About a month before Levi and I were married, he decided to get a tattoo. It was a tribal sort of tattoo and was of a circle that came together at three points. Somehow this circle was (maybe still is) very symbolic to him, and he told me that it was symbolic in terms of our relationship, our coming together.

I found myself thinking about that tattoo yesterday as I was driving on the freeway, alone. Since I've had Adrian I have found that I have all of my epiphanies, realizations, and profound ideas while driving — that's also where I do all of my problem solving. Driving to and from work, daycare, etc. is the only "me" time I really get anymore.

But, back to the tattoo. So I found myself thinking about his stupid tattoo — what it represented to Levi, what it represented to me — and I began to wonder what he must think of that tattoo now? (I mean, I've always said tattooing somebody's name on you is probably the stupidest thing you can do [unless that someone is your child], but I've never thought about a symbol.)

That's when my new epiphany happened. That tattoo looks like a cyclone. Our relationship was a cyclone. We came together in a frenzy, ran circles 'round and 'round until we spun totally out of control wreaking havoc on ourselves and everything around us. Then we broke apart, each person forever changed, each on a new path.

I'm a firm believer in everything happens for a reason, that there are no coincidences, that we are each put here for our own unique purposes; and every epiphany I have like this one brings me closer and closer to finding mine.

I don't think dating will ever be the same again. It seems impossible to not end up at least slightly jaded after going through the divorce "process." And it seems to me that that makes sense.

I loved Levi with all of my being. I was in such awe of him that it's astounding. I would have done anything and everything for him — and I did. We did everything together. We had big goals, dreams and ambitions; we worked together to achieve them.

So then, it is understandable that after watching those dreams all come crashing down, after understanding that your heart can literally feel broken, that after experiencing the most devastating feelings that one can possibly feel, that you wouldn't want to set yourself up for that again.

I feel sometimes that I am fast-forwarding my current relationship as it happens; like I am writing a book and in a sense, writing our ending. This helps me to feel in control. Being in control is my new comfort zone.

I really like this new guy a lot. I've dated him for three months, which, since Levi, is a new record for me.

Thing is, it doesn't feel like it did before. Only on a rare, fleeting occasion do I ever feel that giddy euphoria, "new love" feeling. Only on occasion do I feel like I'll even care if he leaves.

It's as if I suspect he will.

No matter how hard I try, I can not let my guard down. I'm not sure if I will ever be able to give someone the power to break my heart again. And maybe that's better. Maybe a heart can't be broken twice.

If there is one thing I have learned from this experience of divorce, it is how to disengage, or as I call it, 'The art of disengagement'.

More often than not separations and subsequent divorces are far less than civil and almost all of us have found ourselves totally losing it, at least once.

Personally, I've gone ballistic more times than I even care to admit. This experience is such an emotional roller coaster that the only thing I found comparable to it is pregnancy.

I mean really, one second I'd be all smiles; happy to be single, grateful to be starting over, etc. Then I'd be weepy; missing him and not knowing what I was going to do without him. Then I'd morph into uber bitch mode and scream, yell, and one time I even broke something.

It was an exhausting cycle: happy — sad — bitch.

I think they call that spinning in circles. I distinctively remember actually feeling dizzy; I remember consciously acknowledging this cycle as it was happening, but I couldn't figure out how to break it.

Then it hit me...about five minutes ago.

I'm not the only one going through this. HE's going through it too. Levi is engaged in his own vicious cycle, spinning his wheels, along with me.
I've realized that the longer I play along with him — and by play along I mean take his phone calls, deal with his family, read and / or respond to his e-mails — the longer he'll play along with me.

One of us has to end it and it looks like it's going to be me. As one of my dear friends just told me, "It's like playing a game of catch, if you put the ball down and stop playing, what's he going to do?"

As is obvious from my previous posts I've had some struggles with dealing with Levi's family. It seems that just as the point came that I was very comfortable and very happy with never having to deal with them again — they barged back into my life making all sorts of demands of me and my time.

I thank you all for your advice and no doubt, I took a lot of it to heart. After writing about how they asked for me to keep their visits with Adrian a secret, and then reading your responses I came to the realization that I just don't have the emotional energy to expel on them.

I called Levi's sister and told her that the whole scene was making me uncomfortable and that I felt that they should deal with Levi, be upfront and honest about their feelings, and then they were more than welcome to see Adrian.

His sister became irate and hung up the phone. Ten minutes later I got this email:

Faith:

I appreciate that there are things you want from us that you have not received. I cannot get an email one day asking when we will see Adrian, giving the dates that you will be away and the next day getting a call that you don't know if you want us to see him.

You are not the only one with big problems and big issues to deal with. If you decide you want us to see Adrian without out any drama, fine. If not, then we will all have to deal with the consequences, most of all Adrian.

When Adrian grows up and wants to know why he has no relationship with his father's family, believe me, you will not be able to put it only on us.

I'm so tired of the shady nonsense that goes on in Levi's side of the family. As I wrote before, Levis' mom emailed and asked to see Adrian, then Levi's sister, Erica, also called and asked. We spoke and everything seemed fine.

I still had that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach, but decided that it was just because of all of the drama that has transpired between us in the past few years.

Then I got another phone call from Erica. She sounded stressed out and out of breath, and asked if I could talk for a second. I said "sure." She reiterated again that she wanted to see Adrian — that her mother really wants to see Adrian — but that they were worried about the way that Levi would react.

She told me that they cannot control what Levi does, or in this case does not do, and that they decided that it is best that Levi not be told that they are taking an interest in Adrian.

Translation: Don't tell Levi that we are talking to you or your son.

I suppose that I really don't care. I mean, I believe that Adrian is really, at this point, my son and who he visits with is none of Levi's business. However, I'm not interested in anymore of their drama. And, knowing them, Levi will find out and inevitably somehow I will end up the bad guy.

So, I'm back to being torn again. Do I just play along and allow Adrian to develop a relationship with his aunt and grandmother behind his father's back? Or do I tell them to work out their issues with Levi — be upfront and honest — and then we'll talk?

What do you think?

Levi's mom emailed me the other day. She hasn't emailed me since the day after my Adrian was born. It was in that email that she told me that my son was "nothing that I should be proud of" that he "should have never been born" and that I should "give him up for adoption immediately" and that if I didn't, I shouldn't come "crying to them for help." She said all of that, amongst other things.

Needless to say, there was no love lost between the two of us.

So anyway, she emailed me last week, totally out of left field to tell me that she now feels that Adrian should have contact with them (herself and her husband) and she'd like me to bring Adrian to see them on Saturday.

My initial thought was to say something along the lines of f*#k you, you've done nothing but be horrible people for two years. I mean, not only did they condone their son's really shitty behavior but they also allowed us to suffer. They haven't offered a dime in child support to us or an ounce of help.

Seriously, they haven't even bought my son a t-shirt since he's been born, and they are more than capable financially. So when I say they've done nothing, they have really done nothing.

But instead of instantly reacting, I decided to think about it. I decided to think about what was really pissing me off. I came up with this:

Their behavior toward me after Levi left really hurt me.

The fact that they refused to acknowledge my son really hurt me.

The fact that they are more than capable to contribute to my son's life but didn't really hurt me.

The fact that they condoned their son's behavior towards myself and our son really hurt me.

See a lot of me in there?

The conclusion I came up with is that its really all about...me. I'm angry with them because of the way they treated me.

I distinctly remember the pills. When Levi left me, I couldn't sleep and my doctor prescribed me some pretty powerful sleeping pills — even though I was pregnant...

Sometimes when I have a calm moment, which are few and far between, I find myself thinking of all the things that have changed in my life over the last year. It reminds me of that quote, "The only thing that ever stays the same is change." I had never realized before how true that really is. Nothing stays the same — even the best things.

My divorce practically started on the eve of my son's birth. Several emotions all crammed into one — all conflicting — rendered me an absolute mess.

I remember thinking I would never be happy again. I remember worrying about how I was going to support a baby by myself. I remember scrounging for change in between the couch cushions for diapers, thinking things couldn't possibly be any worse.

I remember feeling abandoned and hopeless. I couldn't see the light.

I remember one night — which I haven't told anybody about until now — I was lying in bed, in a house all by myself, totally exhausted from being up all day and night with an infant, all by myself.

I remember realizing that it was cold and walking over to the thermostat to see that the temperature was dropping. No heat, no money for oil. I dressed the baby in warm clothes and put him in bed with me. I remember lying there, wanting to cry, but nothing would come out. I was too exhausted for tears.

It was then that I remembered the pills. My doctor prescribed me some pretty powerful sleeping pills when Levi took off — even though I was pregnant. He also gave me an anti-depressant.

I hadn't taken very many of them, but for some reason I still had them in the cabinet. I remember thinking to myself that I should just go downstairs and take those pills.

I wanted to give up.

I hadn't had any time off in 15 days and was really looking forward to my weekend as I got into my car to leave work. I picked Adrian up from daycare and he was happier than ever to see me.

He gave me this huge smile and came rushing toward me, arms wide open. That boy makes my heart melt. Every time I see him it's magical.

We went home, had dinner, and crashed early with plans to meet some friends at the beach the next day. The next morning, birds were singing and the sun was shining.

We arrived at the beach, got a prime spot, and Adrian began to play in the sand as I read a magazine. Watching my sweet little boy, I reflected on how truly blessed I am.

It was shaping up to be a fabulous day.

Then, mid-afternoon, Adrian plopped down in my lap so I could put sunscreen on him.

That's when I saw it — a nasty, whitish bug running around in my son's hair. I gasped and parted his beautiful blond locks to reveal another one ... and then another.

At that point, I shouted an expletive, and called my friend Rachel over. She confirmed it. Adrian had head lice.

Gross.

So, the day at the beach was now ruined. I was in hysterics and on the phone calling Adrian's doctor. Rachel was picking through my really thick, really long hair, in search of the disgusting bugs. She didn't find any.

The doctor told me the name of what to put on my son's head, and added that I should calm down. I shoved Adrian in the car and we drove to the drugstore.

I got the treatment and read the directions, which say that it's ideal to have someone (a buddy) look through your hair with a magnifying glass to locate and remove any of the nits, or little eggs.

Well, I'm Adrian's lice buddy, but who is mine? No one, that's who.

Rachel lives way too far away, and there's no way in hell I'm calling up anyone else and asking them to remove lice eggs from my hair.

What's a single mom to do?

Last night I dreamed of Levi again. This time I dreamed that I was in Los Angeles with my friends, and that Levi came to visit us.

It was just like old times, with drinks, conversation, laughter, and music. Except that I was not the old, naive me, I was the new me, the older, wiser, mother of an almost two year old boy whose father abandoned him. That version of me.

I like her so much more.

In the dream we are at this party and we finally sit down to have dinner. Levi is sitting across from me, and I am struck with the realization that I don't feel anything; no pain, no anger, no emotion what so ever. I marvel at that for a second, and then feel giddy.

Then, he stares at me. Stares right into my eyes.

And it hits me.

That disgusting raw feeling, that feeling like you've been socked in the stomach; it’s the feeling that comes when you have pain, disappointment, anger, pity, and hurt all rolled into one.

Then the tears come and I try to hold them back as I excuse myself from the table.

In my dream, Levi followed me outside and we talked. In my dream he told me that he was sorry that he failed me, that he missed me.

In reality, I know he would never do that.

I woke up again thinking, What the hell is the matter with me?

Then I realized that I've done this before. See here.

It seems that since my divorce, every time I have an opportunity to have a somewhat serious relationship with another man — a man I really like — I dream of Levi, and I start having serious doubts.

I'm glad that I've noticed the pattern. It helps that I’ve been blogging about this, so there’s a record, and I can recognize these patterns.

Even if I'm still unclear as to what it all means.