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A Visit from Old Ghosts
2010-02-12 - 8:20 a.m.

Feeling: exasperated
Listening to: Hulu
Reading/Watching: Fringe, season 2

My ex-husband chose to show up at my house in the middle of the night Monday morning, and leave a note on my windshield.

Didn't call, didn't e-mail, but came all the way to my home. Yippee.

Of course I panicked, and called my lawyer, and all sorts of other Kermit-flail-type gyrations. I spent the day trying to come up with a plan, wondering if I needed to move or stay with a friend, if the whole thing was happening again with the midnight visits and the stealing and the phone calls...

And then I took a breath, and re-read the note. While it's delusional, talking about getting back together, and what he would demand from me in order to trust me again, it also says he doesn't want to see me or hear from me until I'm ready to commit anew to a true, loving marriage. I called him on Thanksgiving, just to see if he was okay, because I knew the holiday would be even harder for him than it was for me. He didn't answer his phone or call back, and now, three months later, he's responding as if I'd begged him to take me back. And he's saying he wants nothing to do with me unless I can re-commit and forever give up The Other Man (who he apparently thinks I'm still seeing).

It doesn't promise more visits. It doesn't make any more threats. And while I have been warning my family and friends to let me know if he tries to contact them, I'm hoping this will be an isolated thing, and not a sign that he's been driving over to my home on a regular basis (shudder). He's ridiculous and deluded, but not dangerous.

I don't want to give him that power, to keep me panicking. I don't want to let him send me to that airless place of anger and helplessness. So I won't*.

..although needless to say, I will not be renewing my lease.

*We have signed all papers, I have obtained my decree, I have filed for new IDs and name changes; we are fully and completely severed now. I am going to enjoy it, instead of looking back.

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