HELL

Quite frankly, I don't know how to write about this without disassociating a little and robotically regurgitating what I remember. So, here goes nothing.

After telling Jon he needed to move out as soon as possible, he was able to reach out to a friend at school and secure a room in his apartment. He would be moving out the coming Thursday and Friday when he had spare time. Thus, on Monday, it was time to start preparations. After the kids were in bed, I had arranged to go speak with our landlord to let him and his wife know the state of affairs. Before I left, Jon got a little emotional. His actions and their consequences were suddenly clear and he began to realize there were things he would inevitably miss if he was no longer living with the kids and I. "When I was helping Zuzu get dressed this morning I realized one day she's just not going to need a pull-up anymore and I'm not going to be here for that," he said as tears ran down his face. I was crying too. This, THIS type of realization was what I waited so long for Jon to have. The understanding that his selfishness was going to cost him dearly. But it never came until it was too late, and even then, I don't believe this dawning on him earlier would have been enough to convince him to fight for our marriage. He had convinced himself so thoroughly that he was unhappy with me, that he couldn't see how happy he was with his kids. 

As Jon and I stood in the kitchen wiping tears from our cheeks, our oldest two daughters wandered in and were alarmed to see both mom and dad crying. Oh, it's nothing! Don't worry about it. We'll explain a little later. Go back to bed. I can't imagine the amount of trepidation that filled their sweet hearts after seeing something like that, but they obeyed. After that I drove to the landlord's house. I had tears already streaming down my face as I knocked at their door. They quickly whisked me into another room and both husband and wife sat with me. I managed to choke out that Jon had cheated, that we were separating, that he was moving out, that I would be moving in with my parents eventually. They were shocked, speechless, and tears streamed down the other woman's face as well. There was a small silver lining to this though. My landlord also happened to be a very good friend and the Stake President, the church leader that presides over all the Latter-day Saints in Raymond and the surrounding area. He offered me a priesthood blessing which I gratefully accepted. Not a day has gone by that I have not felt the strength and power that that blessing endowed me with. 

Some other preparations included speaking to the Principal at my children's school. I gave him a heads up even before my kids found out. It was important to me that their teachers be aware of their pain and struggles and that they have access to the school counsellor. I also sat down with my boss. My work at the junior high started at 7am two days a week. Without Jon in the home to get the kids on the bus, I wouldn't be able to get to work that early. Both principals were kind and understanding.

On Tuesday my daughters were still curious about the night before, asking why Jon and I had been crying. Again, we tried to soothe them into not worrying about it, that they would find out soon enough as we had decided to tell them the night before Jon moved. After putting my kids to bed, I went to a friend's house. I was bawling before I even arrived as it dawned on me while driving that I had just experienced the last "normal" bedtime with my kids before their hearts would be broken and their worlds changed. I'm grateful to have spent this evening with friends who opened their ears and arms to my pain.

And then it was Wednesday. Perhaps I haven't encountered enough pain in my life to accurately gauge things, but this was without a doubt the most painful, devastating night of my life. My daughter's curiosity was killing them by this point. We reassured them we would tell them at bed time. I'm fairly certain Jon and I were both crying by the time pajamas were on, teeth were brushed, and prayers were said. We sat in the basement living room of our house, the floor was littered with toys. I sat on one side of the room, Jon on the other. And then we broke their hearts. Dad is moving out. He's going to live in Lethbridge. He has broken important promises and has to leave.

I'm trying so hard not to feel things while I type, to be the robot I said I would. I've said before that I've forgiven Jon, but maybe that is inaccurate. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive him for making me face this moment in my life, where we ended a small portion of the ignorance and delight of our kid's childhoods. This hour or so of a Wednesday evening in March will forever be my most personal version of Hell. Everyone cried, everyone except Zuzu. She played with the toys while our words and new reality floated blissfully over her head. Occasionally she would ask a question, she was upset that dad was leaving, but really didn't grasp the reality of that. As for the older three kids, they alternated between Jon and I. Sheriff came to me BEGGING me to forgive Jon and let him stay. Logan clung to Jon for dear life and choked out through tears that she wished this was a dream, that she wished this wasn't real. Gibb begged his dad not to go, to stay. I may never understand how Jon didn't foresee that all of his actions were leading to this very moment. And it was all avoidable. I had waited as long as I did, I let him hurt me and crush me as long as he did so I could prevent that night from happening. 

There have been times where I'll flashback to this night with such vivid recollection that it feels like I'm back in that basement. My chest will get tight like someone is sitting on me and my eyes will fill with tears before I even realize what's happening. Is this what is referred to as a panic attack? PTSD?

We let the kids skip school the next day. My sweet Sheriff set to work making a list of all the things we needed to do as a family one last time before Dad moved out. Unfortunately, Jon was so busy packing that he only participated in half of one activity. I honestly can't remember what else we did that day. Jon came back to help with bedtime, but after leaving I remained in Sheriff and Logan's room for at least an hour trying to console them through my own tears. On Friday my parents had the kids and I sleep over so they could help me with bedtime. Gibb had been holding up okay, but after not seeing Jon really at all that day he broke. Instead of tears, he rampaged for an hour. He screamed, he threw things, he hit me, he yelled at me. And I stayed with him and just took it, stopping him from wrecking anything or really hurting me, but staying until his anger turned to anguish. When he finally calmed down I held him as he broke and admitted that he was so, so sad and missed his dad so much. I cried with him. I cried a lot with my kids.