Another milestone is set to take place later today. In May of 2007 I got married, and on the last day of January in 2019 my divorce should be finalized. At 8:30 AM we have a court session. There are no kids or assets to bicker over, it's not a contested proceeding, so I'm under the impression that we just have to have some judge rubber stamp the paperwork and be done with it.
I wasn't planning on discussing my failed marriage much, but as I'm sure I'll need to reference it here in the future at various points it would probably help to talk about it a little now for reasons of context.
The fact is: Our marriage was pretty shaky from the word go. I couldn't say precisely when I realized that this relationship was one huge misstep, but it was pretty early on. By 2010, just three years into our marriage, I was already under so much distress between my marriage and work that I went as far down the drug fueled rabbit hole as I've ever been - or ever want to be. It was a dark time in my life when I suffered a semi-public meltdown at work and was forced into a sabbatical for just under three weeks pending medical clearance to return.
There were several things that kept us together far beyond our relationship's expiration date. Laziness ranks high on that list, as we'd built a little life together with consistent income that allowed us to live more comfortably than either of us could afford separately.
There were also the cats, seemingly the only bright spots in my otherwise pitch black world. I considered my cats my best friends, and they were the only living creatures who seemed to notice and/or care that I was so miserable. They never failed to make me smile, laugh and feel loved and appreciated.
Splitting up would have meant splitting up the cats, leaving one or more behind, and then search for the proverbial needle in the haystack with finding an apartment that I could both afford AND allows cats, all within reasonable distance from my job considering I don't drive.
There was also the guilt: When we were dating and she ran into issues with her landlord, I brought her into the place my mother and I shared. Less than three years later I proposed to her. I told her all those sweet words I picked up from books and movies to make her feel like she was the most special and loved woman in the world. And I'm the one who couldn't keep up the act for the long haul.
I've no doubt that Chelsea loved me with all her heart, but we were fundamentally different people with different expectations. I never got the emotional sustenance I needed from our relationship, and it would be entirely fair to say that she didn't get that from me either.
We fought frequently, often over inconsequential topics. Clearly we just annoyed each other on a core level. It wasn't hate or even dislike per se, but being confined with one person with whom you've already exhausted each and every conversation or common interest you can possibly have and left with the realization that: "Oh, you aren't the one... fuck, what now?", and hence seeing one of your life's great mistakes personified, henpecking and berating you over some bullshit.
Talk of splitting up had come up many, many times over the decade we lived together as a couple. Sometimes she'd get very angry, often she would get very emotional and accuse me of trying to make her and the kitties homeless. It tended to always end up with us in our seperate corners while I considered just how murky the concept of "the right thing" had become as I got older.
Staying in a failed marriage isn't the right thing to do, ethically. It's poison to the soul. However, leaving her to her own devices, struggling to feed the cats she ended up with... that didn't seem right either. Then thinking on how tough it would be for me to get by on just my paycheck - and 100% stuck in that job that I'd already realized was a bad fit for me.
Thus I always came down on the side of least resistance. I'd retreat more into my sanctuary, interact with Chelsea less and less until we were basically roommates. Our sex life dwindled into virtually nothing, and we'd agreed early on to do the whole "open marriage" thing - to ensure her physical needs were getting met.
Understand that in my mind this wasn't an issue. As far as I was concerned, some other guy can deal with her shit for a while and I could have the apartment to myself for a night. Win/Win.
I wouldn't even have mentioned that save for the fact that this open marriage deal eventually gave me an out when the idea of hiking the Appalachian Trail first materialized.
At the time we had three cats, with one being hers from before we'd met and the other two having been given directly to me - one by a work colleague many years ago when I was employed at the mall and the other by my father. I could have - and under other circumstances would have - claimed those two cats (Linus and Lucas) as my own and taken them with me. They're like children to me.
But I knew I couldn't take them on the Trail, or expect family to watch them when I'm away. Any place I could have rented at that time wasn't likely to accept two cats as well. Also, while I was always the superstar in the house as far as all the felines were concerned, they love their mommy too. It would be a lot to put them through to separate them like that, only to have them alone for the 6-8 months I'm away hiking.
I knew I'd have to let them stay with Chelsea, but how would she be able to afford living on her own and properly caring for three cats, two of them elderly at that point?
Remember how I said that the open marriage provided me an out? As it turns out, Chelsea's "side piece" was more than happy to be more than a side piece and offered to move in when I left. When it was clear the marriage was going to end, he proposed to her and she accepted.
So I left the kitties behind - the hardest part of the whole process by far - and he moved in.
I can say that we've gotten along 100% better since the split, though we primarily communicate through text. She does let me come visit the cats every now and then when her fiance isn't around. I have no ill will towards the guy, but apparently he's not a fan of mine. I'm sure being the shoulder that Chelsea went to cry on when it became clear that our split was real this time, he likely heard a very one sided account of things. I guess that's understandable.
Still, it's been over two years since I moved out, you'd think he'd get the concept that I'm definitely not in competition with him. He's free to have her, and I'm glad he's in the picture. I can continue on my journey knowing my cats have a warm home, food in their bowls and plenty of love from their mommy.
Perhaps after today he'll chill out as we put the final patches of dirt over the grave of our doomed marriage... and for my part, there is one less tether binding me to Worcester.
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