This time, it’s different
by Zoeyjane
I’ve been here before, crazy and frantic, checking the budget against the bank balances and the billable hours against the calendar. I’ve had the thought that the one thing I’ve been able to rely on for timely income for the past three years might not happen this time, many times. I loathe my reliance on him.
Again.
But this time it’s different.
This time, I’m not feeling sorry for myself and assessing which bills I can put off paying, just in case. This time, I’m not mentally clocking myself one, because of my lack of proactivity. This time, I’m not saying, I will get more work, until I have enough that it won’t matter whether he’s got a job or not.
Except, I kind of am, I guess.
But this time it’s different.
This time, I’m on Lithium, and I actually intend to sleep so that I can get work done that’s due, and look for more. This time, I have a plan on the brain, for how to get that portfolio aesthetic demon off my back, so I’m no longer too ashamed to send it out to would-be clients. This time, I’m changed.
Before, I didn’t want to be reliant on his money, but I was grateful for it, and it led me to a life of sloth. I wrote and designed only as much as I needed to, for clients that came to me, when I felt like it. If there was tv to be had, or an evening with a book, I’d choose it over the pay, because I could. Because his money would be there. Because we had a few sheets of paper signed and sealed in court, saying he owed it to me.
That’s not his truth, and it shouldn’t be mine.
His is this: he hates me. He’s jobless. He’s recently sober. He’s portraying a life of greatness, without me, my support or the crutch he’s relied upon for 16 years. He might have become someone different over night, and that portrayal would certainly indicate it to anyone who doesn’t know him, but I don’t buy it. I’ve never met a person so resistant to change in my life. Even change that he wants and needs. In fact, it wasn’t until me that he found the courage to not work jobs he wasn’t happy in. Unfortunately, he might have learned that lesson too well.
Here’s mine: I have no ill will toward him, and I think that if he can be a parent – even if that means being a radically different kind from the one I am – then he should be. I think his daughter should be at his side as much as possible, if it’s healthy for the two of them. I have entered another place, entirely different from the high and low I’ve always danced with him. I just want everyone to be happy. I want everything to be fair. I want him to remain sober, even if the cost of that is his constant hatred for me and that we can never be friends again.
Some prices are worth it, for the reward.
I joked today with my best friend: he’s confused by my lack of anger. He doesn’t get why I’m not yelling or cursing, or calling him on his dick moments. I would have, months ago. She laughed, proclaiming it a great strategy, and I laughed as well. But really, why aren’t I?
Why am I not raging against the rudeness, controlling her time with him, telling him every idiom of wrong-doing he is doing? Why am I so lax?
Temperamental peace. I have it, now.
That, and he got sober, despite it being the one thing he said he never wanted, or intended to do. He chose Zoë, for the first time in her life. I think that was all I ever wanted or needed from him – for him to choose her, instead of himself.
Even if it meant he’d never choose me, again.
So here I am, and this time, it’s different.
This time, I will not rely upon him, because I’m going to rely on myself. This time, I will not be waiting and hoping for the time to come when things seem amicable. This time, I will not play emotional pong, taking my moods from his, cuing up fights in my head the moment he walks in the door and refuses to look at me.
This time, I will move on and write my way into economic peace, too.
