"Going to a junkyard is a sobering experience. There you can see the ultimate destination of almost everything we desired." —Roger Von Oech, A Wack On The Side of the Head

I read this the other day and have since been trying to keep it in mind as Christmas creeps closer and closer and my bank account gets lower and lower. It seems that once you have a child there is so much pressure on you as a parent to perform in many areas, and acquiring "stuff" is a big one.

It was at the mall last night, where I was desperately searching for "stuff" to buy for Adrian, that this quote helped me the most.

Looking at rocket ships, dinosaurs, train sets — all overpriced — and parents stumbling over one another to have them; I thought about all of the toys that Adrian has had since he's been born. Then I thought about where they all ended up: either broken and in the garbage or outdated and donated.

We don't have tons of money, at all. Levi is still not contributing and as Adrian's birthday is so close to Christmas I'm still stuck playing a little bit of catch up from that.

As much as I'd like to, I simply can't afford to have a dozen presents under the tree and besides which, are these monetary, materialistic values the type that I'd like to instill in my son, anyhow? The answer is no.

It took a bit of reasoning with myself but I'm feeling okay with it now. Adrian is getting four presents from me (well, two Santa gets the credit for) and we will spend the rest of the day basking in each other's company — and maybe playing in the snow.

Christmas will be about more than gifts. It will also be about appreciating each other and strengthening the bond of our family.

I wish you all a very happy holiday.

Faith

Thanksgiving week has all the wind knocked out of me. Could just be my reaction to going down, down, down the rabbit hole. The Holidays are here.

Only thing I know is the only thing I want to do is curl up under my big old comforter and sleep. It’s the lack of time that has me feeling so defeated. My kids don’t have school all week and we don’t have childcare, don’t have the money for the extra child care, I should say, so what happens? I don’t have time to work.

We are caught right smack in the center exactly what I feared getting back into this. I have no time to work because we can’t afford to cover the business hours I need so jobs are left unfinished leaving me feeling further defeated and my pay further behind, which adds up to less childcare that we can afford and fewer things completed. It goes on like this until I’m right where I am now.

One big miserable puddle of blah. And I blame it on the marriage, when actually I should blame it on me.

My reasoning, skewed as it may be, is that when we were apart a couple things were absolute: I had several days every week to work because the kids were with Sam and I had to make it work because the alternatives were homelessness and starvatation.

This week, I’m giving thanks for my two beautiful, healthy girls, and the ability I have to back up, reconsider, and try it again. But I'm also questioning how much of my current situation is a self-fulfilling prophecy and why I can't have the structure to make room for work in the same way I did when I was separated.

We've been looking for a place to rent for almost two months, but we're still in the same broke boat, with the same crappy credit we had two years ago when I left.

And just like when I left, and all the long years leading up to it, the weight of financial pressure creates this ongoing competition for resources that exacerbates all of our other problems.

Sam says I'm more stressed about it than he is.

He says it to me and he says it to our therapist, then we walk out of the appointment and he accuses me of wanting more than I actually want, of wanting to keep up with the Joneses, when actually I could not care less about anyone else's lifestyle.

I don't want a McMansion. I just want to get by without struggling.

It's the same old fight.

Not being able to support our family makes him feel inadequate, and I know it's true because when I left because he owned up to it. Admitted the nasty things he said were about being angry with himself, not me.

So I call him on it, and he apologizes. It's an improvement I'm willing to work with.

Our therapist once told me finances are cited as a key factor in 80 percent of divorces. Money is the number-one point of contention in marriages. I'll buy that. There's so much stuff bound up in dollars.

Like they say, money is power. So, of course, there's contention about who spends it and how. That's assuming there's money to be spent.

Those arguments feel luxurious to me. We don't get to fight about whose spending irresponsibly. More likely, I ask Sam to ask his family for a loan; he refuses. Or what we are going to do about child care this fall because we owe Lila's pre-school more than it cost me for a year of college back in the day, and until we pay it down, we can't use their before and after care program.

Sam and I both work hard at jobs we love, but we don't make much money doing it.

Gas is up to $3.69 at the cheap station on the corner and the media has spouted three different in-depth accounts of why I dropped $78 on two bags of groceries this week.

Story number one, the obvious: with gas prices over $4 a gallon in some places, cost of transporting food is driving prices through the roof. Well, of course.

Story number two: a CNN account of how commodity traders are responsible by betting on futures. Get past the basic supply and demand model and economics flies right over my head. I don't totally understand why, but it made sense when I was watching.

Story number three: federal mandates requiring farmers to grow corn for bio-ethanol fuels has cut into our food supply. Not only does less corn make it to market, other grain crops shrink to make way for more corn we can't eat. The point: we need to find an alternate energy source or we'll likely starve ourselves fueling our excessive lives.

Oh yeah, and one more story I heard last week, related to the ridiculous price of surviving: it's been 30 years since the U.S. government has increased food stamp funding. And, the ever-wise W is poised to veto two bills calling for an increase.

I'm low on grocery money this week.

From day one of separation, I've said money wouldn't be a deciding factor. I would not have a poverty-inspired reunion.

I'm not sure now. The higher those prices climb, the deeper my debt. I've been so busy surviving these last few months, I haven't paid any bills. Well, I did pay gas, but only because it was turned off. WiFi, too.

The harder it gets, the more appealing my marriage looks. I keep asking myself, if money weren't an issue would I still be married?

I mean, in these 18 months of separation, I couldn't afford to file even when I was positive I wanted to.

Now, I'm just broke and uncertain. 


One of the biggest myths of all is that divorcees and single mothers are seen as heroes. They've survived trials and tribulations, they took a stand, and they're making it on their own.

Heroes? In my book, yes. In the public eye? Oh, no, not at all, I'm afraid.

Divorcees are quickly perceived as women on the prowl. They're cougars. They're predators. They have no man, therefore, they must be on the hunt for one. And if they're not? Then they must be depressed, suicidal wash-ups barely hanging on.

Single mothers? Valiant crusaders raising children? I'm afraid not. Single mothers are usually pinned as bad mothers, because who in their right mind would rip children away from their fathers and feed kids Kraft Dinner when child support payments weren't forthcoming?

Well, I'll tell you who's in their right mind. Divorcees and single mothers, that's who.

These women have gone through life experiences that are challenges to their very self-worth and integrity. These women fight hard and fight back, sometimes even against themselves as they try to figure it all out.

These women are survivors and forward thinkers, not women who lie in complacency or settle for less. These women refuse to sit back and take a beating for years. They get up, they get out, and they get on with it.

Do they do it on a whim? Not likely. Women take a long time before making up their minds, and that goes double (and sometimes triple) for women in relationships that aren't working.

There's nothing impulsive about leaving your partner. There's nothing quick or fast about it. It's a big decision that demands a lot of thought and careful planning. It can take a decade or more before that step out the door occurs.

"I just don't get it...why are you still in this relationship?" That's a quote from one of my readers, and it's a valid question. Honestly, I stared at that comment for about five minutes without moving, and then I read it aloud to myself. Then I asked myself, "Yeah, Megan, why are you still in this relationship?"

Oddly enough, even though I'm just crazy enough to ask myself a question out loud, I'm not quite crazy enough to have an answer.

There are many reasons why I'm still in this relationship. I'm scared to death of turning my kids' world upside down. I'm scared at having to make it on my own financially. I'm scared of walking away from a relationship when there might be a smidgen of hope for us. I'm scared that my husband will fall back into the suicidal feelings thing.

I'm scared of ending a marriage that I began in a church, standing before a pastor, my family, and God, with me promising to stay with my husband for better or for worse until the day I die. So yeah, basically I'm scared.

I'm not afraid to admit that I'm a big scaredy-cat. With life in general, I'm not really ever paralyzed with fear. I make a decision and leap right in. When it comes to this, though, I'm frightened out of my mind.

I don't like being so scared of something that it keeps me from making a final decision. This isn't my usual fare, and it makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

Ask me why I'm still in the relationship, and I'll give you a big, confident reply of "I have no idea." I'm just scared, that's all. I can't rush into something that terrifies me, and going from married to not married terrifies me.

I can't be the only person to have dealt with these feelings, can I?

What scares me:

I'm afraid of moving on.

I'm afraid of not moving on.

I'm afraid of not seeing my kids every day.

I'm afraid of seeing my kids every day.

I want Sam to move on and find the woman who can love him fully for who he is, sensitive and loving and beautiful. A woman who makes him feel these things about himself.

I'm afraid Sam will move on and find another woman and she will raise my kids with him.

I'm afraid that leaving him, again, will ruin my kids. Take from them any sense of trust and security.

I'm afraid that staying will doom them to a lifetime of staying in unfulfilling relationships because they will constantly recreate mine.

I'm afraid of how hard the logistics of raising them together separately will be.

I'm afraid of how hard living in one place will be.

I'm afraid of poverty, together or alone.

I'm afraid that I can't make it on my own.

I'm afraid that we can't make it together.

I'm afraid of going crazy.

I'm afraid of being sane.

I'm afraid of what my friends and family will think about my putting this marriage almost all the way back together, just to leave it again.

I'm afraid if I do not go I will never know how much of me I have given up by staying.

Since the divorce, Stinky likes to make a trip once a year up here to show his gracious generosity by using his credit card to purchase socks, underwear, shoes, and school supplies for his son and daughter. He will not pay one red cent in child support throughout the year, but in August he gets to come up here and play hero for the day. Last year, I did something I never thought I would do - I took advantage of his credit at a major department store. See, since he was with me, but hated to shop, we just filled out the credit card form right then and there and the lovely clerk gave me a slip of paper to use until his card arrived in the mail.

Did I mention that Stinky is a little on the ignorant side? I think he just doesn't care enough to pay attention sometimes. If it isn't something he is interested in, he ignores it. Shopping is one of those things.

The following week, and after he'd left town, my daughter had decided she didn't exactly like a particular outfit and Joseph still did not have his much-needed shoes. So, I did the unthinkable, but, trust me, I did a whole lot of thinking before I promptly marched myself up to the department store and exchanged the one outfit for three more, bought my son's shoes and a couple of more shirts and bought myself a few things, too, using that little slip of paper. After all, the last name on the card was "Woodard," and I still use that as my legal name (for the kids' sake).

Hard week, this week.

I'm feeling trapped here in my life again. In this little apartment thinking, This is not how I want my kids to remember childhood: Their mom sleeping on the couch.

Roxie's starting first grade in the fall and all I want is for her to begin school living in a little house, in a neighborhood full of kids.

I don't know how to get from here to there.

The only way is another giant leap of faith. I'd have to move into a house knowing I can't afford it, and believe I will find a way.

My feet feel grounded in cement.

Recently, someone left a very vicious comment regarding a post I made about feeling pain that my mother wanted to sell the family home and how it had stirred up the realization that I depended very much on other people for survival.

Well, the comment deserves an answer, if only so that I can defend myself.

We at FWW are asked to write on our personal experiences, thoughts and feelings in our journey of separation and divorce. That means that what we write here is, in that definition, stories that are all about us.

The commentator felt very upset that I made no mention of how grateful I am for what others have done or how I should be thankful for kindnesses shown to me through my life.

I make no mention of these things because they are truly deeper feelings than I care to share here with the world in public. Sex? Sure. Divorce? No problem. Kids? Why not? Pain, hurt and tears? Alright. But for me to discuss my feelings of family and my family itself is beyond the mandate of this position and beyond what I wish to share with the world.

Some direct quotes I'd like to address:

"You have no sense of family unity...nowhere in your story do you mention other siblings, which in turn means you're very selfish."

I have four siblings who have all moved either across the country or to another continent. I am the sole child who has chosen to remain within 20 minutes of my mother. If I moved farther, my mother would be alone and see none of her grandchildren at all. Quite the lonely life indeed, so I do what I can to prevent it.

"You have been married twice, divorced twice..."

Sweetheart, it's a blog about divorce. Had I been married once and successful, I wouldn't be here writing. Or putting up with your slander and judgement.

"You have serious mental issues."