It's such a complicated society!

I don’t know if it’s our human nature or our society, but I find our tendency to complicate all matters very disturbing. I know it might sound a bit ironic and contradicting coming from someone like me who over thinks everything, especially with how long this post is expected to drag!

So here is where this is coming from…

I went out with my x last weekend, along with the kids; like a hallmark happy family and shit.

So this is how it was like…

Surroundings:

Thursday Evening – After I got off work, I picked the kids up from their nursery and met him at Carrefour Maadi, where the kids knocked themselves out in the kids playing area after getting more than their fair share of toys!

Friday – He picked us up from my parents’ after prayers and we spent the day at the club where the boys behaved like they’ve never seen sand in their entire lives!

The impact on the kids:

My Beem was glowing with happiness being around his daddy. He was so proud of the little toys he got and kept saying “babaya gabhomly”, he kept going on and on about how he loves his “baba M”. He behaved his best to impress his daddy and he told him “ana ba7ebak ya baba M” all of a sudden as they were sitting next to one another (of course the x had a bag full of toys next to him, but my Beem is unconditionally sweet when he feels like it nonetheless).

The next day at the club, Beem was happy showing off his scooter-riding skills. Surprisingly, my very cautious and rather easily scared Beem jumped from what would normally be a scary height to impress his daddy after his daddy taught him how to climb those monkey bars. I almost screamed myself; luckily the sand made his fall less painful than it would have been otherwise, and my Beem landed on his feet rather than his knees. *me so proud*

Mocha was rather calm and peaceful. It was his first time to interact with his dad. We’ve been separated less than a month after he was born and he refers to my father as “baba”. So I kept referring to my x as “baba” so that Mocha would pick up on it. He didn’t talk to him at all, but whenever I asked him to give something to baba, he obeyed smilingly.

The impact on me:

Strangely enough, I didn’t burn with jealousy when my son said he loved his daddy; in fact, I was proud that all the negative feelings I have for his dad did not get through, I was glad he didn’t pick on it. Alhamdulilah.

I cannot deny I felt some peace watching my sons having fun and running around happily. I sensed Beem’s sense of security every time he called for his dad, and I secretly kept hoping his father would live up to the father’s role in my sons’ life and that he would bond and make up for them for the past two years.

Generally, it was not straining for me. I was neutral; I was not angry or resentful, neither was I all sunshine and rainbow. I remained silent most of the ride and I barely had much to say unless it was about the kids; otherwise, whenever he tried to start small talk or befriend me, I pretended not to hear him and justified it by being tired and sleepy. My way of politely telling him that I didn’t want to talk.

I think he noticed how I quietly looked away whenever he tried to make eye contact. I think he also noticed I looked the other way whenever any of the past events were mentioned one way or the other; either by passing by a place that holds too many bad memories, or by him mistakenly mentioning something that has the wrong connotation. I still felt sick having to remember any of it.

I didn’t like how he kept asking if I was happy. I didn’t like how he tried to overdo the whole gentleman act either. Nonetheless, I did appreciate how we didn't have any physical contact and how he didn’t try to find excuses to make any. At least until he waited outside the door then held on to my hand for a while after the handshake was over. I never liked it when guys did that; it’s cheesy. I looked him in the eye as I pulled my hand a bit aggressively. I hope he got the message.

NOW

My mom is getting her hopes up that’s we’d be back. My sisters seem to have their own suspicions of his intentions and wondering how his next screw up would be like, I kinda have my own concerns as well. My father is avoiding the whole topic.

What’s upsetting me is that whenever I tell any of my friends what happened, I sound like I am defending the reason behind it and I feel like I have to clarify that NO I do not want back.

It’s really that simple; I agreed to let him meet with the boys because he has the right, getting a ruling from the court will only take time and it’s better for my kids' benefit that I do it amicably as long as I am not compromising any of my rights or security. It seemed to be a good idea given its effect on my boys.

Now, will I be considering a way back? HELL NO! He crushed me and my ability to trust in the whole notion of love. I am not devastated or heartbroken like I once thought I’d be, but my faith in love and marriage has forever been compromised.

As for him, I can’t look at him; I don’t even like looking at him. I don’t find anything he says interesting; in fact, most of the things he said the other day were extremely shallow and I would have normally grilled him with my ruthless sarcasm if I knew he could take it. So if I can’t look at him and I don’t find him interesting, not to mention the whole trust and respect issues I have clearly and repeatedly expressed on that blog, it is OVER.

According to the Egyptian norms, I am a crazy crazy woman.

I have been repeatedly told that I am making a big fuss out of something all men do and that any good wife belongs to her husband’s home. “Go home” they say, “you’ve already shown him your strength and made it clear that he cannot mistreat you and get away with it”. In addition to that, the man is a catch according to the lame Egyptian standards; he’s tall enough for me to never be his height no matter how high my heels are, he’s athletic, he has a career, drives a pricy car, and “shareeny”!!!!! Ya far7ety!!!!!!

Like all has been forgotten!!

Well I remember it all…

I remember how I first stumbled on each of his affairs…

I remember how my heart almost stopped the first time, I remember how hard I cried and I remember how abusive the confrontation was…

I remember that in the midst of all that I agreed to move out of the one home I ever belonged, so that his life would be easier and mine harder just to “be there for him” and “prove my love”…

I remember how my health kept deteriorating and how I kept going through one surgical procedure after the other, not to mention that my first c-section was due to severely high blood pressure which he caused in so many ways!

I remember how I made a huge fool out of myself forcing myself to believe his lies so that I can continue living with him only to stumble on more disturbing proofs of his lies…

I remember how my life turned to hell because I couldn’t trust him, and how humiliating it felt going through his messages and analyzing his words to find lies!

I remember how he finally stopped hiding his tracks and decided to do it all in the open and hide it by making me doubt my own sanity!

I remember wanting to die…

I remember the hospital fights, the worst postpartums, and the stitches that wouldn’t hold because of my constant sobbing!

I remember I almost caved in to all the pressures, and almost went back to him, more than once…

I remember each and every time I collapsed because I couldn’t…

I remember how angry he got because he couldn’t believe I rejected him after he “came clean”…

I remember the lies he said about me, lie after lie…

I remember how he said he no longer had kids, that they were dead to him, my kids…

I remember the ugliness that followed with his family showing their true color…

I remember my desperate cries and prayers and I remember very clearly the physical pain I went through in the process…

I remember how I managed to stand on my own two feet again, mostly with my father’s direct and indirect help and sometimes with my mom's and sisters', not to mention my friends…

I remember a lot of things that can make me angry all over again!! What people do not get is that the reason why I no longer get that angry is NOT because I am willing to go back; it’s because I realized I am too strong for him to break me and that I have nothing to fear of him.

I see how I bounced back, and I am proud of myself for it. I realize my losses and the damages he caused and I am ok with them. I have moved on, and knowing that, I can handle seeing him every day if I have to, as long as I am no longer his wife and I do not have to answer to him when it comes to my life.

It’s that simple, but people keep making their own assumptions about my feelings according to the expected behavior of women in my society, and the more I try to explain it, the more complicated it gets!! Look at how long that post have got when I tried explaining something so simple!!!

Sorry about that!