28. My least favorite holiday suddenly doesn't suck

[Sidebar. Alas, dear readers, I have not posted in some time, primarily because this drama that I have been writing about is, much to my surprise, still unfolding. I'm actually writing blog entries now which, chronologically speaking, won't be posted for some time. But the material is just too damn good not to share. We'll get there, and thanks for reading. Fini.]

I love Christmas, but I HATE New Year's.

I can think of nothing that I hate more than celebrating the passage of time. The only exception to this rule is if I am getting a bunch of presents with which to soften the blow. And then it's my birthday, so there's cake. And frosted baked goods make just about anything better.

I also hate the whole "having someone to kiss at midnight" schtick. So I was determined - obsessed, really - to enjoy this particular New Year's Eve.

Fortunately, my soon-to-be-ex husband's cousin's family - those intrepid angels who had intervened in various ways during the divorce process to keep everyone sane - had a plan. Thank God.

Their neighbors, a nice couple with two small children, were having a New Year's party on East Coast time. This meant we could celebrate the ball dropping at Times Square without keeping the kiddoes up until the "actual" midnight for us. And D had expressed no interest in having Little One to himself on this night - I figured there was some bellydancer orgy somewhere that he'd be afraid to miss.

We arrived at the house on time, as I am wont to do. I felt completely socially awkward at this point. Here I was, not-yet-divorced, feeling rather alone in the world, dancing with my daughter, at what was a pretty great party, actually. But I could barely say two words to any of the adults all around me. I felt like a pariah. What did I have in common with these "happy couples," all of whom were couples, me feeling like a 19th wheel?

So I danced with the kids, and watched Little One have the time of her life, dancing up a storm with these kids, big and small. When we counted down to the new year and watched the ball drop, I swept up my Little One and gave her a big kiss...and it seemed so fitting, given how much of what had been happening would directly benefit her in the long term. Me too, of course – but I figured her life would be very different now, for the better, by seeing her mother healthy and happy. Maybe a little lonely, sometimes too, but that was okay for now, as far as I was concerned.

In just a few days I would be single again. Then what? Admittedly, I didn't really think anything else would change. There would be no bellowing chorus, no blaring trumpets, no shaking earth. Just...another day, no longer married. I had my Become Single Again appointment: January 4 at 2:00 at the courthouse. D would not need to be there, and since he had no lawyer, it was pointless anyway. There was nothing more to be done. Paperwork was signed and ready for submission. And I had gotten everything I wanted. (Except for being able to completely write him out of Little One's life, a situation that I still fear I will have to change once D starts drinking again. Because he will.)

It was time, finally, to focus on me. For real, this time. Not care about D and his shenanigans, or about his relationships or anything that didn’t directly impact Little One’s health and safety. I promised myself that I would yank my head out of the sand for her, and would watch him like a hawk watches her prey, waiting for the deadly blow. All he had to do, I told myself, was get out of line once, and it was done. Well, at least it made me feel better to think that I could do that.

Anyway. About me. I needed to focus on me now. I would be the better for it. D just didn’t matter anymore. He really, really didn't. It was like he was transparent to me now, there was nothing there when I looked at him other than some shaggy-haired guy who used to mean everything.

You mean nothing, D, I thought. You are nothing. Goodbye to you, and to the marriage.

Hello, 2010. Nice to meet you.