Yesterday, I was messaging with a reader who has become a sort of modern day pen pal and, more than that, a friend. We chat via Facebook Messenger several times a week, offering each other support as we both struggle with adjusting to life post-abandonment. Yesterday's conversation was centered around the idea of "moving on." This led to a conversation about envisioning our futures, and I'd like to share my thoughts on that.
Anyone who has been abandoned by a spouse has experienced the awful reality that is understanding the future you had planned is no longer an option. The marriage you thought would last forever didn't. The financial stability you depended on from your spouse is gone. All plans and dreams you made for both the immediate and far future are suddenly cancelled. All of this leaves you asking, "What am I supposed to do now?"
Here's what I assumed my future would look like:
Wusband and I would be married until one of us keeled over. We used to joke about him becoming the grumpy old man who yelled at kids to get off his lawn. We made fun of people who sent out family picture Christmas cards every year and pretended that we would start doing this, too, just to prove to the world that we were indeed that one happily married couple who beat the odds. I used to tease him that he would end up looking like his father, shrinking in height yet growing in girth, with an extra-large nose and ears that somehow seemed to grow at a rate exceptionally more quickly than the average human being. I fantasized about growing old with Wusband. I assumed he would always be there to support me, encourage me, and take care of me. After all, he promised all that in his wedding vows, and that is a husband's job, right?
I looked forward to watching all the kids grow up. Because Wusband's kids are teenagers, this was already happening, but I wanted to see where they went to college and what they decided to do for a living when they reached adulthood. Wusband and I used to worry about one of the kid's futures, as he struggled in school and seemed to have an apathy towards anything that involved more work than using a microwave. We argued about approaches to help him and encourage him. I used to fantasize about what all the kids would be they grew up; it was part of my occassional what will life look like in 5, 10, 15, or 20 years imaginings that usually occured while I was driving or taking a shower. Depending on the year and the kids' ages, my ideas as to what they might do with their lives alternated between race car driver, engineer, military pilot, and computer technician. No matter what their current interests were, I was excited to see how they would all turn out. Now, of course, I may never know what happens to Wusband's kids, as he has banned me from seeing or speaking to them.
I used to be grateful that my son had Wusband as a father-figure. His own father is in his life, sometimes only doing the bare minimum as ordered by the court, and sometimes really stepping up to be involved and share wonderful experiences together. In those less-than-stellar-dad times, I was always satisfied that even if his own dad wasn't the greatest, at least he'd have a step-dad who would always be there for him to coach soccer or teach him how to catch a football. I just assumed our blended family would always be together as a family.
I thought our family would continue to grow. We both agreed that we wanted at least one more child. Even though we both have kids from previous marriages, I thought we would have an opportunity to see what kind of human being we could create together. When we had trouble conceiving, we started talking about fostering or adopting. I always assumed there would be at least one more child in our lives. As you know if you've read my earlier posts, we did indeed create a child together, and there will be one more child in my life. But I'm experiencing pregnancy alone and am staring down a future of raising this child alone, too. This is not at all what I imagined.
Wusband and I had many dreams of travelling. We had done a fair bit of travelling over our years together, but we really looked forward to the days when the kids were all out of high school so we could travel further and for longer periods of time. He had promised me trips to foreign countries. I imagined romantic anniversary getaways. Every time we travelled, I felt like we reconnected and returned a more solid couple. I couldn't wait to spend our empty nest years seeing the world and having all these new experiences together.
Along with all this travelling, Wusband and I dreamed of retiring early and having the financial stabilty to not only travel but to just enjoy our freedom from the responsibilities of parenting and working. We had planned to start a side business together that would provide us with the financial freedom we dreamed about. I used to joke that Wusband, who is a bit of a work-a-holic, would never actually retire and would be working from our beach-side cabana while I read a book and soaked up the sun. We had actually begun to investigate the start-up side business shortly before he left.
All of you had similar dreams and plans for the future with your spouses. And all
of that is gone now. It's one of the difficult things you have to face as you recover from the loss of a spouse. In my messages with my reader/pen pal/friend, I suggested that maybe she focus her attention on her future and make some actual plans for herself. What if we all just thought about ourselves for once? Surely, there are places you've always wanted to go, experiences you've always wanted to have, and things you've always wanted to buy. For whatever reason, whether it was money, your spouse's lack of agreement or interest, or your involvement in work or family, you haven't had an opportunity to visit, do, or buy these things or places. So why not do them now?
I think this is good advice for all of us. Why not answer that pesky question of, "What am I supposed to do now?" Here is what I am going to do:
Well, I'm not going to grow old with Wusband. I hope that when our divorce is final that I never have to see, speak to, hear from, or even think about him again. So I probably won't know what type of old man he turns out to be or what his future holds. I'd like to think that I will find someone else to grow old with, but let's be honest, I'm not feeling too optimistic about marriage or trusting men at the moment. So maybe I will be alone. But let's think about that word alone. Will I really be stuck in a nursing home with no visitors? No, of couse not. I will still have family, friends, children, and hopefully grandchildren. And there are a lot of years between now and the nursing home. I plan on spending them giving and receiving as much love as I can. I have previously written about the importance of connecting with new friends and reconnecting with old ones. I am still doing this, and my social life brings me a lot of joy. Maybe I will never have a soul mate, but I will still have a lot of love.
I will still get to watch two kids grow up. I'm hopeful that at some point when this divorce is final and my step-children have a half-sibling in this world, that they will again be a part of my life so they can be a part of the baby's life. So maybe I will get to see how they turn out after all. If nothing else, I plan on reaching out to them both when they graduate from high school and invite them back into our lives. Even if I never see or hear from them again (which does sadden me), I will still have so many chances to be involved with my own kids. And I don't plan on missing or wasting any of them. I will get to teach them how to be gentlemen (or a lady - to be determined), how to treat other people with respect, how to accept failure, and how to make plans to follow their dreams. I will ensure we have the kind of family bond that keeps us close, no matter how old they get, what lifestyles they pursue, or how far away they move.
My family is growing. As soon as this baby arrives, I will be so busy adjusting to his/her presence and helping my son adjust that I probably won't be able to handle much else for a while. I must admit that I am welcoming that distraction, even though I know how difficult it will be to raise a newborn without another parent. But my family doesn't have to stop growing there. I could still foster or adopt in the future if I want to. That dream doesn't have to die just because my marriage did.
I am currently paying a small fortune to be pregnant and have this baby. And I will end up paying a slightly (hopefully) larger fortune to finish this divorce. But once the baby arrives and the divorce is final, my money will be my own. I will be in sole control of my finances. I will be able to make decisions without having to consider any one else's feelings or opinions. There is something tremendously freeing about this idea. I can decide to save money to travel, if I am so inclined. I can decide to buy a new house, remodel a bathroom, or even spend a ridiculous amount of money on something completely frivolous, and no one else gets a say. I plan on taking control of my finances, ensuring there is enough money being set aside for college for the kids, and then planning my own financial future for the kind of life that I want to live.
I will start that side business on my own (again, after my finances are under control post-birth and post-divorce). It might take me longer than I had planned without Wusband's financial contributions, but I am confident that I can do it. Maybe I can still retire early. I can spend my empty nest years visiting the kids and taking my closest friends on luxurious trips accross the country. This is another dream that doesn't have to die with my marriage.
I think that's the point: your dreams don't have to die with your marriage. Consider what you want for you and then plan to make it happen. If nothing else, the planning will be a good distraction to take your mind off of that asshole you've been spending way too much time thinking about. And who knows? You might even end up with an amazing future that is far better than the one you had always planned with your spouse.
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