After the Second told me she wanted a divorce and the kids went back home to their mother. I moved back into the laundry room where we had their bunk bed. We started talking about what our separation would look like. A few days later my Doctor cleared me to return to work. My plan up until the final fight was not to return to trucking. I was going to find work at home. There was a fair amount available, and I knew what I needed to support my household. Plans change though.
I looked around some trucking recruiting websites for about ten minutes, and I applied for a position with a company that I had wanted to work for while I was still driving before my injury. From that initial start to having a job, was a total lapsed time of about half an hour.
I’m a big fan of skilled labor. I see a lot of college graduates sitting around unemployed, or working jobs outside of their field. I love education, I love my education, I hope to go back to school someday and finish it. We have this fiction in our society where education is the only path to success and more dangerously that it is a guaranteed path to success. It just isn’t true. I am far more employable with my CDL than I would be with my biology degree. This will come up again later.
It didn’t take long to be on the bus with a scant few possessions ready to start my new life.
I no longer lived anywhere again. I wouldn’t for several months. This is a form of homelessness though almost indistinguishable from the life I live on a daily basis now. I was prepared and I knew it would not only be manageable but would allow me to actually prosper.
I was depressed though. I had to start my life over again and although I knew it would be easier now without having to worry about all of my money being spent on weed and what wasn’t taken from me without me knowing what happened to it.
I shaved my beard. I didn’t feel like myself, and that was okay. I knew as I shaved my beard, that by the time I could look into the mirror and see my real face again I would be whatever I was going to be at the end of this whole thing.
I was absolutely correct.
My agreement with the Second was that I would continue to support the house for three months. When the money started to roll in I sent the majority to her for that purpose. As far as I knew that’s what my money was being used for. It was incredibly naïve of me.
There where a few things, things from my children, the military, and my trip to Argentina and Antarctica as well as my cat’s ashes (he died not long after I left and I will do a memorial post for him soon) that were agreed that I would come back and get.
I sent the lion’s share of every check to her for about 7 weeks, before I happened through town. I figured that I may as well stop and save her the trouble of sending me these things, we can be done with each other. I had a friend come down to the Walmart and pick me up, the same friend who looked the house over for us in the first place. We went to the house, and I saw everything in the house boxed up and ready to go. She was moving out of the house I was paying for.
I messaged the Second and my stepdaughter both, the only thing I asked was “Where is my cat.” The only thing I cared about was my cat. I came to find out that the bills had not been getting paid, the rent had not been getting paid. I had no idea what was happening to the money I was sending.
My agreement was that I would pay for the household expenses for three months. The Second made it clear that she didn’t have to tell me anything about where she was going or what I was doing and I better keep sending her money or she was going to take me for all I was worth in alimony. True colors have a way of always revealing themselves in the end.