate my emotions and praising your Perfect Ex Husband act.

If you truly want to get along with me and show the kids how you should treat their mother, treat me the same way when they're not listening. You can't be my friend if you smile in my face when we see each other when other people are looking then make threats and try to manipulate my emotions when they're not.

Don't talk to me about what's right."

The Email I Didn't Send:

"I'm tired of your Perfect Ex Husband bullying and posturing. I'm tired of you pretending to want to be friends and that everything is ok then sending me passive aggressive bullying emails so that you can continue to have some semblance of control over me and to squeeze every last drop of blood out of every penny you can get your hands on. You make more than me. You claim to be doing the right thing and that you're doing it for the kids, but really you're trying to scare me into giving you money I don't have, money that I could use to spend on your children, trying to get me to comply by threatening me with taking me to court. I've offered to compensate you for the money that we verbally agreed on. I'm no longer interested in your self aggrandizing claims to be doing the right thing. Who is this right thing for? Who does it benefit? You. Just like it always has. Well I hope that you and your money will be very happy together. You're forgetting that I also own the house. The paltry money you pay me is barely grocery money for your children's food when they're here. I work for a non profit with no hope of a raise or moving up. Never again mention to me that you're doing the right thing. Because the right thing would have been to refrain from coercing your wife into sex acts she didn't want to do with drunk men. That is sexual abuse. The right thing would have been to let your wife show you love and sexual attention without requiring she act and talk like a whore. The right thing would have been going to bed with her at night instead of staying up all night looking at porn on the computer, making me feel unwanted and unloved. The right thing would have been showing your children how a woman should be treated instead of treating her like a second class citizen who didn't have a mind of her own or any personal freedom. The right thing would have been to refrain from spitting food onto your plate with disgust in front of your children after your wife worked eight hours then came home and cooked for you. That is emotional abuse. The right thing would have been to not criticize your wife for her weight, taste in clothes, her friends, how she folded laundry, how she loaded the dishwasher, the jokes she thought were funny, and what she wanted to eat just to list a few of the things that made me feel so very small and insignificant that I now have anxiety attacks when you send me a text or an email. The right thing would have been to ask me if I was ok instead of accusing me of acting when I was doubled over on the bed with excruciating pain from a gallbladder attack. The right thing would not have been so fucking drunk that you knocked your goddamned front tooth out falling on a chair, then when I needed to have a tooth I had to get a fucking bridge because it was too expensive for my mouth. I hope you're enjoying your expensive implant. The right thing would have been to treat me with tenderness and kindness instead of constantly trying to control and manipulate every micromanaged aspect of our life into what you thought it should be. The right way. The only way. The right thing would have been to show your son how to be a man without verbally abusing me for twenty years. So don't you dare, ever fucking talk to me about what the right thing is. Ever. Again. You'll get your godforsaken fucking money, and you'll also get what you deserve for every little thing you put out into the universe. And I'll get out from under this fucking albatross of a house you claim to have so generously allowed me to stay in when it's a fucking ball and chain prison you stick me with that connects me to you. Don't you ever threaten me again. Think about what your family would say if they knew all the things about you that I do. I only hope that you treat our daughter better than you treated me so she has the self respect to find someone who treats her better than you did me. Leave me the fuck alone to live my life in peace with people that know something about respect, kindness and love."

(remember I was tiddly)

As I said before, thank the tiny baby jesus vishnu and everyone else who might be listening to my karma that

I didn't send this email. And I never will. I would never say horrible things to his family. What an awful person I would be. (Just anonymously via the internet - hope it doesn't count against my karma.)

Note to self: Along with my monthly alert sent to myself via my iPeriod app that reminds me about when my period is coming that says, "Do not engage ex or listen to anxiety ridden thoughts.", I will add, "Do not drink and respond to any email or text or person until sober again."

Incidentally, as I mentioned in the title, Ex screwed up his W-2 and will owe again this year. But this year it's Not Mine.

Thanks for listening.

The report? OH! That.

Well, I was overdrawn on my account because the child support check came a week late due to, apparently, the “system being down”. (Ex's HR dept takes it from his paycheck, sends it to the child support people, who then send a check to me, that I’ve been unsuccessfully trying to get to auto deposit in my new account at for a month.) So, lesson learned: Do not budget depending on that check. CHECK. (fuckers)

I have a GIANT credit card debt that I have transferred all of the money to, with the lowest interest rate. Let’s just say I’m at the limit. I haven’t had credit card debt in 20 years. I attribute it to one income, panicky charges early in my separation process thinking I would pay them off as I go, and charges where I HAD to use it because I was learning to budget again and needed gas or food, along with impulse buys. Aside from the fuckery with my child support check this last week, I’ve been doing pretty well. I don’t get my nails done anymore, don’t get my hair colored anymore, I don’t fill my pantry and fridge with food, I just buy as I need it. I don’t shop at malls or department stores anymore, or expensive grocery stores. I don’t use the organic veggie delivery anymore. Basically, I use my money for Netflix, pets, gas, food, and an occasional kid need or treat. Or an occasional treat for myself and Partner when I can, much cheaper than the treats I used to buy myself. And the tail end of my lawyer bill. Oh, and yesterday I lowered my family plan phone payment, and I'm cutting the cable (I don't watch it) in November when the contract is up.

It was hard to get to the point where I know I don’t need very much to be happy. Money ain’t making me happy. I’m looking to my family and Partner and our kids for happy, as well as burning man, and starting to crochet and sew again. Reading novels again. Watching the movies I want to see when I’m alone. Stopping everything I’m doing and looking at and sitting next to Kids, Partner and his Kids, and my friends, giving them my full attention when they’re with me. Spending time with the dogs cuddling (except this week because I’m hormonal and that’s the only time they irritate me. This may be why I engaged Ex in a discussion when I know better. I’ve put a note on my calendar for next month about my period, with the note: DO NOT ENGAGE EX.)

I may outsmart myself.

Also, I scheduled a week of appointments at work this week when the PA was out of town. They told me about it in May, in an email. Seriously, please don’t depend on me to do anything when I’m having a midlife crisis. Last May…never mind. You all know.

The battery powered fan I ordered for our bm (for future reference: bm means Burning Man, not poop) tent was delivered yesterday, then promptly stolen from the front desk area at work (more fuckers - explainable since I work in the mental health industry) before it got to me.

Also, Ex is a nincompoop as I’ve been getting calls from the kids saying they don’t have lunch at school, or they’re going to be kicked out by Friday if they don’t get their shot records to the nurse. I asked Ex if the school knows Son has a learning disability and did they put him in special education for his core classes. His response? “I have no idea.” Stuff I’ve been scrambling to take care of because I left everything school related up to him to organized for the first time in the children’s lives. And this year they are both in brand new schools. It’s made me feel angry and resentful, and melancholy about not being there to help them on the big first day of school Monday. When I tried to, gently and kindly, talk to Ex about being sensitive to Son and take care of things like I would try to do with Kids (I didn’t say it that way. That would be just asking for trouble.) he got offended and told me I never had a father figure so don’t accuse him of being a bad father, and that if we wanted to be friends I needed to back off because he’s a good dad and I should know that. I reminded him that Son has a learning disability and a mental health diagnosis and that we need to take care in how we talk to him and guide him, just as the counselors have told us since Son was 6. Ex accused me of “putting labels” on Son and that he, Ex, doesn’t do that. 

Blah-de-blah-de-blah. Same 'ole shite.

Ex got a son with special needs instead of the son that he wanted, and I think he’s still in denial. The same argument we’ve been having for 15 years. I know better than to argue with him, it kills me that I can’t protect them from him and really, I may not need to. I just hope he’s a better father now than he was when we were married.

Ex has been peppering me with texts, day and night, all week, with everything from how I should run my house to the better benefit of Kids this school year to where I should drop Son off when I take him to school next week because it’s the best option. He’s driving me up the fucking wall.

But mixed in have been lovely moments like the bat walk tour I went on with Partner, his Daughter, and Son, Monday night, and heart-melting moments when they told me they see me as their second mom. Also, seeing a girlfriend briefly last night when I went over to load my bm stuff into another friend's truck, and Kids calling me randomly last night at 10:30pm to ask me what my middle name was (apparently there was some debate) and making me laugh.

So it hasn’t been a total loss, just a mix. And I handled it all well, mixed with expletives, and occasional grumpy behavior. I am still happy. (Plus the check came yesterday just in time for my needed tank of gas, and my new checking account mobile deposits it instantly, unlike the old one - that rhymes with Bells Dargo - who holds it for 2 days. Fuckers.)

Hey, guess what? I talked with my doctor, and she agreed that it’s ok for me to not refill my Prozac, and that my dose was so low I don’t need to titrate down. My last pill will be taken next Tuesday night…

I leave for bm a week from Sunday. I think vacation with friends and the love of my life is a good idea right after stopping an antidepressant, so that works out well.

Thanks for reading.

The Narcissistic Parent

Found this here:

"Narcissists make deplorably bad parents. They are too focused on themselves to find children anything but an annoyance or a way to increase admiration and power. Many narcissists become parents either by accident or for some ill-thought out self-serving purpose.

Narcissists have two faces -- the one they wear in public, and the one they wear at home. Only those close to the narcissist have any idea there is more than one face. And the narcissist's children know best of all, because children - those who have the least power - are the ones the narcissist allows him or herself to be the least guarded around. A frequent frustration of children of narcissists is that everyone else thinks their mother or father is the most wonderful person ever, while at home their children suffer in silence with their parent's tantrums, disinterest and put-downs -- this is clearly NOT the most wonderful person if you truly know them -- not even close.

Narcissistic parents view and treat their children only as extensions or reflections of themselves. They see their children the way an advertiser sees a sign by the side of the road - as something to put their name on and use to build themselves up, or as something someone else is responsible for that they can ignore if they aren't interested. Because narcissists' families are centered around the whims and wishes of a truly self-centered parent, they are highly dysfunctional and do not allow children to question the parent or express their needs. Most narcissists treat their children badly in a few key ways -- emotional abuse, excessive parental control and parental neglect are all typical of narcissistic parents.

Narcissists cannot see their actual children and do not accept their needs. The narcissistic father who looks at his son and sees not an active, athletic little boy who is brilliantly gifted in sports and outdoor activities who needs more playtime, but an inanimate lump of clay he will shape into a doctor to brag about is just one of many examples of narcissistic parenting. (The reverse is often true as well; whatever the parent values takes priority.) The narcissistic mother who criticizes and hides behind a veneer of martyrdom when her child needs her support is another common manifestation of a narcissistic parent. Narcissists typically treat their children as if they're not good enough, and yet when the child does do well, the parent will either ignore and deny the event or take all the credit for it. (A common exception to the general rule of being treated as inferior is the treatment of the family "golden child", whom the narcissistic parent will treat as exceptional, superior and entitled.)

It's not uncommon for narcissists to be somewhat more agreeable as parents when their children are younger and easier to control. Many children of narcissistic parents report that their parents weren't as emotionally abusive when the children were young preschoolers - or were pre-adolescents. Some narcissists pay plenty of attention to small children, who make excellent captive audiences that narcissists find fun to impress and manipulate, only to completely turn away from (or turn against) those same children in later years. However, some narcissists dislike all children on the whole and have no interest in them at any age. To these narcissists, all children are viewed as nothing but an annoyance. Narcissists don't like to be questioned and don't want to deal with children who can stand up for themselves. It's common for some narcissistic parents to become more abusive toward their children when the children reach the age of reason (about 7 years old) or when the children enter into puberty, which many of these parents find very psychologically threatening.

Adult children of narcissists typically describe their parents as mean, phony, self-absorbed, judgmental, dishonest, immature and manipulative.

Some narcissistic parents are controlling and engulf their children. Others simply ignore their children and wish they would go away. However, all narcissistic parents fail to treat their children as authentic individuals who have their own unique characteristics and needs. Narcissists treat their children as mere blank screens for projecting their own internal "movies" onto.

There are narcissistic parents who deny their children's existence by insisting their children be and do what THEY want, and there are those who deny their children's existence by simply ignoring their children altogether. (Many narcissistic parents do both alternately, depending on which circumstances serve them best.)"

When I let Ex know what Son's grades were (fucking fantastic for a young man who has a visual processing disorder, ADHD, depression, and oppositional defiant disorder) he peppered me with questions, and each time he shot another one at me I became more and more angry. Do you know how hard it was for Son to get all that work done? He got a low progress report, then he busted his behind (with me helping him schedule tutors and teachers) to get the unfinished work finished and the points made up to earn enough points to get a C, two B's, and FIVE A's!!! 

FIVE!

I am so proud I could bust.

All Ex said after the peppering was, 'In two weeks he went from D's, C's, and a B to these grades? I wish school had been that easy when I was a kid.'

ASS. HOLE. What he meant was, they are letting Son slide through and he doesn't work as hard or as well as he should. DOESN'T WORK HARD and SHOULD, being the key words.

My heart breaks that I can't protect son from his negativity and unfairness, and most of all his control.

Ex shows his true character again.

Astounding Father's Day Assholeyness

 

Ex texted me on Thursday and asked me to make sure the kids do something for him for Father's Day.

...

Are you kidding me? What. The. Hell. The unmitigated GALL was what was astounding to me.

I suppose that if you did this thinking that it makes you The BEST DAD AND EX HUSBAND EVER I can see how you would expect your ex wife to make sure your kids do something for you for Father's Day.

Asshole. Unbelievable. 

I am so mad thinking about it I don't even know what to type, so I'll make a list here of what I think a real father is (In some instances quoted from here. I love this woman's blog and she inspires much of my writing.), and a father deserving respect on Father's Day. 

I'm not a big practitioner of commericalized holidays anymore, because I think my kids shouldn't feel obligated to make a big, expensive production out of it. A hug and a kiss will do nicely, thank you. An 'I love you' and a relaxing day enjoying my kids and counting my blessings would have been the perfect day. So that's what I try to do.

What Makes A Man A Parent:

A man is not a father if he supports them financially but tears them down emotionally.

A man is not a father if he chooses to treat his children’s mother any other way than respectfully, honorably and valuably.  Lying, demeaning, threatening, degrading, terrorizing and ruining her self-esteem are examples of what NOT to do if you want to call yourself a parent. This is the secondary reason I am divorced. The main reason is that Ex was treating Son that way, and to a lesser extent, Daughter.

A man cannot call himself a father if he only puts the amount of effort into parenting that he feels he is willing to. Ex put so little effort into parenting when we were married that most of the time I felt like a single mother.  If you are actually doing it correctly, parenting is a hard, 24 hour a day, 7 day a week, thankless, sacrificial job.

A man cannot call himself father if he lies about their mother, either to his children or to anyone else (lord knows what he told his family and everyone he knows).  Doing so not only damages the children, it is an act of immaturity and vindictiveness.

My children are coming to see Partner as their stepfather, because he shows them more kindness and unconditional love than their biological father ever has. Partner plays with them, respects their feelings and preferences, talks to them as though they were smart individuals with valid ideas and opinions, and shows their mother more respect and unadulterated love than they saw their father ever give me. 

EVER.

I also see that Partner's children care for me. I love them very much and spending weekends with them when my kids are with Ex makes me very happy. What makes me even more happy is when we spend weekends altogether in a big group like we did when we went to the river a few weekends ago.

The distance between our houses (we go back and forth whenever possible) makes it difficult to do more together, but we plan to remedy that in the future. We're building a future together slowly but surely, as my kids are still getting used to our whole situation.

Ex is incapable of really being the kind of parent my children deserve. I'm letting it go. I've found others to help fill the void including friends, family, and Partner, who has supported us through the end of the worst time of our lives.

I couldn't mold my abuser into the parent my children deserve. I've finally accepted that I can never change Ex, and that I can never truly protect my children when they are with him. They are smart, sensitive and loving people. They will have their relationship with him however it turns out and I will always be there to love and support them in the ways that he does not, will not, and cannot.

I can't fix their loss, but I can encourage them and watch them bloom.

My Pandora's Box

I went in to see my doctor last month, and every time I go into her office there is a form there they ask me to fill out. The form wants to know if you feel you're being abused and whether you think you're in danger. I looked at that form and thought, and thought, and I decided what the hell.

It was my Pandora's Box of emotions.

I didn't realize until I started typing this post that this event was the catalyst that sent me into a tailspin that is the worst bout of depression I've ever had. 

It scared me.

A few years ago when I tried to divorce Ex the first time I was diagnosed with situational depression, which essentially means that if the situation changes, your depression goes away. 

Sometimes.

So while I sat in the doctor's office waiting for her to come in, I filled out the form. Had I suffered abuse? I marked yes. Did I have any physical injuries? No, I put that it was psychological abuse. Was I afraid of my abuser or did I feel I was in danger...no. Not really. Deep down I don't really think he'd put his hands on me. That would completely shatter the illusion of THE PERFECT EX HUSBAND AND FATHER show, and I might just need to be bailed out of jail. 

The doctor came in and asked me how I've been since my last appointment and I updated her on what she and I talked about last time. My eyes were bright and shiny with the tears I was trying like hell not to spill. She took one look at that and picked up the paper I'd filled out, read it, and started asking me questions...the same ones I'd answered on the forms. She was verbally verifying my answers. The minute she said the word ABUSE out loud, I lost it. I started crying and as she kindly offered me tissues she listened a little bit about what had been going on in my life. I told her Ex had moved out last October so I wasn't in the living situation anymore, but did tell her that his tentacles still reached me via the Kids and my damaged psyche. She told me I had adjustment disorder, and suggested (for the third time) that I take something to help me get through this tough time. She prescribed me fluoxetine (Prozac) and I finally accepted that I needed help.

The reality that I was an abuse survivor hit me smack between the eyes and I just fell apart. I made it to work, made it through my day, and made it home. I grabbed the dogs and swung by the pharmacy on the way to Partner's house for the weekend, where I promptly started to drink. Not to excess, mind you...just enough to numb myself. And just enough to cry. 

I cried at work and I cried in my favorite swinging chair outside and I cried while falling asleep. The floodgates were open.

I've never been a big drinker. My family loves to drink, particularly good wine, and one time my mother was pouring me a glass when my brother shouted from across the room, "Don't fill up her glass, you know she won't drink it! Give her the rotgut!", where I promptly turned to him and shot back, "I have tried and tried to be an alcoholic and I just can't do it!", muttering about lushes under my breath in a stage whisper, which was well received and we all laughed. 

This is what we do. I love my family. 

That I started drinking one or two glasses every day was near alcoholic proportions for me.

Anyway, that I was having a drink on a Friday night was not unusual. That I then drank every single day for about a month after that, was. As I said, I did not get falling down drunk, I was numbing myself...telling myself I just wanted to try this wine or have a little taste of that Irish cream I love, or share a drink with friends.

Either way, when I drank alone I ended up sobbing into my glass, curled up on my couch, sending one dog running for the room that didn't have a hysterical female in it, and my familiar dog to come cuddle against me as he has always done when I fall apart. I lamented hard and long, screaming to the universe about hating Ex (a serious step for me as I really try to stay away from hate), and my mistreatment at his hands combined with guilt for letting my children live so long in a situation that had most likely warped them, and me, for life. 

I cried and cried and cried. As I said, I scared the shit out of myself. So I took the Prozac and it helped me get ahold of my emotions. It's helped me even out my serotonin so I can look at my life more objectively and start to let things go. 

It also helped me sleep. Sleep! Gloriously deep, REM stage, dreaming sleep. 

I didn't know I wasn't sleeping well until I did. It's been years since I slept like that, and as I pondered it I realized that it was because I was always listening for small voices to call me from their rooms at night, whether they didn't feel well or were scared, which is a lovely reason to sleep lightly and I don't mind.

Alternately I was sleeping lightly because inevitably Ex would come storming into the bedroom and flip the light on in a rage because he couldn't find something, or something didn't work, demanding that I help him, or was just being an asshole because he felt turning on the light to empty his pockets at 11:30pm after I'd been in bed for at least an hour was a reasonable excuse to disturb my sleep patterns.

Sigh.

The point is, I've been taking this depression medication and it has helped me a lot. I know and love a lot of people who take meds for depression, including my son, and I've decided that when my scrip runs out I'm not going to renew it. I feel that by that time I will have a good handle on why and how I fall apart and will have gotten back into the habit of taking better care of myself via cognitive behavioral therapy and stop the voices (not literal voices - that's an altogether different diagnosis - but that bitch in my head that talks to me when I'm not being kind to myself) that put me down.

She tells me I'm fat, I'm guilty of ruining my marriage and children, I'm ugly and lazy, I'm a terrible housekeeper, that I'm going to die alone and that my children will resent me.

I hate that bitch, and when she sneaks up behind me and starts whispering all of these negative thoughts into my head I get out my hammer and blast her into oblivion.

It's a work in progress.

I Didn't Have to Unleash the Flying Monkeys

Daughter's open house went very well. Ex was late, as per usual, so I was able to hang out with her and have her show me most of what she's been doing in school before he showed up. He just looked sad. This is what he does when he's not in control, or is in public and has decided to play the part of, "The Best Ex Husband Ever", as if to say, 'Look what you've done to me.' 'Look what I've become because of you.' 'Look at me, I'm harmless.' 'You have made my life so sad.'

I held my head up and was as pleasant as I could be. There were so many people in the classroom that he could barely get near me, much less bother me...which he probably wouldn't have done anyway because he doesn't do anything where the public can see.

Ex's sad face could have been because he came by to drop off Son's skateboard on the way to work. Daughter came into the bathroom when I was about to get into the shower, scaring the hell out of me. I'll forgive her because she's cute. Damned exaggerated jumpiness. (I talked about that here.) She came into the bathroom to ask me if Ex could use the other bathroom. I paused long enough that she saw I was uncomfortable with it (I'll have to work on that.) then I said sure. I got into the shower. Never saw him, thank goodness. Hugged her goodbye and went on getting ready for work.

It was later that I realized I had washed a shirt Partner left at my house, and had hung it to dry in that bathroom. A man's linen shirt, clearly too big for Son. Well. There you go. That could have accounted for sad look as well. Out of all the things Ex has done to me over the years, he still occasionally shows remorse when he's caught off guard. Maybe that's what I was seeing. Or, that I had deliberately not thanked him for the Mother's Day presents, or wished him happy birthday. It's not my job anymore.

Don't care. I'm just thrilled I didn't have an anxiety attack and I was able to get out of there and flee to partner's house for some hugs, which always soothe me.

Edited for the Delicate

My brother asked me a while back if ex was happy about the result of the last court date, with astoundingly foul language I won't repeat here. He also made some indelicate suggestions about what to send ex in the mail. I love my brother.

My lawyer's assistant forgot to put me on her boss' schedule for our December appointment in court, so I had to sit in the courtroom with ex for an hour, right fucking next to him because he is the BEST EX HUSBAND EVER, fuming, to request a continuance to January. My lawyer's assistant called me to apologize and burst into tears, which made ME cry.

I don't know if he was happy or not. I didn't ask, and I don't care anymore. (I shouldn't say I don't care. I should say that it doesn't mean anything to me, but I'm not there yet.) He was very kind and understanding, which also doesn't mean anything anymore because he's hurt me too many times. It could be part of his current public act I've mentioned: The Perfect Father & Ex Husband. Or it could be totally sincere. I really have no idea and it's all wrapped up in my PTSD anxiety about never knowing what the hell he'll do next.

All I know is that when I assert myself he starts telling me what he thinks is the matter with me, or I hear something from the kids about something he said about me, my partner, or my friends, or he gleefully hints about what his family thinks about me, and once, he went out drinking with some friends and a friend of his (used to be a friend of OURS) started messaging me ugly things in the middle of the night, calling me a bitch for divorcing him. That night he sent me emails and texts and called me (I never answered) leaving me phone messages telling me to ignore his friend, and another friend of ours who was there was also messaging me to ignore the guy. I was up all night with anxiety attacks and it took me a week of misery to let that one go.

He scares me. A text or email can trigger me into an anxiety attack, and sometimes when we're in the same room, though that one is fairly rare as he doesn't show that side of himself if the kids or anyone else is around. When he tried to kiss my shoulder from behind a while back, I had an anxiety attack. I started shaking, and hyperventilating, and it took everything I had not to bolt. If nothing else I have a strong sense of responsibility to protect my children, and they don't need to see their mother flee in panic. It also happened when we were talking out in front of the house, doing the personal space dance. I don't want him in my personal space anymore. He wants to be in my space. So I move back a step and he follows. I think we went all over the driveway that evening.

I look at him like a science experiment that could explode at any moment: I keep my cards close to my chest, nod and smile at the grinning lunatic, get mad at myself when I let him hug me, then get the hell out of dodge. I'm going to be nice until the divorce is final, more likely until he pays me for my share of the house we co-own, then the gloves are off. I'm tired of being afraid of asserting myself, fearing that he'll start trying to control or manipulate me, or change his mind again about something we agreed on. I'm storing every text and email from him. I don't have plans to be unkind, but I do have plans to keep him out of my house and only talking about the kids. Nothing else. I should have collected keys and garage door opener, but he needs to help the kids get stuff in and out of the house and garage sometimes. I'm in the process of making that unnecessary for him.

That day in court did get him to suggest we meet with my lawyer BEFORE the next court date (my idea, suggested weeks and weeks before which he declined then forgot about) so he can get his penny pinching number details needs sorted out in his head so he'd sign the stupidy papers. He said he'd call her to schedule the appointment, then told me he wasn't going to call weeks later, that she was my lawyer, and would I please schedule the appointment before Christmas.

Incidentally, since then he's refused to sign any more papers. But it's too late. He shot himself in the foot. He was too cheap to get a lawyer and 'trusted' that I'd do right by him. What he did was sign enough so it doesn't matter that he refused to sign any more after that. I've forced his hand and am going to court one last time so the judge can bang that gavel and set me free.

Sigh.

Seven months later I'm still waiting for the divorce to be final. I'm counting on my fingers.