#36: Another Tick On The To-Do List

Sunday, July 13, 2015

Another Tick On The To-Do List

I am tired.  I am emotionally worn out.  I am elated.  I am completely and utterly in a “phew” state of being right now.

It has now been 12 days since my financial status has changed.  Have I divulged that I declared personal bankruptcy on September 30, 2014?  Well, if not, I did.  Nine months later, on July 1st of this year (12 days ago), my bankruptcy was discharged.  I am now debt free.  A huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

I will not be going into the details of why bankruptcy was a route to be taken.  Suffice to say, that it was necessary from my point of view.  I knew that this was one of the big matters requiring attention when I left my husband 359 days ago.  That matter, at least for me, is now a fait accompli.  I have my certificate.  Creditors can no longer look to me for repayment.

And less than seven days afterwards, I put myself right back into debt!!!!

I bought myself a brand new Jeep.

The ‘93 Honda Accord that we (my children and I) have been driving for the past year, totally gave up.  Ironically enough, on the day we were going into the city to pick up a family member’s car to “car sit” for a few weeks, the Honda decided to start acting funny.  A quick diagnosis by one of our mechanics at work stated “head gasket”.  That was that.  The Honda was done.

The next 24 hours were spent getting my financing approved, locating the vehicle of my choice (Jeep Patriot) from a dealership in the city, finalizing the transfer and then driving into the city to pick it up and drive home!  I didn’t officially own it until 2 days later, but I got to bring it back to Squamish.

And what an amazing evening that was.  A brand new, 2015 Jeep Patriot, elegantly coloured with Granite Crystal Metallic paint (in other words, dark grey!), and just sitting there waiting for ME!!!

This was a HUGE step forward for me.  To be clear of the debt, to breathe freely financially, to know that it was ME, and ME alone, that led to the particular moment when I unlocked my new car (SUV) for the first time.  To sit inside something so new, so clean, so elegant, so sturdy, so secure, so SAFE, and so trustworthy completely wrapped up everything I have been trying to accomplish these past 18 months.

Yes, I know, I am accomplishing so much for myself and my children.  But, this is the first tangible evidence of what I have accomplished and everything I have strived to do for me and my children.  Provide safety.  Provide security.  Provide love and laughter and a roof over our heads.  And the Jeep completely, and metaphorically, represents all that.  (Yes, I do realize it is only a vehicle with four wheels!)

I feel safe in that vehicle.  I feel secure in that vehicle.  I feel relief in that vehicle.  I feel satisfaction knowing that it was my efforts and dedication to the task at hand that got me into the driver’s seat of this vehicle.

And now, I feel as if I need to rest.

This was a big one to accomplish.  It wasn’t necessarily difficult to achieve.  The bankruptcy was incredibly straightforward, civilized and painless.  Nine months passed so quickly without any kind of hiccup.  It was simply a huge step forward with my own independence.  It was a huge step forward with my own accomplishments (or my ongoing list of accomplishments).

And as one feels after a good, long hike:  I need time to sit back, put my feet up, relax, breathe and slowly get myself ready for the next task.  Maybe have a glass of wine too, while I cook our Sunday feast!

I have dubbed it “Deb’s D & D”:  Discharge and Divorce.  The former has been realized.  Now for the second “D”.

I have gone back and forth while researching divorces.  Do I prepare for a Jointly-Filed Divorce (one that might be accomplished if my husband and I could sit down and realistically discuss what is to happen next), or do I prepare for a Sole-Applicant Divorce that may need to assume that my marriage will end in silence?

The paperwork for the divorce will always be on my shoulders.  I know that, and I have no problem with that.  It’s the silence between us, the unspoken heartfelt words on my part that may go unspoken that truly breaks my heart.  I was taught to say Thank You, and I want to say Thank You to my husband because, regardless of anything else and the reasons for us being apart, he deserves to be thanked.  He deserves to know of my gratitude for all the incredibly phenomenal events that made up our marriage.  The possible silence is heart-wrenching.

Yes, I have a letter for him that the children can deliver when they next see him, but I will probably never have the opportunity to speak those words to him.  To look him in the eye and say what I sincerely want to say.

The last time I looked him in the eye was two weeks after I had left, and telling him “I’m sorry, I can’t do that” when asked if he would be coming to live with me/us again.

I know where his head is at with all of this.  I know my husband.  I know his perspective.  I am not surprised.  I was hoping, perhaps against all odds, that civility, compassion or respect for our time together would show forth and allow him to answer my text.  

I have gone back and forth on the wording of such a statement, if we are ever to be face to face in the near future.  Statements ranging from “we should talk about what to do next; or “I would like a divorce”; or “I want a divorce”; to the final selection:  “I am filing for divorce”.

The power is in my hands.  There is no room for misinterpretation or power-playing or permission.  I am doing what I want to do.  I am informing him, not seeking his permission or approval, for what my actions will be.

So, a Do-It-Yourself Sole Applicant Divorce it is.  Time to download the kit and get on with it.

During my drive back to Squamish with my dealership-owned Patriot, I drove down roads on whim, winding my way through lovely neighbourhoods in Vancouver; winding my way through the neighbourhoods I have lived in Vancouver.  Places that meant something to me.  And I worked my way down to Kits Beach, where we lived in our one-bedroom apartment together, played tennis on the tennis courts a block from our apartment, where we bought warm bagels from Siegel’s Bagels, and learned how to rollerblade together on the Sea Wall.  The apartment from which we planned our Wedding.  I parked the Jeep (it’s not a car!) and walked out towards the anchorage.  The place was alive with city dwellers enjoying the urban sunset (blazing red because of all the smoke from provincial wildfires).  And then I saw it, the boat that I had lived on for four years.  The big Canadian Flag loosely hanging off the stern.  The hand-carved wooden mast standing above the steel hull.  No barking dog running around on deck.  A sole dinghy floating around out back.  All quiet, but someone was home.  I could feel it.  I stopped and watched for a while.  I took a picture of the boat and sent each of my children the photo, telling them exactly where I was.

And once again, I was surprised at the grief that rapidly bubbled to the surface.   Tears rolling down my cheeks, a sob working its way up from my gut.  Sadness appearing.  Loss of a beautiful thing.  Loss of what once was.  Was he watching me through binoculars?

The people passing by, taking photographs of the Kits Beach activities and the sunset over English Bay, laughing light-heartedly, had not a clue of the composure I was trying to maintain.  Pure grief welling up from the depths of my being.  Grief and sadness for the ultimate closing of the curtain now.  The final act is upon us, or rather upon me.  It will be me who takes the final bow.  It will be me who will be totally and completely aware that the end of my marriage is drawing nigh.

Shared knowledge between my husband and I is a thing of the past.

Somehow, somewhere, he will learn of our marital dissolution.  Whether it be from papers being served (good luck with that!), or through the children, or through other members of the family, I do not know.  But, I do know that now it will be me, once again, bringing about the next phase of change in our lives.

C’est la vie.

Au Revoir, mon chere.