He would arrive at 10pm Friday nights and leave on Sunday morning. We co-existed in the same house and even went to Disneyland together for my daughters’ birthday. Being at the Happiest Place on Earth didn’t even make me happy. I was living a pretend life and needed to make changes. How long could I keep doing this? I knew the answer: not long.
The weekend routine sucked- there is no way to sugar coat it. I felt like I “needed” to stay there. He was drinking a lot to deal with the issues at hand and I had never been away from my daughters. I felt stuck. I didn’t want to be in the same house with him yet I didn’t know what to do.
One Friday night, I had just finished a three-day medical procedure which left me very ill. Under the covers with the chills, a horrible headache and zero energy. I was actually happy that he would be arriving to “take over” with the children as my youngest daughter had a double ear infection. I heard him come home and an hour later, I heard the sliding glass door open and shut. I heard his truck start and I heard him drive away.
I stayed up most of the night with my little girl and her fever. Tears streaming down my cheeks. I knew I couldn’t live with the drinking anymore– or the lies. I couldn’t live the lie that we were living. I was done. He never came home that night. The next morning, he didn’t show up to take the girls to their gymnastics class. He was hungover and admitted that he has stayed with a “divorcee” the night before.
I was angry. I was angry that he had the luxury of “choosing” when to be around with no regard for me or my daughters. I was angry at the lack of caring and selfishness. I was angry with the drinking to “cope” with problems and the lack of consideration. That night ended our weekend “arrangement” and I knew that I needed to start the process of a less toxic living arrangement. I wanted him to be responsible. I wanted him to be a dad. He had never owned that role. I wanted him to WANT to be a dad to these amazing little girls.