Fuck You Cowboy, And The Car You Drove Here

25/04/24

Today was hair appointment day, and as has happened since he left, EH agreed to drive me there.

Now, before I go any further I feel it’s important to say that even while we were making the arrangements for him to pick me up, I’d quietly decided this would be the last time I asked him for a lift.

My intention was to consciously do the ‘last time’ thing, and internally say goodbye to this part of our relationship, but not to actually verbalise anything to him.

SNIP, SNIP – cutting those cords.

He got here a bit early so I invited him in and offered him a coffee.

From the moment I opened the door he was commenting on changes I’ve made: that’s a nice door number sign; oh I like that thing in the garden; the coat rack’s funky….

He was like robocop scanning his surroundings.

Now, it might have been nice hearing him notice and appreciate the improvements I’ve been making to house and garden. I’d been waiting for that level of engagement for a decade or more.

Except EH was behaving as if he’d never seen of these things before.

He had.

They’d been bought months and months before he left.

I’d asked him to put them up.

They’d sat in boxes thereafter.

At this point, I was a little irritated, but from my ‘letting go’ space was able to squash the rising annoyance by making some slightly passive aggressive jokes.

The scan and comment continued until he said, “Those advertising signs are cool where did you get them?“

He with me when I found them. He apparently helped choose them. He bloody well went 50/50 with me paying for them!

It was a slap in the face realisation, seeing just how little attention he’d been paying to me, and us, and for how damned long.

A huge, “Fuck you” rose within me and I found myself saying things I’ve been thinking, but hadn’t intended to say aloud to him.

I asked him if he remembered me telling him I begrudgingly admired his courage in leaving our shit marriage.

Without waiting for an answer I then told him I now wanted to thank him for freeing me. All the time I was lonely with him I couldn’t do anything about it. Now I could.

Again without waiting for any response, I continued.

I told him I wanted to retract the objections I’d previously made when he’d described his treatment of me as abusive.

It was abusive, he’d known it and had continued to do it.

Shame on him.

As I turned to take my cup into the kitchen, he jumped up from the sofa, slammed his coffee down and yelled, “I didn’t come here for this. I’m going!“

Before he reached the front door I stopped him, waving my empty ring finger in his face.

I told him I’m done, but that if he wants a divorce, he can pay for it. I’ve put more than enough of my resources into this bullshit already.

He pushed past me, muttering something about not needing this shit, and got into his nasty new white car, which was parked in the driveway.

I was about to slam the front door, but as I turned my eye fell on his abandoned cup of coffee.

I grabbed it, charged out of the front door and hurled it all over his car, telling him to get the fuck off my driveway.

To be absolutely clear, I threw the coffee, not the cup.

Then I came in the house, slamming the door behind me.

I sat there, trembling head to toe from the adrenaline, but not upset or crying – kinda high, elated.

I rang Lena for a quick debrief before I called a taxi to get to my hair appointment.

I knew my behaviour hadn’t been particularly edifying, but I didn’t really regret it. I still don’t, despite looking like a fishwife in front of the neighbours. I did, however, want an outside opinion on whether I should be regretting it.

Lena very much endorsed my weird elated feelings. There was delight that I’d finally accessed my anger towards him, whilst also acknowledging that maybe I could have omitted throwing the coffee. But hey….

The texts from EH started arriving as I was waiting for my taxi.

The first was a basic “No need for that“.

I indicated I had no regrets. He did the standard ‘you’re mad‘ stuff.

There was some to-ing and fro-ing as I articulated my feelings around how he’s behaved with the grandkids and my wider family.

Then, out of nowhere, his tone seemed to change.

His initial anger was replaced by a sense of regret for past behaviour. Just a hint of the flavour, not an absolute, taking ownership apology. Don’t be silly.

This eventually becoming an outright, “I might have fucked up“.

I wanted to send a sarcastic “D’ya think?” type of response. Instead I chose to try to practice being a bit more grown up, so ignored that particular text.

All in all we messaged back and forth for several hours.

From his perspective we’ve left things on reasonably friendly terms.

I suppose, on the surface, we have.

From my perspective I’ve experienced another big forward lurch in detaching from him and our marriage.

Accessing the rage at him, rather than anger at the situation, or at myself, has been extremely cathartic. A huge bunch of cords got cut.

I was worried that when the adrenaline flood died back, I’d slump emotionally. Not so far. No stress nausea, nothing. I’ve had a proper dinner without puking (smoked haddock and vegetable rice, for the record).

By permitting myself to acknowledge the reality of who and what he is, by expressing my justified anger at how he’s negatively impacted me, it felt like I took back some control.

I took back a little bit of self-worth.

I cut some more cords and took another step towards true independence.

I do wonder if I subconsciously allowed myself to be pushed into having a meltdown. Did I actually want to do this, despite my earlier declared plan to quietly and non-dramatically cease to take lifts from him?

I’ll definitely not be getting lifts from him anymore, so that part of the objective has been achieved. In this instance, I’m not sure the ‘how’ particularly matters.

Expressing my anger like that, even though it was a bit teenager-ish and out of control, feels like it’s moved a blockage.

I feel stronger, more full of resolve and somehow, cleaner.

Maybe it doesn’t apply to every aspect of today, but overall, I’m really proud of myself.

This ain’t a fucking ending – it’s a damned evolution.

I’m doing it. Sticking to The Vow.

JP