My brother called me at work on Tuesday. The foreboding tone of the preceding text messages made me brace myself. In hindsight, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. My mom is filing for divorce.
I was so silent he kept asking if I was okay. I was, am. His voice was cracking in between the pauses in his speech. My mother had told him she had been unhappy for ten years now. She told my dad she wanted a divorce six months ago. The one phrase that is seared into my head is, “I don’t want you to judge me.” She cried when she said that my brother. He assured her that there was no way he could judge her because she did her best to raise us.
That phrase has been digging a hole in my brain since Tuesday. “I don’t want you to judge me.” My mother has always believed she was the smartest person in the room. Within the last three years she has attempted to shroud herself in secrecy, as if we wouldn’t notice. Whenever we ask who she was talking to or who she’s texting she always has a rude response. I have learned to decipher what she’s saying through her Freudian slips and I’m positive this is one of them. Why would we judge her if the sole reason she is filing for divorce is because she is unhappy? How could we ever fault her for that? It’s such a buffer statement coming from her, she has never cared what anyone has thought about her.
I have known my mother my whole life. This is her attempt to soften the blow of what’s to come. This will more than likely be a financially contentious divorce. If this is really about her being unhappy why the secrecy? Why wait until now to say something about being miserable for ten years?
In all reality, I saw this coming and in a previous blog I said I wished she would have left already. It’s obvious she’s miserable. The divorce itself is probably the best thing for both of them, aside from the headache of splitting up assets. At least now I know why my dad had that look in his eye when he was here.