This co-parenting thing ...

Is tough. Especially when the other parent is - intentionally or not - complicating things. A lot. Especially when the other parent decides to back out of a day with his son, and then an hour later decide he wants to have his son after all, and then the next morning act all covert-ops and refuse to text me about his schedule and then just disappear when he's supposed to be picking up Asher.

Especially when the other parent feels like they are all alone, no one is helping them or caring about them and their schedule and their needs, and that they are constantly getting the short end of the stick, Natalie. You have people helping you, Natalie. If I could be xyz all the time, Natalie, that would be great. But I can't.

Well apparently, because of his subsequent failures and disappointments, I am the responsible party; for causing this divorce, for demanding things from him that are just so unreasonable. I'm responsible for his lack of responsibility (!), his lack of maturity, his lack of willingness to work hard and make an effort at life. Because apparently he wasn't this sad and this alienated and this much of a failure when I met him; it's just gotten worse and worse, thanks to my encouragement.

I mean really, we're talking about *his* son here, too. If he wants to see him, he can see him. The schedule is simply there to make our lives as structured and predictable (in at least this one area) as possible so we all know what's happening next and there isn't total chaos. But of course he thrives on total chaos, being the center of attention and then acting like it's everyone else's problem that there is chaos and he's just the innocent victim. So of course he screws up the schedule and then blames me for expecting from him: responsibility, consistency, follow-through. God. Forbid.

I tried not to lull myself into thinking that co-parenting would be a breeze. I knew it wouldn't be. If moving out was this hard on me, I knew co-parenting would present its own set of challenges. I do still have to interact with him and try to make those interactions as friendly and caring and thoughtful and peaceful as possible - FOR ASHER. However, if I'm the only one making those efforts and taking those strides toward an amicable relationship, it will only fail. Which is the obvious end result. If you think about our marriage, it failed for the same reason. You can't have a partnership where one partner is dragging the other partner through the relationhip, forcing them to be responsible, be an adult ... because they are lazy and think everything is A-OK all the while blaming the other partner for making them feel like a failure.

So yeah, I knew that if nothing changed inside him, this relationship would be no different than our marriage. But it's still hard. It's still really difficult to know that I have to deal with this stunted, selfish person who doesn't even know or care how to interact with me in an adult and mutually respectful way, for the next twenty years. He doesn't even see the care and respect I give to him as such. He has always thought my interactions with him are barbed with judgment and rudeness and malice. Good God that is exhausting.

I don't know how this thing is going to go. Some days it seems fine and other days it's a rollercoast ride, a balancing act, a back and forth between reason and completely irrational emotion. Maybe in time things will settle into a more comfortable and predictable routine. For everyone's sake I know that's what needs to happen but I can't force it to happen. If I've learned anything, I know I can't make anything happen with or for him that he doesn't also want to happen. My entire marriage was me trying so hard to get him to be a success, to think better of himself; and I finally realized what a crazy-making, failed-from-the-start endeavor THAT was. Despite what he says he's a glutton for punishment. He refuses to break away from that rut so it's all he knows and all he allows.

At least this time around I can know from the start that I can do nothing to control or manage this situation except to ensure Asher's care and safety and to ensure MY sanity by staying above the fray of drama. Or at least trying.

That nervous pit goes away eventually ... right?

As I have finally stepped back from my life and taken a good look at what's going on, it's been something of a shock. The type of person I have been up to this point is blind and oblivious, no matter how in tune I think I am. I have been an 'all in' kind of person and when I go all in, I don't look back; I don't look anywhere. I just go. And then realize once it's too late that I've made a massive error. For the last eight years or so, I haven't really looked too hard at what I've been doing, right now, in this moment. I think I'm doing the right thing, I think I'm taking the right steps so I just take them and do my thing and do it wholeheartedly, which for me means without thinking. I have always been a forward thinking person - I am a planner - but somehow I have managed to blindly lead myself down a path that has gotten me through eight years of marriage that didn't fulfill but instead drained me, used me, and spat me back out. Now I'm embarking on a totally new life - a fresh start - that I never expected. I should have expected all of this. I just didn't want to; I didn't want to see it because I thought I was working so hard and doing all the right things to avoid this. But here I am.

I've had a pit in my stomach for a long time. When I realized how I had failed at my own life - and how hugely disappointed I was - there was kind of a soul-wrenching realization that settled in heavy and hard and hasn't let go. I don't think it does until I have been painfully and thoroughly honest with myself and decide to face the reasons instead of ignoring them yet again.

This whole year has been an eye-opening experience for me. I still feel like I'm walking through a fog and just leaning toward the dim light that will guide me out eventually. That light being a new direction for my life. I have been so scared to make any real and necessary changes for a long time because I didn't want to see how wrong I was: I made a really big mistake.

The last straw - the last handful of straws, really - has made me finally see what the hell is going on, what I've been putting up with and what has actually been a bunch of red flags - deal breakers - that I've been ignoring all along. Once I finally acknowledged them, it was a huge, relieving gasp of air. Like I've been sinking slowly and never even opened my eyes to see the surface slowly fading away. Once I 'got it', once I made a change - a last-ditch lurch toward the surface - that gasp of air was my wake up call. It's a weird moment. For me it really wasn't just one moment. It was a slow fade, a gradient experience as I was slowly waking up to my reality. It was like waking in the morning. There is a period where you are awake but don't quite know it ... you still drift in and out of a sleepy dream state and eventually the sensory input from around you comes on stronger than your dreams and you are fully awake. Now I just have to see that through and trust what I'm doing. It has felt right ever since I made my choice. It still feels right. Deep down, I know it's right. It's incredibly, achingly difficult, but it's right. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

I'm starting over. I'm doing what I need. I'm finding myself again. It's painful and nerve-wracking; and that pit still lingers. But one of these days it will be gone and it won't come back.


"I now realize that lives fall apart when they need to be rebuilt. Lives fall apart when the foundation upon which they were built needs to be relaid. Lives fall apart, not because God is punishing us for what we have or have not done. Lives fall apart because they need to. They need to because they weren't built the right way in the first place."

~ Iyanla Vanzant