All Apologies

“In the sun I feel as one. Married. Buried.” Kurt Cobain

Apologies *can* be accepted, but they can’t always matter. Events can’t be reversed, words can’t be taken back, feelings can’t be unfelt, emotions can't be stifled.

I was issued a “I’m sorry” card by my ex-to-be, and I’ve been struggling with my feelings toward it. Mostly, I’m trying to decide exactly why I don’t have this desire to care.

First of all, you must know that Anne’s emotions have been on a malfunctioned rollercoaster for the past 2 months. Screaming at me. Anger. Sobbing. Pleading. Hatred. Insults. Happy. Helping. Disgust. Attacks. Pleasant. Joyful.

I guess we all handle trauma in our own way, and despite my role in affecting this divorce, I’m aware how this deal is a true emotional car wreck on all sides.

This week, we’ve been on an upswing. I am not sure what brought on this wave of positivity, but I’m certain an attorney’s call about her insulting and entrapping me within kids’ earshot likely helped. Part of me hopes that this is the beginning of us making a stable-but-separate relationship for the kids, but truthfully I fear her selfish need to manipulate me into coming back is at the core of her intentions.

I said I’m sorry, now let it go.

Those words are so familiar that I can’t see past them. I’ve heard apologies for the past 11 years. I’ve given apologies for the past 11 years.

What is she apologizing for? The same thing she told me I was wrong about, five days ago? Five months ago? Five years ago? What are you sorry for?


I believe in saying your sorry. However, it’s the intention of saying it I mind. It can’t always fix the problem. Can a victim accept an apology from his killer?

The wounds are there. Sorry leaves you with:

- No responsibility for bad behavior
- No resolution
- No solving the problem
- No further communication
- No emotional response
- No conviction
- No assurance that it won’t happen again.

It’s like walking a fresh dusting of snow and forgetting about the hazardous slippery ice underneath. I can’t see past the hurt, the reduction, the manipulation. I can’t forget how I’ve been told I’m wrong to feel that way.

I’m sorry, but it’s not going to work.


(dresser)

Thank you...

http://singledads.wordpress.com/2008/10/15/how-to-stiflethe-pain-of-separation/

Every Little bit helps.

Guinea Pigs and School Buses

It took awhile, but I learned a valuable lesson this weekend: in the end, I can't be there.

This, I surmised after a long weekend with my kids... sort of a "weekend on, weekend off" deal I'm trying to work out with Anne. It seems to be going well, despite the friction from Anne who peppers my efforts with vocal passive aggression and inflexibility. ("Oh, I want to go..." she announces when the kids tell her our Sunday plans, leading my 3-year-old to invite her along.)

Our weekend began on Saturday morning, long before I arrived to pick Sam and Josie up, with a heated phone call between their mom and I. She shouted angry words at me, accusations, abandonment, anything to make me feel small. I have to admit, for awhile it worked.

I stumbled briefly, mostly because of my unclear plans -- a few days earlier she had made comments opposing a Daddy Weekend, arguing, saying the kids wanted both their parents to take them to the apple orchard. (...I'm sure they came up with that on their own.) Saturday, it went about-face. Daddy Weekend on... no other plans. Logic spiraling. Head games. Frustration.

To worsen matters, Josie didn't want a sleepover at my house so I was relegated to sleep on the couch as Anne had "plans to go out" and could not be expected home for the kids. More games. I did my best, acting unaffected, unrattled by this curveball designed to thwart my confidence. "You look like a cowardly defeated man!" I was told Saturday morning.

But in reality, I was very strong.

I showed up and dressed the kids as Anne left for breakfast with friends. The weekend went beautifully, with lots of outdoor activities for the kids and lots of time to watch them laugh and smile.

But still, hurtful feelings crept into my head. "Abandoner!"

I fought those feelings for two days. Feeling the urgency to prove her wrong. Fighting the twisted feeling of guilt rising inside me in my moments of weakness.

But, I *was* there: laughing with them, feeding them, doing their laundry, teaching them, supporting their emotions, kissing their playground injuries, helping them with homework.

It all came to me in one moment... two actually. First, was a heartbreaker: Josie waiting anxiously all night for mom to come home so she could ask for the Guinea Pig we saw at Petco, only to be told "no. never." in one swift cut.

Desperate, painful crying and sadness.

I tried. "Don't get your hopes up," I had warned her on the car ride home, but a 7-year-old with a soft heart for cute, cuddly animals knows no restraint. As the tears flowed like I haven't seen, in this instant I realized I couldn't have helped her. I couldn't shield her from this letdown. No matter how, I wouldn't make a difference in this little girl's heartbreak. As much as I wanted to. As much as I felt it was my job to.

All I could do was listen to her cry.

This morning, a passing school bus offered me the same resolution. Initially, feelings of pain ran through me, of compassion, of worrying about my kids on the school bus. Would they be bullied? Would they be safe? How can I protect them from the world they're driving into?

Then, it suddenly dawned on me: there was nothing I could do. I can't ride the bus everyday. I can only talk to them about life, and about hardness, and hope to be there for them if things don't work out -- be it in-person or on the phone. Consistently as I am.

It's a lesson I learn everyday.

I am a good dad. I'll never abandon that post.






(heart)

Believe

I realized tonight that much of the moon's beauty is the result of being bombarded again and again by asteroids.

Its beauty endures and always gives hope for a beautiful day tomorrow. My love for the moon everlasting, grows stronger despite the hits, the bombardment, the distance.

Don't lose faith in what tomorrow offers.

(soon)

The little things...

The article that saved me today.

http://singledads.wordpress.com/2007/12/13/the-empty-room/

...........................................<

Some days are harder than others...