The Prodigal Daughter Didn't Return

Danielle's visit turned out to be substantially different than what I expected.  She came to town a week early, interfering with plans for me and my sweetheart to leave town to visit his mother.  We had to change plans at the last minute so we'd be in town and available to attend Danielle's birthday party.

Despite all her talk about moving back, by the time her birthday rolled around, her plans had changed.  She planned to go back across the border after her visit, but promised to sign up for Job Corps on her way home.  She'd stay with her biological family until she could enroll, and then she'd get on with her life.

The plan sounded really great.  It's a shame she didn't follow through.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised.  Danielle has always talked a great talk, but rarely followed through on achieving goals or doing things that required much in the way of dedication or effort on her part.  As far as I know, she's still living with her biological aunt where she's not going to school and doesn't have a job.

For the most part, her visit was pleasant.  I guess I got something of a quasi-apology for her past behavior.  She admitted she had been a "difficult child" and had regrets.  I can only guess what she meant by that, because she didn't elaborate.

It sounds like her life with her biological family has been less than wonderful.  Danielle reported that a family member had been stealing her clothing and selling it for drug money.  Another family member is seriously ill, leaving Danielle in charge of childcare.  While I guess she is being useful, I worry that she's not developing the skills that will lead her to success later in life.  That disappoints me.

Still, I am relieved that she decided not to move back to town.

While Danielle stayed with FosterEema for about two weeks, I saw her only a handful of times.  Since we had to change our plans to pay my sweetie's mother a visit, we were out of town the second weekend she was here.  We didn't see her when we returned, because we came home with a very bad cold and didn't want to share the germs.

We invited Danielle and FosterEema over to have waffles as a celebratory birthday breakfast.  It was odd having the two of them in the house.  Even though this is the home we had shared for years, they both felt like strangers.  In a way, it was almost as if FosterEema and I had never been a couple, and Danielle  was never our child.

Odd feeling, that.  I give lots of credit to my sweetheart who was kind and polite to both of them, even though he has no reason to be.  He is a good man, and I'm grateful to have him in my life.

Who Got the Goldmine and Who Got the Shaft?

In response to An Overdue Update, r. asked:

So on to the important stuff-- Who got the birds and the show car?

The short answer to this question: I did.

Our African Grey, Sir Spudly, died in February of 2012.  Moonie, our blind macaw, has had several massive seizures over the past two years.  Her balance is affected, so she tends to be pretty inactive.  Cognitively, she's just not the same bird, though in some respects, she's more easygoing now. Chicken, our small cockatoo, is Chicken.  She's fine.

Since there was no talk of splitting up after Sir Spudly died, we ended up getting a new baby African Grey.  Almost immediately after he arrived, my mother needed surgery and I had to stay with her to help out.  While I was gone, the bird bonded with FosterEema.  When I returned, I was given the position of least favored person, and he'd try to pinch me every chance he got,

A few months later, while I was out of town attending a parrot training seminar, FosterEema asked me for the divorce.  The plan was that she would take some (or even perhaps all) of the birds.  In the end, she wasn't able to find an apartment that allowed pets, so they stayed with me.

Chicken and Moonie, while they missed FosterEema at first, seemed okay with the changes.  The baby grey, however, continued to be nasty to me for a very long time.  His attitude improved when I took him on a road trip.  He decided, once we were in unfamiliar surroundings, that I wasn't as bad as he'd made me out to be.  We still aren't really buddies, but at least we have something of a truce. The truth is, I need to spend more time working with him.

As for the car, it's no longer worth showing.  While it was shiny and new when we bought it back in 2006, now it's just an eight-year-old import showing your typical wear and tear.  FosterEema and I dropped out of the car club years ago. Our weekly nit-picky wash, wax and detail sessions have long since become a thing of the past.

While it might sound like I got the goldmine and FosterEema got the shaft, I think our settlement was fair. We hammered it out on our own, and came to an amicable agreement.  While it is true I received a larger share of the material goods we acquired during our relationship, I  also took on all of the debt that went with it.  The house was, and still is, underwater.

FosterEema left with her personal possessions, an equal share of our joint bank accounts, and one car. She lived in the house for a year, rent-free, after asking me for the divorce.

While I suppose it's tempting to sing Jerry Reed's She Got the Goldmine after most divorces, I don't think it needs to be sung for our divorce.  We divided things up as fairly as we could, given the circumstances.  While it might have been easier to sell everything and split the cash, it's not possible to do when you have assets that are indebted to a level that's higher than they are worth.

If there is such a thing, I think FosterEema and I have managed to have a good divorce.

Moving On

I've heard very little from Danielle since she left in early October.  I received two one-line messages on a social media site -- one in time for my birthday and another for Thanksgiving.  Other than that, I've heard nothing.

I've not heard much from FosterEema as well.  She mentioned that Danielle had contacted her asking for a certified copy of her adoption papers.  Other than that, there seems to be little news.

Other than a few random contacts through social media, I don't think anyone else has heard from Danielle, either.  She's moved on.

FosterEema has moved on.

I am moving on.

Life is substantially different now, not having the constant worry and conflict.  I no longer find myself fretting over what destructive thing Danielle might do next.  I wake up in the morning, and I don't have to steel myself for difficult behaviors.  I don't have to remember deescalation practices or proper parenting techniques.

I can just be.

Life is much easier.  The constant stress of arguments and potential violence is gone.  I sleep better at night.  I no longer have to lock the master bedroom door.  My life mostly revolves around taking care of my house, my birds and my job.

Time has gone by so fast.  It's hard to believe that:

• It has been almost a year and a half since FosterEema asked me for a divorce.
• It has been eight months since FosterEema and I signed our get.  (Jewish religious divorce papers)
• It has been almost five months since FosterEema and Danielle moved out.
• It has been two months since Danielle turned 18.

In some ways, my life is very much the same as it was in the "before."  I am still surrounded by many of the same possessions and I work the same job.  Still, much is different.  My living space is much cleaner, and I have a much stronger sense of peace.

I'm also dating someone new.  I met him online a year ago, though we didn't start seeing each other romantically until after FosterEema and I signed our get.

Yes, I'm seeing a gentleman.  I'm sure it's a surprise to some of you, especially after knowing that FosterEema and I were together for 14 years.  From my perspective, it isn't much of a surprise -- I dated men exclusively before meeting FosterEema.

After being with FosterEema for so long, I will admit to there being a bit of an adjustment.  When I am out in public, nobody gives me a second glance anymore.  When I hold hands with my sweetheart, people don't generally notice.  When they do, we receive approving smiles.  I imagine people thinking, "Isn't that cute, a 40-something-year-old couple still holding hands."  When people talk to me about him, they never refer to him as my "friend" in a vaguely disapproving tone.

It has been an odd adjustment after living in queer space for so long.  Now, I get to experience heterosexual privilege in a way that's much more real and personal.  Sure, I experienced it before, when I dated men in the past, but somehow I never really noticed just how much easier it is to be straight until I lived and loved in queer space for 14 years.

It's an adjustment, to be sure.

As near as I can tell, FosterEema is happy as well.  We don't communicate much anymore, other than exchanging a few basic texts that are all business-related.  Occasionally she'll send me a message that she's heard from Danielle, but pretty much our communications are confined to exchanging information about client projects or legal loose ends.  FosterEema has a new job, which she claims to love, and she's made plenty of new friends in her new city.

I'm glad for that.  While I do miss FosterEema's friendship, now that we've had some time and space apart, I don't miss the romantic part of our relationship.  I guess some partnerships aren't meant to last, and this one ran its course.  Although I never would have been the one to ask for a divorce, because I was fully committed to our marriage, I do not see the end as a disaster.  We've parted amicably, and though it wasn't a separation I wanted, it has been an opportunity for growth and new experiences.

Mostly, I'm left with the sense of knowing that it's time to move on to the next thing…whatever that might be.