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The phone rang and she wanted to talk. She let on as if it was only a casual conversation. It was only later my lawyer informed me otherwise. I had no clue where the conversation was going. In a receptive and considerate tone she began asking some pointed questions, namely would I reconsider starting over?
*sigh*
I did not take long for me to give her my answer. In knee-jerk fashion I made it clear I would not. My encounters with my ex-spouse always required the closest scrutiny of my motivations. As much as I analyzed and re-analyzed, I found it impossible to come to one hundred percent certainty about her words and behaviours. As Austen says,
"Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken."
However, in spite of human limitations, I picked up my pen that day as a means of exploring the residue swirling in my head. These were the sort of questions I began to ask myself:
How is it possible for someone to bear grudges, then suddenly appear like all was forgotten?
How do you approach someone who is combative one moment, then charming the next?
When your trust has been eroded by, how can you be sure what is true and what is pretext?
I’ve also experienced bouts of heartsickness. It was a side effect of having any kind of contact with her. No matter how detrimental the messages I received, the move toward divorce was never easy. While separation seemed like a therapeutic option, divorce felt like death. The person who once played center stage became dead to me. My mind began to play tricks like memories of deceased persons often do, idealizing her person…
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