I’m trying to be positive about this whole bullshit getting dumped by my husband after I had a baby shitstorm. But really that isn’t the whole experience so there’s no point in writing like I’m Ms Silver Linings.
Today Gingerbread meet up was cancelled, swimming classes at Selby were cancelled and then my friend was poorly so we were alone with no plans. We had a wander around Selby, bought some charity shop stuff and had to stop at a million places for various bits. This is a total nuisance now Emily has a big girl car seat which doesn’t leave the car.
Anyway I returned home exhausted with a car full of crap and a screaming baby. Obviously I couldn’t wait for my husband to come home and empty it because it would be four days with all the stuff piled high and a stinky raw chicken in the back.
Once some of the bags and screaming baby and I were in I had a letter from work about my return to work hours. Not a big deal but the wording wasn’t what we discussed and I’m not sure whether to go into it further or just sign. Basically a ball ache I cannot be arsed with and don’t know if they will agree to. I just wanted for someone to come home for me to discuss it with and have a hug… which is clearly not going to happen.
And as I love thinking ahead and catastrophising I start thinking about how everything is all my burden. There is no one to share the emotional and financial load of family life with me. Then obviously the anger sets in. The same old I DID NOT FUCKING SIGN UP TO THIS line that plays on repeat in my head. I did everything by the book. I got my career, bought a house, got married, planned this baby. Fuck you for changing your mind. Fuck you. My life would have been so (relatively) comfortable if I had the support of a committed husband / father. Now it’s just me doing every fucking thing and quite frankly I’m pissed off.
Our financial commitments were always modest so we could have scraped by on either one of our salaries if we had to. I took a lot of comfort from that. It would have been highly unlikely that we would both lose our jobs. Now it’s all on me and I know that once I’m back at work all the paranoia that I would be fired or made redundant is going to come back at me tenfold.
I read a book by Emma Johnson called Kickass Single Mom. She is all American enthusiasm and you can be whatever you want, dream it, make it blah blah, don’t take maintenance from your ex, rely on yourself. Don’t feel entitled to help from them earn your own. Some people might agree with her and think it is inspiring. Nah. Not in the mood. Fuck you Emma.
I’m adding Emma and the ex to my fuck you list. It’s like Arya’s kill list but instead of killing them I just ignore the WhatsApp when a photo request to see the baby in her new pyjamas comes through. It sounds like a very low level revenge but she is super cute right now so he is MISSING OUT. Fuck him.