With a familiar chime, an incoming text was announced. Careful not to disturb the teenaged occupants of my room, I reached for the phone charging on the night stand. At 7:13pm, one glance confirmed the sender to be Dolus who after eleven hours of travel conveyed a singular, hollow message, "Here." Only, "Here." Not even a, "How are the kids holding up? Please tell them that I love them so very much." Just, "Here."
Approximately 7 years ago, before I began working with a therapist, the speed at which I was loosing myself to absurdity increased exponentially. It seemed that I was being told I was crazy in a rather orchestrated manner. I began to think I was crazy. Was I crazy? I couldn’t be. I just couldn’t be.
Dolus left our rather tidy beige garage for the last time shortly after 8:30am on Sunday, February 14, 2021. He drove away to officially begin his new life of marital separation in his recently acquired, black, 1990’s era Japanese sedan. Importantly, the official story was that Dolus was relocating in response to his organization’s requirement that he transition from remote to onsite work. His physical presence was needed to fulfill the tasks of his recently acquired, high profile position. According to Dolus, they would no longer extend the courtesy of working from home. His parting became an intentionally and agonizingly drawn-out…
Of course he would officially exit my life on Valentine's Day. It was his mother’s birthday! Given what I'd always felt was an enmeshed relationship between my soon to be former husband and his mother, it seemed I was being treated to their thoroughly rehearsed and vengefully petty theatrics. It was an understatement to say that my increasingly confident non-compliance and so-called disrespect, along with my audacious and unauthorized reconnection with my family after ten years of self-inflicted (an oddly encouraged) estrangement, had placed a target on my back.
