Just because I thought it was over...doesn't mean it's over

Well, soon-to-be-ex-dh finally left. After weeks...months of telling me that he didn't know when he was going to leave, didn't know where he could go, what he could afford, or if he would even leave, he moved out. On April Fool's Day. Naturally, he was considerate enough to tell me of his impending move a few weeks in advance so that I could be ready for that day when all the bills would be mine, so that I could make sure any valuables I wanted to keep were safely in my possession, and most importantly, so we could prepare our son for the biggest change in his young life. Oh wait, that's what a considerate person would do, and we're talking about STBEDH here. (You know, that acronym is not working for me and the whole thing is too cumbersome to type over and over again. Let's just stick with Jackass for now.) No, Jackass is not the most considerate person in the world. If he were, I might not be in this situation in the first place. Jackass lets me know he's moving out on the day he's leaving by sending me a text message while I'm sitting at H&R Block trying to get my taxes done. (Although I would learn later that he was nice enough to leave a note on the kitchen table telling me that this was not an April Fool's Day joke. What a guy.) While I'm sending him text messages, asking him to please let us use the married - filing jointly option instead of married - filing separately because that's a sucker's bet and we were both going to lose out on some much needed credits by filing separately, he's packing up his stuff (and some of mine and some of Monkey's) and moving out. Instead of responding to my tax questions, he sends me a text letting me know that by the time I get home, he'll be gone. This, a week or so after telling me he's going to therapy and asking me half-heartedly if I want to go to with him. This, a week or so after telling me that he didn't know when he would be able to move out.

He wanted me to have Monkey call him as soon as I picked him up from school, and I didn't realize until much later that it was probably so he could make sure he was gone before I got home. He told Monkey on the phone that he moved out and was living in a new house and didn't that sound cool? When we got home, Monkey realized that some of his toys were missing. Since Jackass bought them, he decided that he should be able to take them so that Monkey could play with them at his new house. Fine, I can understand that, but shouldn't the kid get to decide for himself what toys he wants to take? And who the hell gave Jackass permission to take things my mother bought for this house, not to mention the expensive crystal vase my father gave to me? I know I shouldn't be upset over material things. There are much more important matters to consider in all this, after all. But it's the principle of the thing. He left when he knew I wouldn't be able to see what he was taking. He took things that he knew I would be mad about. He has the nerve now to say that I saw him packing. Not quite true.

But that's not really what's bothering me anymore. I mean, it does still piss me off, but I do realize that it does me no good to be upset about those things, so I've tried to let it go. Tonight something really weird happened. I thought I was used to him not being here. It was a relief to not have him here. I've had the locks changed as well as the code to the garage door openers. I've slept better in the last few weeks than I have in the last several months. No more worrying that he was going to barge in to whatever room I was in and ignore my pleas to leave me alone by saying that he could go in any room he wanted to because it was his house and if I didn't like it, that was too bad. No more panicking that he would fly into one of his blind rages because he didn't like what my attorney put into the latest draft of the settlement agreement. It's been peaceful. It's been calm. It's been safe. Then without any warning, the old panic came back tonight. Over something so innocuous it made me realize that I'm not doing nearly as well with all this as I thought. Monkey was running into my room and banged into the door, causing a ruckus that I haven't heard since Jackass was here. The old fear came rushing back and for a fleeting, unreasonable moment, I thought he was back. That he had somehow gotten past the new locks and was coming in to accuse me of who knows what and yell at me for God knows what again. My heart raced and I could feel the blood rushing from my face. I felt sick to my stomach. All of this in the two seconds it took Monkey to make one loud noise running into a door.

Getting my life back in order is going to take a lot longer than I thought.