I got married young; I was only 21. Ex and I met when I was 16 and started dating
soon after. I’d had a couple of
boyfriends before, but nothing really serious or long term. Ex was my first in many ways. I was in a serious rush to grow up once I
graduated from high school. I attended a
year of community college then my best friend and I decided to move out on our
own. I had no pressing reason to leave
my parental home, but I knew I’d be getting married soon and I wanted to
experience living on my own before I had a husband.
Ex felt no such thing.
He continued to live with his parents and as our wedding day neared I
pressed him to look for a rental with me but he convinced me to move with him
into his parents’ house. I wish I’d
resisted, or decided to wait. I wish
when the wedding day grew close and my mom said “I know we’ve spent a lot of
money on this but if you don’t want to go through with it you don’t have to”
that I’d listened. I might wish the
marriage away, but I don’t wish our kids away, so I can’t really say that I
regret it all. I just regret rushing out
of my childhood so quickly.
My Ex decided he wasn’t ready to leave his childhood
behind. For the first five years of our
marriage he continued to work when he felt like it (he worked for his dad) go
fishing when he wanted, hang with his friends when he wanted and smoke pot
whenever he felt the urge. He thought
nothing of disappearing overnight without calling and letting me know where he
was. This was, of course, in the days
before cell phones so I had no way of finding him, short of calling all of his
friends until I got a hit.
He never did figure out how to choose appropriate clothes
for any occasion that might demand more than a T-shirt and shorts. Just last summer our family had tickets to
see “Book of Mormon” at the Paramount Theater in Seattle. He dressed in Scooby Doo pajama bottoms with
a button up shirt. When we were first
married I had no problem choosing his clothes for him, but once we had three
kids I was overwhelmed choosing clothes for them as well as myself. I wanted him to be adult enough to dress himself.
About 8 years ago I bought a set of hair clippers and
started shearing both my ex and my son.
It saved money and was relatively quick.
Three years ago I developed fibromyalgia and it struck my hands
first. They hurt so bad that holding a
pen was painful. I told my Ex that I
could no longer cut his hair because it was too painful. I found out later he was telling all of his
friends that I wouldn’t allow anyone else to touch his hair. I have no idea why he’d tell anyone
that. Instead of paying someone to cut
his hair, he just let it grow. Finally
one of the people who interviewed him for a job suggested he might want to get
his hair cut. So he cut it himself and
it looked like it.
Three years ago he had a pulmonary embolism. He went to his doctor and was told he needed
to go to the emergency room immediately.
Instead of heading straight there he called me and asked me what I
thought he should do. Duh! Go to the emergency room! On another occasion he was complaining that
he didn’t feel well and I told him to see his doctor. He responded “I just want you to be my
doctor.” I explained that I had no medical
training and WebMD has limits.
When both my son and my husband were equally clueless about
creating a resume and sending it out I realized I was willing to help my son
since he was young and this was new. I
was tired of helping my ex, he was 50 and I wanted him to stand on his own two
feet. I realized I could see the end of
the journey with my kids. Soon they’d be
launched and I’d (hopefully) be done.
There was no end in sight for my ex…he was going to be my eternal child
and I’d never be able to launch him.
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