Two divorce posts back to back! I guess filing the paperwork really did have an impact on me.

While perusing the Huffington Post I came across this article and thought I would share my own.

The moment I knew it was over was when his image came up on a gay hookup app while he was sitting across from me on the couch.

I thought he was hiding something from me when I noticed one Friday night that he put his phone down every time I walked near him, and picked it back up whenever I sat back down and couldn’t see the screen. I texted my friend that night “I think Joe is hiding something from me.”

Fast forward one week to Saturday morning. He was sitting on the side of the bed, not aware that I was already awake. I noticed that he was on an app, but I didn’t know which one. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. He shut his screen off quickly when he realized that I was awake. Once I was up I went to the app store and downloaded the first hookup app that popped up. It was the same one – same colour scheme and same layout as the one I had glanced on his phone earlier that morning. I don’t even think I had to login to find him – the app works by finding users in the same vicinity, and his image and location (5 feet from me) was the first one on the list.

And that was the moment.

I called my father and arranged to meet him. I told him that I needed a divorce. I showed him what I found. We both cried. When I got home I asked Joe whether he was looking for hookups again (note the use of the word “again”) and he immediately said yes. Then he started packing.

I’m going to stop now because I’m honestly feeling physically ill remembering this.



I am not dead.

A leaves in less than two weeks. I have been counting down while trying not to count down and spending as much time with him as possible while I can. I admit that I have been off these past few days – whether it’s the changing weather or the knowledge of his imminent departure I’m not sure. I have a lot of concerns about him leaving, about us when he leaves, and I hate that none of it is within my control. I hate not having control.
A few weeks ago my ex-husband emailed to tell me that he’s leaving for Calgary this coming Sunday and he wanted to know where the paperwork was for the divorce order. Suddenly there was a rush to get the paperwork filed with the court so he could be served before skipping town. I took my ass down there first thing yesterday morning hoping to get it done before work. The line was insanely long even though it was 5 minutes to opening. As I was standing in line I started to feel an overwhelming rage at my ex-husband – as usual, I felt I was the one taking care of everything, making sure things got done. Why wasn’t he the one standing in line missing work when he was the one who had cheated? Not only once, mind you, or with one person, but with numerous people since nearly the beginning of the 12-year relationship. Remembering this made me fume, and I think if he had walked in the door at the moment I was standing in that line I very well may have killed him.
It seems like such a trivial thing, yes, so what if I had to stand in line and miss work? I wasn’t expecting to even have any reaction – though I suppose my lack of emotion over the breakup was coming back to bite me in the ass. Once the dust had settled after he moved out I moved on fairly quickly. I know he didn’t understand that and as a result it caused him great anger when he found out that I was sleeping with Mr. Spice so soon after the separation.
Aside: Nobody told him. He used his key to get into the apartment when dropping the dogs off after one of his weekends (yes, he had weekends with the dogs, just like kids), and I wasn’t home yet. Instead of dropping the dogs off and leaving he started snooping and ended up in the bedroom, on my iPad, and saw a picture of Mr. Spice in full undress. 
Clearly I haven’t fully processed the whole separation thing for me to get that irrationally angry over being a few minutes late to work and I’m sure I’ll have more moments as the process unfolds. At least now I know to expect it still.

Our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up

Mr. Dreads made a comment to me over the weekend that he doesn’t understand my hostility towards my ex-husband. That I seem to give Mr. Spice more breaks than most confident and self-assured women would. That I shouldn’t be upset that my ex-husband chose to sleep with men because it doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with me – just that there was something he wanted/needed that I couldn’t give him (in this case, a penis).

I’ve been thinking about the following:

I am not hostile towards my ex. I make comments sometimes that may come off as hostile, but I don’t actually feel hatred or hostility towards him. I’m not even angry with him. I hope that he meets someone with whom he is happy with and compatible with and who can accept him for who and what he is. I only wish the best for him.

lyrics: Wake Up, The Arcade Fire

I miss my ex sometimes. Not always, not even often, but sometimes. I have been lucky I guess in that there have been people around me to fill the “hole” left when he departed my life – for 12 years he was my best friend and confidante and that was one of the hardest things to grieve over once the dust had settled. To say my world was shattered feels like an understatement. There were days when I didn’t want to get out of bed and face this new life with this giant gaping hole in my heart. If it wasn’t for my dogs needing to be let out and fed and taken care of there are days when I probably wouldn’t have left my bed.

Do I seem to have recovered? I guess so. I feel ok for the most part. I no longer feel like my life is broken. My heart feels better, if not harder than before. I sometimes wonder whether I acted too quickly and made a mistake in breaking up our marriage.

Then I remember the part that I’m not usually open to explain. The disgust and discomfort every time I thought of him with a man. Knowing what I know about what he did, the sex in public places, the BDSM aspect, the daddy games, his complete emasculation – it made me lose a lot of respect for him as a man. That turned out to be the deal-breaker for me. I simply couldn’t look at him the same way. He was no longer the wonderful husband and friend (and yes, aside from this he was a wonderful husband and friend) but a sexual deviant who disgusted me with his actions.

Maybe that’s harsh, but it’s the truth.

It may not make sense, but I probably would have been more forgiving had his actions been with women. I know men cheat – I actually don’t expect a man to be 100% faithful so it’s not a matter of the adultery itself, but the details and the nature of the adultery that I couldn’t get past.

As an aside:I am not disgusted by gay men, nor am I homophobic. I am not even disturbed by the fact that he sought out men, only disturbed by the nature of his interactions with men.


Canada Day was never the same

It was after 8pm. The phone rang. From the other room I could hear him pick up, say “hello,” and then a long silence.

I paused the movie I was watching and went into the bedroom. He was sitting on the bed with his head in his hands, the phone still at his ear, saying “what? what do you mean?”

Mo was dead.

She had died in a head-on collision the day before, July 1, 2010. The death was instantaneous – the driver's seat of the car she was in with 3 others flew back upon impact and crushed her core.

She had been heading back from miltary training, was on her way to meet her long-time partner at the hotel. He was waiting – she never showed up.

It was a terrible night. There was alcohol, there were tears, there was shock and sadness and grief and regret and guilt. We had all lost touch to some degree. Although we still spoke sporadically the relationships had become diluted with time and distance.

The next few days were mostly just sad. Life continued on, as it does, but with a cloud of grief. An informal get together of Mo's friends, all of us sitting around a table, in shock, telling stories of times spent with her.

Then the funeral. All of us together for this incredibly sad day. I remember wishing that a happy event could have been the catalyst to bring us all together again. Not the death of a friend, this wasn't supposed to happen so soon. Despite my grief, the moment when I saw her partner unable to stand, so consumed with grief, my heart shattered for him.

Mo's death became a reminder that life is fleeting and friendships are important. It was a reminder that every once in awhile, despite time and distance, it's important to tell those you care about that you love them. That even if you have grown apart you still think about them, will be there for them.

– image: trekearth.com



Change in the House of Blues

The below was written in 2006 after returning from a business trip to Chicago. This was a pivotal time in my relationship with my ex-husband – it was the first time I found out about his extracurricular activities. Shortly after I returned to Toronto we broke up for 6 months.

I didn’t notice him at first, not until he started talking. It was hard to hear him over the noise of the Stones cover band. He introduced himself and I did the same, all the while keeping my distance. It was not the first time that night I had been approached, but there was something different about this man. Despite the fact it was in industry-only party, he was the only one in a sea of hundreds who was wearing a suit. He explained that he had come straight from work, that he was a lawyer specializing in intellectual property. He pointed to the left, told me his client was in the private box next to ours, and had asked him to join the party earlier that afternoon. After a few minutes of attempted conversation in the noise he left me, and I continued to get lost in the anxiety I felt and the turmoil that my life had become. Being away from home had only made things worse, and the only thing I wanted at that moment was to be on the first plane home to Toronto, somehow thinking that if I was there I could somehow fix everything and be happy again.

But then my Chicago stranger came back and in a few short minutes everything changed. Nothing prophetic was said, no light shone down from above, the earth did not quake beneath me (from anything other than the people dancing around us), but I left the House of Blues that night feeling like somehow the turmoil would fix itself and all I had to do was exist as best I could.

We kept in contact once I was back home and when the chaos in my life had settled and things had finally been confronted and put to bed, I was able to tell him thank you for approaching me that night. While never his intention, he managed to change something, somehow, and I’m better because of it.

I received a christmas card this year from him. It came late but stood apart from the rest for a different reason. The impact that was made on me that night when I felt everything was going to be alright has stayed with me long past my departure from Chicago. I will keep his card as a reminder of things I’m not even sure I am able to accurately and justifiably express in words.

– image: imradio.com



I never never NEVER thought that at 28 I would be married AND separated.

Especially not from my high school sweetheart.

And yes, we were high school sweethearts. We met in 10th grade, started dating in 12th grade, and dated for 10 years before getting married.

We were married just under 2 years before we separated.

We lived together, we had dogs together, we had seen each other through many, many things – job losses, health conditions, mental health issues, infidelity, trust issues…

Unfortunately those last few things never fully resolved themselves and ended up being the catalyst for our separation.

Please understand, my ex is a good man. He was a great husband (the below aside). He was my best friend.

But we had issues that we didn’t adequately address, the biggest one being we were sexually incompatible. As a result, he was unfaithful. Now I’m not letting him off the hook for the infidelity, but sex was always so important to him and was the only thing we ever really fought about.

I just couldn’t give him what he wanted / needed. I was never able to, though believe me I tried. I just reached a point though where I realized…..what he wanted wasn’t in me to give him. It just wasn’t me.

The thing is, when I found out again that he had been doing things he shouldn’t have been doing I felt so stupid. We had been down that road before. In fact, 6 years prior we had separated for 6 months because of it. I found out then that he had been unfaithful through most of the beginning of our relationship. I don’t know why I thought, when we reconciled, that it would be any different.

Oh, I’m sure it was different for awhile. Maybe even for a year or two.

I should have known that it wouldn’t last.