January 30

     When He left New Year's eve, he had gone to our friend's house. At the time, I didn't know that.  Over time, my friend's husband has told me what He has said.  I hadn't known he was was monitoring my cell phone calls.  He took the bills and actually went through each call to see who I was speaking with.  I had never even looked at one of my bills.  When a friend was over, I took out a bill. Yikes, it was pages long. That must have taken a way long time.  Apparently, He even figured out the amount of time I spent talking to individual friends.  That's just bazaar.  I'm not that interesting.  I hadn't been to yoga in a month, so when I showed up, my teacher had an odd look on his face.  He asked to speak with me after. Hmm.  After the room cleared, he said he apologized for not calling but he wasn't sure how to handle it.  He had received a wild call ... from my husband.  Oh god, here we go.  I had never even remembered speaking with my yoga teacher by phone, then I remembered it had to do with books I was interested in getting that he discussed in class.  Ahhh.  The poor guy.  I must say, luckily in his previous pre-yoga life, he obviously knew quite a lot and handled my husband quite well.  He actually mentioned to him that whatever conversations between us were private, and besides that,  he should know as a lawyer that DC was a no-fault divorce state and tracking down my comings and going was pointless.  My yoga teacher said he actually calmed him on the phone.  He asked if we had children, and got him talking.  He actually found through his conversation that there were no minor children involved.  This guy is good.  Finding that out, he told my husband that making these phone calls was probably not a wise decision. And he hung up.  I am continually amazed by the strength and support of people who are new in my life.  He hugged me and said how sorry he was for what I was going through -- and told me to keep coming to yoga ...

January 29

     His brother tells me to make sure I get all my ducks in a row before He gets out.  That I need to get as much done as I can while it's quiet, while He's still in there.  I get off the phone and then it hits me.  What the fuck is his brother talking about?  What does he know that's going on, what has He told his family, that I don't know.  And what ducks ... and where are these ducks?  I haven't spoken to Him in a month, He hasn't spoken to me or His children during any of this.  His siblings are once again His family; His children have become just a past memory.  I asked my son if it was weird that he hadn't spoken to his father in such a long time. He said "No, not really."  There was nothing I could say.  I don't know if he'll ever be their father again.  But the three of us, as my daughter reminds me, we're a family and we'll be just fine.  I'm tired of hiding out in my house.  Afraid to answer questions, trying desperately to protect my kids.  First I tried to keep our divorce from taking place until after my son graduated.  Now, I'm just trying to cover up what has happened to him so my kids won't have to deal with such painful and awkward questions. When asked, I keep it short.  He moved out and we're getting a divorce.  Any other personal questions I quickly deflect, and constantly I hold my breathe hoping nobody tries to contact him.  His office cut off his cell phone and computer service.  It's impossible to get in touch with Him unless He has made contact.  I was putting together my son's photographic senior page for his high school yearbook.  I was looking through old family pictures of a much different time, and there were pictures of Him and me and all of us.  And the most surprising thing was, instead of feeling angry, or sad, or hopeless, I just felt, well, nothing ...  

January 26

     I am no longer invisible.  I am so far from where I thought I would be, my journey so derailed, my head spins.  Somehow, I know, I will get there, get back on track.  But I certainly have had the air knocked out of me.  Sometimes I can't even breathe; no time for a break or chance of feeling centered.  I haven't spoken to Him in weeks.  I just hope he gets it back together.  And somehow, back in contact with his kids, my kids.  As for me, I made it clear weeks ago He may never come back to this house. I just need Him well so I can get out. Move on.  I don't want to be angry,  it's just not me.  I just don't want any of it ever again .  But I don't want my kids hurt any more.  His second night in the hospital he calls and asks me to come.  I race across town, sign in, call up, and am put on hold for 15 minutes.  The nurse finally comes back on the phone and says He's changed his mind, I can't come up, he doesn't want to see me.  "But he called me and asked me to come," I begin to cry.  "It's His call, and He doesn't want to see you." Click.  I leave the lobby sobbing. He's so mean and I am exhausted.  I sit on a short stone wall outside the hospital to call a doctor friend of mine to tell her what's happening, and I light a cigarette.  A homeless-looking man comes up and asks for a smoke; generally I do give money when asked by obviously needy people on the street.  However, on this particular night, sobbing in the freezing cold outside the fucking hospital, trying to explain what happened to my friend, I was just too cold and distracted to dig through my purse to find the man a cigarette, so I shook my head no.  "What was that noise?"  my friend screams into the phone.  To my shock, the man had assaulted me with a handful of pennies for refusing his cigarette request. And there, on that wall talking to my friend, as pennies are thrown at me by a homeless man, we really started laughing ...  when it rains it pours -- and sometimes it pours pennies.  What defines us is how well we rise after falling.  At least that is what I keep telling my daughter, although right now, it's really a hard one to sell... 

January 25

     It was Christmas eve and I was sitting out back by our pool. It was freezing and late, and all I could think about was if Santa could come by soon, I would catch a ride the hell out.  But I looked up, the lights in my kids rooms were still on, and I knew that even if that fucking sleigh did come, I wouldn't be able to leave. Not them. So I lit another cigarette, and thought what a miserable holiday this had been.  His moods were spinning wildly, and he was accusing me of more and more weird things.  Stealing His clothes. His credit card. His cell phone.  Hiding files -- eventually of slashing his car tire. All of which were accounted for, car tire never slashed after inspection by mutual friends.  But the look in His eyes was so scary, I almost didn't recognize Him.  And while he had become meaner in the past few years, pointedly so to my daughter and I, the past few weeks had been unbearable.  I had no idea that by early Christmas morning, I would wake up to a screaming match between he and my daughter.  He just couldn't control himself -- waking up by 5:00 am and making so much noise the entire house would be jolted upright.  It was intolerable. Impossible to understand. But eventually it got to the point where I just didn't care, I just wanted Him to leave.  Our feelings were so continually crushed, my nerves shot, I just wanted Him to go...

January 24

     I'm not sure how I got to where I am. It didn't quite work out the way I thought.  So I suppose I'll have to work backwards. To catch myself up. Yes, He moved out. New Year's Eve. But somehow, today, he is an a psychiatric hospital, via two stops at two other hospitals. One a non-voluntary psychiatric ward of the DC system. Wasn't the greatest of holidays.  His office took him to the first after he showed up for work. I tried everything to keep that from happening. But as his paranoia was about me, and I had no idea where he was, I ended up getting a call one night from his co-worker that they were there. And the roller coaster begins...