Mr. Divorced

I spent the day watching football and cleaning. It is always tough cleaning the house. It brings back too many strong memories. As I clean I continuously find belongings of the children - child's sock behind the couch, my daughter's hair ties, my son's matchbox cars. They are painful reminders of what I have lost.

I haven't cleaned or even touched the children rooms since they left. I keep the doors shut. I don't know what is better - keep the rooms how they are to make me feel like I still have my family or move there belongings into the garage until they can be moved up to my wife.

Is it completely insensitive to work on making a "bachelors pad" before the divorce papers have even been signed? Probably so. My wife and children will be visiting next month anyway and I want to be respectful.

Still, these reminders are getting to me. They are under my skin.

I have spent the past few days watching Season 1 and 2 of the Showtime series Dexter. It is an action drama on the life of a serial killer who lives by "Harry's Code" only murdering those who murder. He lives two separate lives posing as a forensics blood splatter expert and family man when he is not chopping up the bodies of criminals.

Throughout the series Dexter claims he has no feelings. The odd thing is he has a never ending dialogue in his head analyzing and reanalyzing his decisions and values. He questions the guidance of his foster father, his identity and what makes him better than the serial killers he murders. You get the impression that deep inside Dexter really does have a conscience, however small it may be.

I am not a serial killer, but I find myself asking these same questions. I have questioned my belief system and morals. I have questioned who I really am. I have questioned if that person I became in marriage was truly me or who I want to be. I question my decisions. I question if I really want a divorce.

In Season 2 after killing his previously unknown serial killer brother (I am not making this stuff up) Dexter goes on a quest to find himself. He has learned that his foster father and hero lied to him. He questions everything that his father taught him. His life falls apart.

The process of divorce has made me question everything I was taught as a youth. My religion (Mormon) is intricately connected to the success of marriage. The failure of it is like pulling on a string that unravels the entire fabric.

At the end of Season 2 Dexter begins to have restored faith in his father's teachings. His life slowly falls back into place as he decides to let go of his questions and doubts and live the way he was taught by his father.

Is this my answer? Is it as simple as me going back to Church and living the same life I did while I was married?

Why am I here? I've asked myself this question many times recently. Having my family torn apart puts every aspect of my life into question. It surpasses religion. It goes deeper than where I go to Church on Sunday. I question my very existence.

I wish I had come up with this idea a couple months ago. I've been pinned up in my empty house searching for a creative outlet for my emotions. Tonight the thought of keeping an online log of my journey through divorce came to mind. I was immediately intrigued at the thought of keeping a completely anonymous and honest blog of my struggles. I would value a log to read over and learn from right now.

I just need validation that I am still here and alive.

My wife and I separated in October. After 3 1/2 years of a rocky marriage I finally pushed the decision to get a divorce. We had discussed divorce before. We had both used it as an empty threat in arguments. But I was the one to actually make the decision and stick with it. So naturally I am the bad guy.

We have 3 beautiful children. Our wonderful daughter came with her mother into the marriage. We had two additional children, a boy and girl. She has now taken them several states (over 2,000 miles) away to live with her parents.

I am alone. I work during the day and I sit in a empty living room at night. My life seems to have lost meaning. That meaning used to be raising my children. Those around me tell me I am still living for my children, but it doesn't feel that way anymore.