I must be beginning to heal … or, at least for today I’ve managed to work up a good head of indignation at the betrayal that has brought the end of my marriage.
One reason for breaking our family, out of the very few that my husband has managed to share with me, is that I was working too hard and not paying enough attention to him.
Now, even though I could have some empathy for that as a reason to begin to distance oneself from a spouse, I can’t fathom that process happening without some discussion, but there was nary a word from Mark other than the occasional complaint that my dinner was getting cold as I was trying to post or that I wasn’t paid nearly enough for the number of hours I dedicated to my work.
If this work I poured so much of my soul into was without soul, if, perhaps, I was consumed by fluctuating money markets or with attending constantly to a process designed to grow more and more money for myself in an endless game of greed, I might also have some compassion for a mate who felt ignored by aggressive avarice.
The fact is, however, that through the adoption of our children I became a passionate advocate for international adoption. The millions of children without families in the world are for the most part a voiceless lot, and given that there are no few people in the world very vocal about seeing to keeping these kids sentenced to a short life of misery under a banner misleading reading “Cultural Genocide” or something equally shortsighted or self indulgent, lending my efforts to remind that there are other sides to that coin with miraculous results seemed an effort worth pursuing and pursuing vigorously.
I personally know of a dozen kids who have wonderful families now whose shift from hopeless forever to chances and opportunities and love can be directly traced to my work.
I’m not trying to pull any “Saint” shirt on over my head with this, but it sure does piss me off that my husband, father to our two Cambodian-born children, has taken my work, my passion for the world’s orphans, my dedication, and turned it into an excuse for leaving our family for the Blow Job Queen of Trashland … fat face, big tits and all.
I think this just might mean I’m getting better.
A collection of my short stories:
I'm in this one, too ...
And I'm in here, as well ...
Paradise Preoccupied 
S,
I am so glad that you are giving your work the credit it deserves. You spent countless hours being a voice for innocent children who have none. Children who are alone and unloved. And you sure as hell didn’t do it for the money. What freakin’ money? You did it to save lives.
The “why” of your family break-up has to do with Mark. All he had to do was tap you on the shoulder, and you would have turned to him. You’ve always spoken so lovingly about your family…there is no doubt they came first. And always will.
You have a passion for writing and advocacy. You have a keen sense of right and wrong. It is a blessing for all who benefit from it. I hope that in time you will jump back into the fray. In fact, I’m sure you will. And look out world!
Thanks, Virginia. Your faith in me inspires.
Pfffft. Mark has no concern other than himself. For the sake of not appearing to be as much of a jerk as he is, he may put on a face of compassion at times, but the bottom line for Mark (at least as evidenced by his actions of late) is: what’s in it for me? And there was nothing in it for him to watch his wife put so much time and effort into making a small right for the millions of children of the world who have had it so wrong. So……poof! Mark is gone, off to find someone he thinks will slave better to his desires. Good luck.
I was reading this thinking what a boat load of crap and excuses from Mark.
I worked in this same area, long hours and little pay as well, but my husband saw his responsibility to me and our family. He saw fit to bring me a fresh drink, rub my back, invite me away from my work for a quiet moment together, after putting our three children to sleep.
How insane that Mark decided to shirk those duties (of LOVE) for you and your children, in favor of his own self-serving debauchery!
The more I take in what you have been going through, the more I would like to send you a sharp machete for pruning the nasty little weed!
S-
Strange. At no point did I find difficulty in being completely at ease with the idea/reality that the woman dearest to me my entire life (yes, that would be you) was pulling up stakes and setting up shop two thousand miles east of Zanzibar. I did not blind myself to the possibility that my own sense of longing would likely grow more acute with your living so many time zones and a date line (depending which you go) away. I think it was my belief that you were standing where no rugs could be pulled from under you- and no rugs was the greatest thing I could imagine- and the joy I felt for you made me feel closer to you, made missing you easier to deal with.
Then out goes the rug.
My mother, my dear friend. I shead tears for your sadness, then find myself smiling, thinking of my life of love for you and realizing how close I still feel.
You are still you. Amazing, formidable, and to be celebrated. I shall ever and anon remind you of this; lest you forget.
jar
Oh! My wonderful, loving and cheering son! Your comment has me sobbing, and so thankful for the release prompted by so much love from you.
Mark did do a good job of giving the illusion of no rug pulling, didn’t he? But once again, I’m cold.
Sure miss you.
Love,
Ma
He loves you, Sandra, because you are completely lovable. Doubt it not.
I’m assuming you mean my son, Tisha, not my husband, and that is certainly true, and runs both ways strongly.
And Deb, machetes are a dime a dozen here. I have at least one somewhere in the garden tools. I’ll never look at it the same now, though. Thanks!
My God Sandra! What your son wrote brings me to tears. Tears of joy. You must be so proud to have such a beautiful wonderful son. What he said is just what you needed to hear…the relief and release you must be feeling right now must be staggering.
Thank you Jaren for being such a compassionate, loving son.
Your Mom is really on her way to healing now. Because of you, she will have the best day she has had since this whole nightmare started. Because of you, her heart will start to mend. I wish you were my son. Best wishes and good luck with your band.
Yes, I meant Jaren when I wrote “he”.
The “completely lovable” part is a character trait and so stands as true whether Mark feels it or no. But me thinks he already knows, admit it or not……
It’s very clear how you feel about Jaren and he seems to have inherited his mom’s lovableness. Very nice.
If you’ d had nothing else to focus your attention on but him, he’d have used the excuse that you were smothering him and were boring. Men cheat on wives no matter what they have or haven’t done. It has nothing to do with what sort of woman the wife is. If a man is unhappy in a marriage the honorable thing is to put his feelings on the table and see if things can be worked out. The adulterer comes up with all these excuses later on in an attempt to not look/feel like a total shit — pushing some of the blame on you absolves him of his bad behaviour — he thinks.
You are sounding so much more positive!! I love it!! :0)
– Faith
Sandra,
Mark is putting the blame on you so he won’t feel that bad…it is typical behaviour of someone who feels guilty…and watch him he’s like a puppy he squeeks, yelps but soon he’ll start barking very loud because he won’t be able to deal with his guilt and the look people will give him.
On a happier note…your son is Darling! Reading his message moved me to bits…
Try to remain focus and be with the people who really love you, your children, your friends…and trash should stay in the dump!
You remain in my thoughts and wish you all the very very best to recover from this terrible ordeal very soon.
Sas
Oh, Sandra! Mark is a wank and his mother should be ashamed.
I was so happy to finally see some indignation from you! Then I saw your son’s comment and tears came to my eyes. At least you can rest easy at night, knowing that you are not the kind of mother who raises wanks!
Hang in there!
You are loved.
Lisa
Gee Sandra. Whine much?
Actually not, Chris, but there’s something about having to watch my children suffer and my family fall apart that does create a sense of loss that comes through in my writing.
A question for you now: Feel much?
Hey Sandra,
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Natasha
Sandra,
having spent approx 6 months in the seychelles 6 years ago …i promise you my partner and i left the seychelles with this awesome feeling ….of meeting some really genuine people really blessed…. and sandra you are great soul
now we felt this need to make contact with friends from the seychelles only to be told of this tragedy!!! what a terrible human to have you suffer this pain…..look sandy you are priceless…mark is going thru midlife crisis..yes we have all heard it before….believe it or not…. he will be coming back..but you will be the one laughing in the end… ofcourse not to take him back…but to bury his a… !!!!
dont forget ..you are more than welcome a visit in the west indies…
cheer up sweetie you will be ok…..