He won't respond to my texts or calls, and documentation of that was sent to Imani.
I've tried to engage him physically and been rejected, to my complete shame and embarrassment.
I made a couple's therapy appointment, set the reminders inthreecalendars, and he didn't show up. As a matter of fact, he was home and was confused about where I was.
Sure, I could have asked him that night why he didn't showup. Did he not see the reminders on his phone? Did he not remember me reminding him that morning?
But the thing is, Atlas is not my child; he is my husband. He is a fully grown man, and I cannot just hold his hand and walk him through this life while I'm trying to actually raise and take care of our two children.
The hardest pill to swallow is that I cannot force him to change. Imani told me, from years of experience, that change has to come from within—it has to be wanted.
She's seen men truly dig deep to change for their wives and earn them back.
Most of the time, they make excuses, they dig in stubbornly, and they divorce the women who love them because they think there's nothing wrong.
Then months later comes the regret, the begging, the pleading, the talks of going to therapy to fix things when they finally realize too late that pride and ego cost them the one who truly cared.
Knowing all of this, that my situation is not unique, doesn't help me. It sure as hell doesn't stop the guilt from flaring inside of me like poison, the questions spinning around my head.
Could I have done more? Should I have laid down in front of his truck and forced him to talk? Should I have tied him to a chair and made him listen to me? What else could I have done?
And why should I even lower myself to that?
I'm the woman, the mom, the wife, the martyr.
It all should just fall to me, all the housework, all the childcare, all the emotional labor, while Atlas can just check in and out whenever he wants.
I will never,ever,lower myself to be the woman begging for her husband to give her a scrap of attention. Not anymore. Not when I have two boys who arewatching.
I will be the example. I will show them that they deserve not only love, but respect from their future partners.
They deserve effort, not the bare minimum.
I've tried and tried and tried to make this marriage work,I've stripped myself raw to do it, and all I've learned is that it cannot work when only one person is actually trying.
So, maybe this separation filing will be a wake-up call for Atlas, but at this point, I'm done trying to be a wife to a man who doesn't care about me.
All I want is for him to be a father to his sons.
Bare fucking minimum.
Chapter Eleven
Wendy
"Wow, mama!" Noah gasps as he climbs into my car after school.
"Do you like it?" I ask, turning my head back and forth so he can really see it, the fresh cut light against my shoulders.
Noah nods eagerly. "You look beautiful!"
My heart warms, "Thank you, baby. Close the door, we have to go get your brother, and then I'm dropping you off at Grandmom's."
Noah shuts the door and puts his seatbelt on, and I pull away from the curb to head to the middle school.
I make a quick stop at Noah and Liam's favorite burger place first and Noah cheers in the backseat when he sees, making me smile.
Noah’s snacking on his fries when we walk inside the middle school gym where Liam's team is practicing.
