In Which I Decide Not To Stay In Bed All Day--Again

From later in the day: Some good suggestions for names for my husband, soon-to-be-ex, whatever, but none of them seem quite right. An idea popped into my head while I was driving today (why is it that I get so many ideas when I'm doing that? and can't write anything down?) and I thought I'd run it by you. What about the name "He Who Was"? Let me know what you think...

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This last week...Well, let's just say that there are quite a few parts of it that I would rather not have experienced. As you could tell from my last post, I'm not exactly sunshine and daisies right now. I'm sure my friends and family have been having the times of their lives talking to and hanging out with me.

It's a measure of their love for me that they haven't given me a sharp, bracing kick to the rear so far.

Yesterday it became clear to me that even though I was saying to myself and everyone else (dang it, that sounds familiar--pattern of behavior, much?) that I wasn't getting my hopes up about my husband changing his mind about divorce, that I wasn't placing too much expectation in God performing a miracle the way I wanted it, that I was being all practical and stuff about the future...well, let's just say that yesterday highlighted the lie.

So my reality? Yes, I'm getting divorced. And since I won't be contesting, it apparently could happen in as little as four months or so. As my husband said, there's a booming industry designed to help people get through divorces in a minimum of time, money, and fuss.

God bless America.

(And I really do have to figure out a new blog name for him. "ComputerDaddy" is too intimate and redolent of the old days; "my husband" will no longer be accurate and is too painful to use; "the boys' father" is just too distant and almost bitchy. Any suggestions?)

Anywho, I spent the rest of the day in bed after he picked up the kids and we had The Talk that made things quite clear. I watched movie after movie on Netflix online. I finally watched the third Matrix movie, which was so much better than that horrendous second one that now I wish I hadn't put it off so long. Kind of took the bad taste out of my mouth as regards that trilogy. (Though I still just cannot see Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Ann Moss as some wonderfully romantic couple. I mean, ick.) I also ate an entire (smallish) Red Baron pizza. I was tempted to go get a case of Cherry Coke and blow my summer "no pop" resolution in one big blaze of bubbly glory, but I didn't have the energy to drive to the store.

My sister called at one point, all bouncy and talkative as she drove home from her ten-year reunion in one of the Carolinas. I really didn't feel like talking, cuz I was in full-blown pity party mode, but she offered to just talk while I listened (which, realistically, is often what happens anyway--love you, SoccerSister!). Before I knew it, she was drawing me out with a discussion of Margaret Atwood's books (she's brilliant, we agree, but otherwise I hate her endings and am not a fan, while SoccerSister adores her stuff) and social commentary in literature and then how SoccerSister should really read more of Ursula le Guin beyond the Wizard of Earthsea trilogy...And I forgot, for a little while, to feel sorry for myself.

There are times when God knows what we need even when we think it's not what we want.

Don't get me wrong: I still indulged in self-pity the rest of the night, but that conversation was a reminder that it doesn't have to be this way all the time.

I slept in this morning, a glorious snooze that carried me all the way to eleven ay-em. I can't recall the last time I did that. When I woke, I felt renewed. I'm still sad, I still wish this wasn't the path we are taking, but...

It's time to get out of bed and start moving. Perhaps, in some tiny way, even moving on.