Admitting When You've Been Outsmarted...

This blog is going to be real and raw. Maybe its always been, either way I have some emotions to purge and its time I just get it over with.

I'm fighting tears right now. My heart is aching, my spirit is broken, I am emotionally wounded. So, as I am typing this blog, I have a box of tissues, and "I'm so over you n*gga" music playing in the background. Its an arsenal of "feel better" with a dose of "get over him". How did I get here?

I'll tell you how: Hechts Department store. It all started ten years ago in March in the parking lot of Prince Georges Plaza Mall. I was leaving my shift at the department store clad in a calf length denim skirt, camel colored calf length boots, a brown shirt, a tan peacoat, a foxy brown afro and "oh baby" Mac lip gloss that had my lips popping. A car pulled up, the driver asked me my name, told me he was from Cali, I was from NY...and ten years later I have birthed two of his children, gained about 40+ pounds and lost half of my heart.

I keep wondering where I went wrong but the more and more I think of it the more I realize I lost my mind at "hello". If I could rewind time I would have kept my stride and dropped the deuces on that fool. Instead I wed him and gave him a decade of my life forever sealed by the children we share with one another.

What ended the relationship wasn't his infidelity, or his laziness, or his inability to lead or support his family. What ended the relationship was ME. I told him to leave and I served up the papers like a hot grits on a Southern table. So why I am so glum? Why am I not moving on with my life? Why do I feel like I got hit by a truck and just about every piece of me is all over the road? I suppose its because what happened to me is quite similar to getting hit by a truck and having every piece of you on the side of the road.

Where is he now? Well he is living his life, not contributing a dime toward the welfare of our children, seeing them two days out of each month and with a girlfriend that now does all that I ceased to do when I ended our relationship. Aside from his balding hair line he looks better than he did when we met having gained a few pounds to fill out his once scrawny frame (thanks to my cooking!).
I on the other hand am busting my hump to take care of my life which at this particular point are my children. The two have now become synonymous and while I willfully accept my responsibilities as a mother I resent his absence as a father. I resent that his children are an afterthought. I resent that in an odd and ironic way he still expects me to do his job even after I am seeking legal freedom from our union. We are not a team and still I find myself living this MJesque lifestyle of running the ball, shooting the ball and winning the game all the time without the endorsement money or at least a legacy of footwear to acknowledge my efforts. I suppose seeing my girls smile, play, clothed and educated will be my pay off. Honestly, thats more than enough. I just don't like being a team of one when I don't have to be.

Seeing my ex husband exploit his new girlfriend by having her purchase him a car (like I did), pay his bills (like I did) and comment on his love making (well of course I am familiar with that) is hard. I don't want him, but I still love him and being privy to such things is just hurtful. Its hurtful because what I once thought was exclusive to us is common to many. He expects all women to serve the same purpose. Had I not been a generous tool he would have never kept me around. All the while I thought there was something special about me to him. I feel foolish.

So I sit here, with tears welling on the brims of my eyelids and I feel like an idiot. I was used. That is the summary of it all. I was outsmarted. My body is distorted from childbearing, my trust in relationships is void. I am fearful to trust my judgment due to the huge mistake I decided to prolong for a decade. I am broken in many ways. Though I do press on, I am in pain. The reality of what actually happened has finally hit me and I'd be lying if I said the pain of it didn't sting.