It’s back. I had done my best to ignore it for the past 6 weeks with a sophisticated blend of alcohol, barbituites, and denial. Unfortunately an incident at my son’s school shook me back to reality. Just when I thought I had the bastard conquered, he lunges for my throat. Pain, gotta love it.
I really thought things had been going well. Both jobs are rolling along and I have a great idea for a business. I have been meeting new, interesting people (of both sexes, amazingly…) and have truly started to embrace Kansas City and find my way in its off-beat culture. Yet, somehow I knew it would inevitably begin to crumble.
I could tell by the tone of her voice during the message that there was some sort of problem. I do not typically get the 7:45 a.m. “call me” messages from her. In fact, I do not typically get messages from her anymore at all. As it turns out, my son had been suspended from school for threatening another child. Apparently in this post-Columbine, post-9/11 world that type of behavior is unacceptable. The threats were idle and were nothing more then kids being kids. The suspension was minor. The whole incident was minor, but the effect it had on me would hardly fall into that category.
Somehow I reasoned that this issue had roots in the divorce. That enormous sense of abandonment returned and the gears of remorse, rue, and regret began to turn in my head again. For the first time in 12 months I seriously began to contemplate a return to Ohio. Rather than let this sense of failure as a parent continue to dominate my life and dictate my behavior, why not return and face it head on? It seems so simple; why not just go back so that I do not always have that giant “what if” hanging over me. To any normal, reasonably sane individual the answer would be simple; unfortunately, I am neither normal nor sane hence the difficulties. If I am to return I need to know that she will at least make an effort at reconciliation. I need that for selfish reasons, but I also need it for the most unselfish reason of all—the children.
I am not the same person she divorced. I like to think I have changed for the better and I like to think that she would be able to recognize that in me and I like to think that things could move forward for the sake of the all parties involved. Of course, I also like to think that she is happy to be rid of me and doing better without me; hence, the pain.
On a lighter note, I could always go back to reading imbecilic, myopic ramblings. At least everything is right in the world.
I really thought things had been going well. Both jobs are rolling along and I have a great idea for a business. I have been meeting new, interesting people (of both sexes, amazingly…) and have truly started to embrace Kansas City and find my way in its off-beat culture. Yet, somehow I knew it would inevitably begin to crumble.
I could tell by the tone of her voice during the message that there was some sort of problem. I do not typically get the 7:45 a.m. “call me” messages from her. In fact, I do not typically get messages from her anymore at all. As it turns out, my son had been suspended from school for threatening another child. Apparently in this post-Columbine, post-9/11 world that type of behavior is unacceptable. The threats were idle and were nothing more then kids being kids. The suspension was minor. The whole incident was minor, but the effect it had on me would hardly fall into that category.
Somehow I reasoned that this issue had roots in the divorce. That enormous sense of abandonment returned and the gears of remorse, rue, and regret began to turn in my head again. For the first time in 12 months I seriously began to contemplate a return to Ohio. Rather than let this sense of failure as a parent continue to dominate my life and dictate my behavior, why not return and face it head on? It seems so simple; why not just go back so that I do not always have that giant “what if” hanging over me. To any normal, reasonably sane individual the answer would be simple; unfortunately, I am neither normal nor sane hence the difficulties. If I am to return I need to know that she will at least make an effort at reconciliation. I need that for selfish reasons, but I also need it for the most unselfish reason of all—the children.
I am not the same person she divorced. I like to think I have changed for the better and I like to think that she would be able to recognize that in me and I like to think that things could move forward for the sake of the all parties involved. Of course, I also like to think that she is happy to be rid of me and doing better without me; hence, the pain.
On a lighter note, I could always go back to reading imbecilic, myopic ramblings. At least everything is right in the world.
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