But I Did Everything Right

"We did everything right, and yet it all went wrong anyway."

This observation, given by my cousin in the middle of a conversation about how hard life is now, hit me like a ton of bricks. We did do everything right! We got good grades, we finished school, we started families ...

But here I am at 50, alone. A single mom - divorced after 15 years so my ex could pursue his new plan for life, one that didn’t include his original family. The house we poured tens of thousands of dollars into? The house that would be worth at least double what we paid for it now and would solve all of my money issues? That’s gone - a casualty of the divorce. So I’m working full-time while being a full-time single parent and renting, with the reality that I’ll never own anything of my own and the terror that I’ll end up fully destitute someday staring me down every night when I try to sleep.

But I did everything right.

I left college and put all my plans on hold to be a stay-at-home mom. I spent twelve years having and raising children - twelve years I wouldn’t trade for anything. I homeschooled and I baked bread and I cooked from scratch and I spent every waking moment creating magical childhoods for our children. That time wasn’t lost - it was full of life and love and meaning.

But I lived those years with the belief that we were building something lasting - a shared future. I thought we were a team, that the sacrifices I made were investments in our life together. What I didn’t know was that the foundation I trusted was never as solid as I believed.

And now, instead of being valued for the care and work I gave, I’m left with nothing to show for it in terms of security. Everything I gave was treated as if it counted for nothing.

I’m not supposed to be bitter.

But I am.

I’m so incredibly bitter.

Someone once said that anger is just sadness with nowhere to go. If that's true, perhaps I'm desperately sad underneath. But all I feel is a smoldering rage that is building. As I drive to work, I glare at people taking walks, jealous of their freedom. I look at my pile of books I wish I had time to read, and I want to throw them across the room in frustration. If one more person checking in at work shares about the time they have to pursue their hobbies or their freedom in general I might just explode.

I work myself to the bone, and that wouldn't be so bad if I actually thought I'd get something out of it. But in this country? In this economy? There's no chance.

What do I do now? Where do I go?

It’s too late to create a career for myself that would earn enough to truly live - I already tried. I re-enrolled in college while working full-time and parenting full-time as a single mom. I stayed up late and dedicated myself to doing well. But the programs that could lead to decent salaries had time commitments that were impossible for someone who also had a job. And I can’t help but think about how I left college when I was young - when I didn’t have to work - all because I believed in a promised future that never came.

When the divorce happened, I was so damaged, so riddled with PTSD from what I had been through, that I just finished it as fast as I could. Why? Because that’s what he wanted, and because he threatened to take the kids if I didn’t. I was a victim of multiple forms of abuse, so I wasn’t thinking clearly anymore, and I thought he held all the cards. Out of terror, I did what he said - because keeping my kids was all that mattered.

And it was.

But I wish I’d known to call a lawyer. I wish I’d known to fight for what I could have gotten.  I wish someone had gotten in my face and directed me before I lost the future I couldn’t possibly realize I was handing away. I probably could have saved the house that he put into foreclosure on purpose. I could have sued for everything I lost.

That’s the thing I guess I’m most bitter about, as I take walks through the beautiful village near my house and look at all the families living lives I’ll never achieve. I watch from the outside as people live lives in homes they own, with two parents working together - knowing that despite doing all the right things, I still was so deeply wronged.

It’s getting late, and I should try to sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll have to drag myself to work and spend another long day wishing I was home. I'll spend another long day wishing I could change the past. I'll spend another long day trying to right a wrong that can't be fixed.

Sometimes, you can do everything right but still end up wronged. They don't tell you that in school.