Wednesday, February 01, 2012
I received quite a few comments on my blog post last week on FaceBook. I answered some directly on the FaceBook thread, however I would like to explain (or re-explain) what my blog was trying to say.
First, my anger was not because I wanted my son to know every detail as to why my husband and I were divorcing. My husband could want to mate with turtles, for all I care. My anger was directed at the willy-nilly Child Psychologist who wants us to say to our son, verbatim, “Mommy and Daddy still love each other, they just can’t live with each other. But their love for you will never change.” Knowing how my son thinks, he is going to look at us and say, “If you love each other, why don’t you want to live with each other? And if you love me, are you still going to want to live with me??” I despise the wording this so-called professional wants us to use. I came up with a very gentle, neutral way of breaking the news to our son, but my husband wants to use the psychologist’s wording, essentially because he is the one who is paying her and also because I am not a child psychologist. My husband also needs a “mother-figure” to hold his hand while we speak with our son. He has always relied on his Mother’s opinion before making any major decisions. My feeling now is that my son is more of a “man” at eight-years-old than my husband ever will be. My son will need me as his mother just because of his age and our relationship. But my son is a bigger person than my husband will ever be. He will walk away from our talk very confused, but as I pointed out in one of my FaceBook threads, I will be the one doing damage control later on and have to reexplain to my son what is going on. I will be the one to clarify to our son that my husband’s and my love for him is never ending. It transcends anything and everything. But sometimes that is not always the case with adults. I even thought it might be empowering to my son to “break the news” to our dog. I honestly feel our dog knows a change is coming. He senses it and thus has been acting quite “off” lately. So, perhaps by having my son tell our dog, I will be able to see whether what I told my son translated accurately and our dog can be the “clarifier.” If my son says to me, “Maxi wants to know...…,” I will then know what type of questions my son has and what is churning in his little mind.
The second entity that I am angry with is the court “system.” Yes, I am perfectly aware that time cannot stand still for us and that the various court appointed individuals need to get their jobs done. The longer we take, the more difficult it makes for the jobs of these professionals. However, we are ultimately dealing with human beings who have emotions and feelings to consider. The most important being a child. If we need more time than is typically “allotted,” appoint a different professional to our case. I have come to despise institutionalized thinking, which is why I stopped working in a hospital. I couldn’t stand the bureaucracy that goes on when you are dealing with human lives. I despise it even more now. Not allowing a family the time to interview Child Psychologists to see which one resonates the best with them is not in anyone’s best interest. Particularly the child. I am going to have to bite my tongue as my husband uses the “script” that this child psychologist is recommending. I told him flat out that if he chooses to use the words the child psychologist recommended, I am remaining mute. I will reassure to our son that our love for him is forever. I will clarify that both Daddy and I will love him every second of every day because he is our child. The love for your child only grows, it never disappears or goes away. And I will end up having to completely rectify all of the inappropriate wording my husband insists on using. But I am used to having to do that at this point anyway.
Finally, I am still raging mad at my coward of a husband. What person has a close intimate relationship with another for 23 years and can’t even give them a small clue as to why they want to end a relationship. Twenty-three years. That’s roughly half of my life. Thrown away. Tossed into boxes. Hidden in the bowels of the basement. I gave him have of my life. I think I deserve a little more respect concerning the demise of our relationship. Then again, perhaps I’m lucky. I could have given him three-quarters of my life and ended up exactly where I am today. With the exception of an older child.
So, dear readers, I apologize for my ranting, confusing blog. I hope that this one does a better job at clarifying my feelings and the situation I am faced with. Most of all, thank you for all of your comments. I learned from them, appreciated them and feel that although I may be confusing you at times, you still read what I write. My thanks goes out to all of you.