So I finally met my severe ADD ex at the counselor’s, 18 months after divorce. We hadn’t spoken since he moved out.
The saddest at the meeting was that we both grieve so much. Both loved the other. Both would have wanted the relationship to last.
I struggle to accept the truth, that we can’t agree on anything beyond that. He doesn’t validate my experience of our last years together, he insists the main problem was he felt unloved and unwanted. I was exhausted, doing it all and worrying sick about him. In my understanding, untreated severe ADD caused his anxiety and depression. He blames me for the illness and pretends ADD wasn’t important. He claims I made him suicidal. How he’s subsequently treated me has taken quite a toll on my general health and I’ve been hurting terribly for two years, which he has done nothing about due to inertia. It makes me nauseous and I almost threw up at the counselor’s. She offered a bucket.
At the meeting, however, it seemed like he did understand some of my woes. He also seemed to take some responsibility for them. But as I’ve seen countless times, he often gives the impression of agreeing on things in the moment to please somebody (the counselor?) but later denies it. There have never been consistent agreements, they slide with shame. Perhaps I had a false hope of being understood. I left just as raw with pain as I came. The memories of the meeting are chaotic and hurtful.
He’s ruined my trust, my health, my sense of security. I know I have to accept it and move on, but right now I’m frozen in pain and disbelief. It’s like a nightmare, and there’s no waking up.
He’d said he wants a friendly and casual coparent arrangement, but at the end of the meeting I suppose he’d lost hope of it, seeing the state I was in. He has the face of somebody I’ve loved half my life. And he seems out of his mind. There is no discernible logic behind his words or actions, except that of avoiding fear and shame. He’ll twist reality to whatever shape to avoid it.
How does one accept this and move on? It would have been easier if I didn’t still feel bound to him by a thousand imperceptible threads of loyalty and intimacy. He was the love of my life, ally and closest friend. He cried, and I knew he longed for me, as I longed for him. He decided to sacrifice me rather than admit his mind is fried.
It’s also disturbing he’s a mental health expert. It makes the loss of trust worse, I think. He’s so terribly weak, still frightening. And speaking with the voice of authority, he still can’t persuade me to believe him.
