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I really am okay, most of the time.

I am in my own place now, where he can't get to me, where he can't stop by and just come on in or "visit" while I'm at work and help himself to any belongings. I have set things in motion with lawyers, even if he is making counter-claims and doubling the cost of everything. I am almost out. I can see the other side from here.

I'm just ready to get to that other side.

I hate change, and usually fight like hell to keep it from happening, but once it's happening, it's happening. I get it done, I move on. And now the change is happening, and I've accepted that, but there are wooden shoes in the workings, halting all progress until they can be wriggled back out.

My mother pointed out that hey, I've got everything I need. There is no reason to be fixated on it, right? I have a home, I have a job, I have friends, and I have my entire future ahead of me. He can't stop me from doing whatever the hell I want to do. Except my life can't really, really start yet. I am stuck in a holding pattern, because the change still hasn't happened.

I have all these ideas, all these plans for what I want to do after. And yes, some of that involves going out and meeting people of the male persuasion and having a good time without the yoke of being a married or mostly-married woman. Some of that involves enjoying being single, instead of having my facebook account reflect my relationship status as "It's complicated." Yes, I want to fucking date. So sue me. Call me a whore. Whatever.

Some of it involves travel, and getting new things for my home, possibly indulging a little bit now that I am accountable to no one but me. Except I don't know how expensive this divorce is going to get, with him swinging back and forth between insisting he can't live without me and insisting that I'm entirely responsible for the marriage ending and should therefore pay for it (my answer is okay, fine, but will money make you feel any better or just make you feel good about punishing me?).

So I can't really reserve that ticket to New York, I can't really buy that nice new mattress (sleeping on the futon is not working for me), I can't really relax and pay off my car, because I have no idea when I'm going to need the money in that bank account to buy off my "husband" into leaving me the fuck alone.

Some of that involves the very simple act of getting a new driver's license that says my name is Green again. I want my name back. It's a stupid, symbolic thing, but I want it. And I can't have it until this clingy, desperate, bipolar, medicated, delusional man admits that it's my right to take it back.

So here I am, all fine and normal and smiling (and sometimes faking it), and waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know it's not over until he signs those papers. And as long as his money holds out, he can drag his feet as much as he fucking wants, and I'll be dragged right along with him.

We have no children. We have no assets. My car is still legally in my father's name. I don't even have that much in savings (especially not anymore). There is nothing material he wants from me. He just wants me. He wants me to "snap out of it" and love him again, like a rewind button (or an alter-reality button, since I'm no longer sure I ever loved him in the way I needed to, in order for a marriage to work). He wants to pretend it never happened, and just go back to the way we were, when I was smiling and happy and he could live in peace with his dogs, his pixel-world, and his steady supply of marital benefits whenever he turned the switch.

In short, he wants the impossible. I can't give it to him. So we're in stasis.

This morning I woke up and it was the first time I really, genuinely wasn't sure I could get out of bed. I wanted to call in to work (even though I only have 1.5 days left for the rest of the year), pull the covers over my head, and cry until I completely dehydrated. Because I can see the world outside, but the bars are still in place. I can reach through and open my hands, pray for a smidgen here and there, but I am still not free. It's a maddening way to be.

On a completely unrelated note, Puppy got married last weekend. It was my first time seeing the extended family, first major social gathering, first wedding since... things fell apart. Their first time seeing me without the ring on. My first time looking around the room and wondering how many of them he called to complain about me, wondering if they're not speaking up simply because they are too prudent to mention it at a wedding. It was easier than I expected, but so much harder, too.

I watched my baby brother promise to love his wife for the rest of his life, and I cried at how amazingly beautiful it was, and then a selfish part of me cried for other reasons. I am so happy for him, and I pray that my ridiculous drama did not in any way detract from his day, because I tried not to let that happen. I didn't get up to make a toast because there just wasn't a right time (plus our older brother kinda covered it), but if I had, this is what I would have said:

"My little brother grew up in a household that taught him a lot of things. He grew up in a family surrounded by strong, intelligent women, and because of that he learned how to respect them. He learned how to honor them, and how to recognize their crazy mood swings (and how to avoid them in those moments). He also learned things like humor, humility, and even claustrophobia (thanks to being locked in rabbit cages, trunks, and the occasional hall closet).

But then he went off to college, and every time I saw him he was a little different, and at first it made me unhappy, because he was changing, learning without me. Then I realized all the changes were good. He became more confident, more capable, more wise and compassionate, and I was in awe of how he transformed into this man I could barely believe I was related to. And I realized that a big part of it was due to what he was learning from the new people in his life, namely his new wife. I am grateful to her for that, and I hope that the two of you spend the rest of your lives learning from each other and growing together in this beautiful partnership."

Yeah, I lost the courage to say that. But I hope he likes it now.

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