My Worst Super Bowl, Remembered

Super Bowl Weekend

It was Super Bowl weekend and I was in the beginning of some of the most painful days, weeks, months, years of my life.  It was about a week and a half after my husband of many years had informed me he was leaving.  He had said, simply, “I have to go.”   He denied that there was anyone else, stating merely that he was not happy and was never going to be happy.

And, like Forrest Gump, that’s all I have to say about that.

He had decided to leave, but I had begged him to stay, regardless of his decision.  I guess I was buying time.   I was still in Stage One of trying to get him to change his mind, not accepting that the marriage was in Stage Four:  non-operable, treatment resistant and terminal.

A few days before Super Bowl Sunday my husband went on a pre-planned, pre-paid SCUBA  trip which had been booked about six weeks before he  broke up with me – really that’s what it felt like — but I digress . . .  The trip itself was not completely  out of character  because he belongs to a club and went on trips a couple of times a year.  What was odd was that he had scheduled the trip during Super Bowl weekend.   What was completely crazy was that he was still going on vacation after telling me he was leaving me and while I was a sobbing heap on the floor.

The Flu

What’s worse, my kids, who are unusually healthy, freakishly healthy — I mean I have five kids and I only remember dealing with two ear infections — ever —  had come down with the flu, high fevers and all.

All five children had the flu.    All five.  Flu.  They were too sick to even take to the store. I had to get my Dad to come over while I went grocery shopping.

I was housebound with five sick children.  My husband had gone to the Bahamas. 

Huh.  Signs of things to come.

Although I was crying all the time (I told the kids I was sick, too) having  him out of the house for a few days gave me  random moments of clarity which tapped into my common sense.

Long story short:  It was during Super Bowl weekend that I uncovered uncontroverted evidentiary support leading me to the conclusion that my husband was not in fact on a trip with his  SCUBA Club.  To the contrary, he was on a romantic island vacation with another woman.

Isn’t it romantic?

Ouch.

Like how I lawyered  that up?  It’s a defense mechanism of mine to deal with painful topics.  But in straight talk, I found out that my husband, who had simply announced after double digits of marriage, “I have to go” was on a beach getaway with another woman, a jaunt he had booked a month before he informed me he was leaving me.   He was frolicking in the sand and surf  with someone new, while I was heartbroken and housebound with five children suffering from the flu. (Rhyme unintended but I kinda like it so I’m keeping it.)

Stupid Super Bowl weekend.   That was a long weekend.  A long game.   And the daggone Super Bowl happens every year and I get  a little reminder of some of my worst days.

Just Me With  . . .  ghosts from Super Bowl’s past.

This happened some time ago.  It’s all back story, the abridged version.  I  have a memory too good for my own good, see The Twilight Zone — Again?  Seriously?, when I reflected on the date my divorce became final and damn near wrecked the car.   When I’ve gone through something difficult, especially something which coincides with a holiday or special event,  it is hard to ignore, try as I might.  See A Sad and Disturbing True Halloween Story.

I’m better now.  I’m not crying about it, at least not about him leaving me.  It took years and thousands of dollars, but my divorce is final and he has remarried.  He did not marry the Bahamas woman, in case you were wondering, that relationship didn’t work out —  and that’s all I have to say about that.

The pain has decreased over time, but that does not negate the fact that it was a super-duper crappy  Super Bowl weekend back then, by anyone’s standards,  and I still remember it — like women remember (but don’t feel) labor, like people acknowledge (but don’t celebrate) the anniversary of a death.   It’s  just there.    And it’s okay to acknowledge it — so that I’m not so hard on myself for being where I am now, and also so that I can celebrate how far I have come.   Plus, one day I might even write a book.

I know I’m better off without him.   But it’s like having a huge life sucking tumor removed — in the end it’s  all for the best, but would it have killed somebody to give me a little anesthesia?  That mess hurt. 

I’m just sayin’ . . .

A couple of weeks after that Super Bowl, one of the kids  announced,  My Daddy Moved Out.

 

16 responses

  1. I hope you do write a book!

    1. Well, that’s just the best comment, especially coming from you. Thank you!

  2. I enjoyed today’s post very much. Thanks for sharing.

    Enjoy writing? Join us today.

    Writers Wanted

  3. Wow…what a horrible weekend. sounds like you need to make a new tradition for superbowl. weekend.

    1. Yeah, it was ridiculously, unspeakably bad. And I’ve made some new traditions, but it’s okay to remember things like this — without the tears — and realize I’m still standing.

      1. Amen. I have bad days…I’m sure I’ll write about some as they are coming up fairly soon.

  4. Naturally there’d be a little residual salt left in that wound…
    Superbowl has to trigger a little emotion, that was pretty damn sucky. Five kids with the flu….oy! Wow – he operated with the same kind of empathy my ex has/had.

    You’ve come so far, you have superbowl weekend to reflect that growth each year…
    You are an amazing woman, I’m with lostonthemountains – make superbowl something for you!

    1. Thank you so much. You nailed it, a complete lack of empathy. I think that now, looking back, I see it more than ever. At the time I was so beat down I couldn’t think and I was so alone. So a bit a reflection now is good for me. Thanks again for your kind words.

  5. Holy crap… OK, time for new Super Bowl memories… Write that book, make the NYT’s best seller’s list on Super Bowl Sunday and throw a kick-ass Super Bowl/Yay Me party that same day!

    1. Ha! That would be PERFECT! Certainly something to work toward. Thanks so much.

  6. It sucks, agree. Leaving an abusive relationship was so painfully hard and scary. But as I found out it’s better to alone than to be in a horrible relationship with someone who doesn’t appreciate you.

  7. [...] see, the “other woman” who I’d just found out about a couple of weeks prior, see My Worst Superbowl, Remembered, lived in another city.  She planned to move to our town but that hadn’t happened yet.  So [...]

  8. Wowzers! LOVE this! Thanks for sharing this with all of us. When’s the book coming?!? ;-)

    1. Oh thank you. I don’t know when the book is coming but thank you for the support. I’m working on something fictional now but the memoir might be mixed in.

  9. […] an island vacation which I’d recently discovered he’d taken with a lady friend.  See My Worst Super Bowl, Remembered.   I intended to use the suitcase to pack some of his […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,241 other followers

%d bloggers like this: