You Have Got To Be Kidding Me, Chef.

Well, I found out today that Chef doesn’t plan to make this divorce easy for me. In fact, he

doesn’t want a divorce from me at all. He wants it to get expensive and ugly. I just don’t get it. Chef, if you are living with another woman, who has excitedly told me that you two are getting married as soon as our divorce is final, why would you want to drag the stupid thing out? All I asked for was my car and my maiden name back. Oklahoma is an alimony state, and yet I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t ask for half of anything in the house. What is wrong with this picture? Does this really make sense to you?

I’m still sick with the flu, so I know some of my emotions are just because I don’t feel well, but to say I’m angry right now is an understatement. And since the T family reads my blog, as well as most of T’s co-workers, I’ll just set out some things I’d like you to think about, Chef.

We both know what kind of trouble you are going to be in should I ask for alimony. I won’t elaborate  but you know what I’m talking about. I was foregoing my right to have some financial support so you wouldn’t get in trouble. You’re welcome, by the way.

Half of everything in that house is, by law, mine. Do you really want to have to divvy up half of almost nothing to me? I’m willing to let you keep it all! I have what I need!

You have another woman living in our home. I have the love letters that pre-date our separation. I wanted to divorce on grounds of irreconcilable differences. You really want adultery to be brought up in court? You’re a good talker, but no sane human being is going to look at all that you have done this last year and feel sorry for you. You tried selling your story, and not one single person besides T bought your bullshit.  You made your bed with dirty sheets, my man. I’d think you’d want to keep that sordid, humiliating mess out of court. But hey, it’s your rodeo!

You are one die-hard addict right now. And anyone can tell you are high. You do the Itchy-Scratchy dance even when you are sober these days. You want to risk going to court and tweaking out in front of a judge? With a bunch of cops around? You can tell yourself all day long that you will be clean by then, but we both know you most likely will not be able to stay clean that long. It’s sad. It breaks my heart. But that is the way it is. I’m doing you a favor. Take it.

Lastly, I don’t love you anymore. I love the guy you used to be, but I’ve figuratively buried that version of you, and I’m moving on. I don’t feel anything for this version that is mean, deceitful, full of envy and hate, always ranting at the unfairness of life, self-pitying, selfish, not compassionate, rage-filled, and let’s just be honest…always broke. The only times I hear anything even a little kind from you is the preface to a request for money. Your little spaz-out because I wouldn’t pay your cell phone bill this week is just one example. Re-read your ridiculous texts and then ask yourself why you are losing your wife. You lost me. Live with it.

Have T tell you again that you are fantastic just the way you are. You won’t get that from me. I KNOW you can do better. I think you should earn respect by at least trying to improve yourself, instead of T chanting to you how wonderful you are like a mantra. I get that this is really an illness that is kicking your butt. But even knowing that, you aren’t going to get well if you don’t even try to help yourself. And I’m not willing to feed your ego when I’m watching you kill your body. Sorry. I have decades of history with a good man, and I will always have hope that you find your footing to be that man again. But I’m not going to lie to you and enable you to kill not only your body, but your spirit and your soul too. I loved you more than that. I hope you someday remember how much I fought to stop this war you declared on yourself.

Let me go, Chef. Let’s be done with this, please. I’m begging here. I feel lashed to ship that is sinking quickly. For decades you almost always did the right thing for this family. Please do one more last, good, unselfish thing and let me go. I don’t want to be married to you anymore.

Sincerely,

Bird