The Chronicles of Single Momya - Part 5

I moved into the "low income housing" apartment complex and settled in for the most part. I had a job that I hated and my employer made me cry many times because he was at the beginning of his own divorce and was taking out his bitterness on me. I could not quit because I desperately needed the money. The other attorney in the office was giving me work that I genuinely loved doing but still, it was a struggle to get up and go to work every single morning. My son was thriving, loved going to his day care provider's home and at least I knew he was safe, cared for and loved while I worked.

I tried not to think about myself at all. I was still so grossly overweight and disgusting that I couldn't even think about dating again. Perish the thought. I would have rather drank battery acid than get involved with anyone.

I checked out the neighborhoods around and realized I could simply start walking. I bought an IPod Shuffle, loaded it with songs, bought myself a decent pair of sneakers and got off my fat ass and started walking. I lost myself in the music and just let my legs carry me as far as I could go.

Small changes but I'd begun to take steps to make those changes.

Days flew by. It was time to go to court and get the divorce rolling, custody and support issue in place. It had been three years and my ex husband was literally non-existent in my son's life. My son didn't know any better and for that I was glad. But I knew better and each year since my son had been born, I had grown wiser and stronger.

I was warned that the judge would simply look at incomes, issue a support order and probably grant joint legal custody. My divorce would be quick and simple for the most part since I didn't have any assets (I had a big ass but no assets) and neither did my ex-husband. Court came and went, support order was in place, visitation was scheduled but nothing changed. My ex was always late with support, a few times checks bounced and he usually bailed on visitation. 2003 came and went.

In 2004 I enrolled my son in nursery school. He loved being with other children. 2004 also brought the Red Sox a World Championship, the 1st in 86 years. My son was too young to understand its meaning, but it meant a big deal for me. My ex husband was in and out of our lives, in and out of his son's life, missing important milestones, birthdays, etc. I begun not to care anymore. At some point in time, I realized I had never been in love with my ex husband. There had never been anything there at all. He wasn't even my type. I began to tell people I was temporarily insane when I had said I do.

My walking began to pay off. The pounds began to come off, slowly, but they came off. I didn't look as hideous (on the outside) anymore. I could look at myself again without the deep disgust. I realized that it had been six years since I'd had sex, the last time being when I got pregnant. I wasn't sure if I missed it or if I simply yearned for intimacy and closeness with another human being - something I never had with my ex husband.

In August, 2005, I was laid off from my job because my son was starting kindergarten and at the time it was a morning/afternoon program - not full day and my employer could not accommodate the schedule I had laid out. So the other attorney offered to take me on and let me work from home, or in the office, whatever suited me. OK, so God was listening. The transition was easy and life continued as I knew it. My son LOVED school. During the school year I got wind that a kid had been bullying my son. Apparently this went on for about three months until I found out about it, and my son had enough and punched the bully in the eye. I got a call from the principal's office about the incident. I had to choke back my laughter at the thought of my kid punching this other kid.

I taught my son not to ever start a fight, but don't back down from one. And even at that young age, he had already figured out he had taken enough of the BS from this kid. And popped him. Of course, I had to discipline him (slightly) but I told him I probably would have done the same thing.

The kid never bothered my son again.

An old classmate from high school contacted me about planning a "late" 25th high school reunion for 2006. It would actually be our "26th" reunion. That kept me busy the latter part of 2005.

I began to receive emails from old classmates, and information for classmates who had scattered around the country. And then something happened. I met up with an old classmate - someone who I knew simply as a guy in high school with whom I walked the same halls but someone who I had any kind of a friendship with. I was too much into sports writing and baseball and he was simply trying to fit in. He came to high school late - he was 2 years old than all of us. And there were other issues that I choose not to name in this blog because it would name him, and for the past four years, I've protected his identity for a very specific reason.

In January, 2006, my life changed as I knew it then.

Tomorrow: the bad dog who would not go home, feeling alive again, falling in and out of love.