"I should have left years ago."

My 81-year-old mother said that to me for the second time this morning, and it's made me sad. She takes full responsibility for her choice to stay with my father, a difficult man. But one of the reasons she didn't leave him years and years ago is me.

Makes me especially sad to think that her sacrifice on my behalf wasn't a complete success. Witness to her marriage, I was afraid even to admit a desire to have a husband.

And when I finally managed to do that, the man I chose to marry turned out to be very much like my father (imagine that). And now I'm working on getting divorced.

On the other hand, I did grow up with a father who loves me and who was present and responsible, if sometimes unpleasant. And I've had a chance to see what it's like when an unhappy marriage goes on and on and on and on.... It's been educational.

It hurts to see my mother unhappy, especially at this stage of her life. But hers is also quite the cautionary tale.

I don't have a daughter to explain my divorce to, or worry about feeding and buying school uniforms for. At this point in my life that's a blessing.

But I do have myself to keep faith with, and I know I don't want to become an octogenarian regretting a long marriage. As sad as my mother's situation makes me, it also gives me more courage to push ahead through divorce.

Thanks, Mom. For everything.

Apparently, my ex, Levi, caught wind of my lunch date with his sister, Erica. He called last night, said he wanted to have a "civil conversation." (I really must remember to send the man a dictionary with the word "civil" highlighted.)

Then he rambled on and on about how he "isn't going to do anything for Adrian just yet" and how he will "never go through me to have a relationship with Adrian, that he must wait until Adrian is old enough to formulate a relationship with him himself." Same old, same old.

Then he switched gears and told me that he is going to "come take him from me." More of the same. Listening to him now, I can't believe that I ever got myself so upset over his bullshit.

This time I simply told him, "Thank you for the update" and added, "It was nice catching up with you." Done.

Then I met Erica in the city for lunch yesterday. We met at the cafe outside of the zoo, ate, and then wandered around the animal exhibits. She tried to engage Adrian a few times, but he was way more interested in the monkeys and sea lions than in her.

It was only at the end of our day that she brought up Levi, and...their mother. (I still can't decide which one of them I loathe more.) Apparently, the mom wants to see Adrian but she doesn't want to see me. Levi has told his family that he is okay with them "filling in for him" — holding a place for him, until he is ready to be a parent. I told her that it wasn't the right time to talk about it.

But seriously, what can I do but shake my head in disbelief at the utter dysfunction that is their family?

Somewhere in my house is a book entitled Letting Go of the Person You Used to Be by Lama Surya Das. I bought it three years ago when I lost my job and my last pregnancy within a few weeks of each other.

When the job went, that was kind of okay. I was about to take up a new vocation: motherhood. When the baby went, that was utterly not okay, and I've been trying ever since, in ways healthy and not so, to get over it.

I need to reread that book. Fifty-one weeks ago I was surprised to hear myself telling Edgar yes, I do want a divorce. I still haven't filed the papers.

I can talk about keeping the health insurance and the expense and trouble of divorce, but at least some of my delay is a result of my unwillingness to let go of a bad marriage.

Doggone it, took me 40 years to find a husband. So he wasn't the best husband, but he was — uh, still is — my husband.

It also took me quite a while to find and buy my house, which I don't really seem to be able to afford right now. 

In truth, I haven't been able to afford it for quite a while.

It has been pointed out to me that if I don't figure out how to pay for, or to sell, or to rent out the house, it'll be taken from me. Then I'll have to let go. For the past several months I've been working on letting go of the conviction that I must and can hold on to my home.

I've put less effort into the idea of releasing Ed.

But I feel my tightly clenched hands being pried open, so to speak. I'm beginning to accept the possibility that it's time to let someone else (who can afford it) love this house.

Maybe the practice will help me to let go of my marriage.

My husband served in Iraq for a few months back when our first child was a young baby. I was really proud of him for what he was doing even though I was scared out of my mind for the dangerous situation he was getting into and also because I was really new at the whole mommy thing and was about to do it all on my own.

When he came home he was different. I know you've all probably heard about how people go away to war and then come back somehow changed, but unless you've experienced it firsthand then you probably have no idea what it's like.

It's not like in the movies where he sits in a dark corner and smokes cigarettes while grumbling about the ills of war. Instead it's as if he went away one man and then came back another.

The only way I can describe it is that he came home himself, but a different version I had never seen before. Less patient. More prone to anger.

One minute he would demand attention and the next minute he would shut down and want to be left alone. He laughed less and was much more critical of everyone around him.

He's gone to counseling and the therapist told him that although he probably has some PTSD issues; chances are he'll bounce right back eventually. That was five years ago, and most of the time I still feel like he's a stranger.

What kind of woman leaves a husband who changes after serving his country? He may be a different man, but he changed because he went off to fight for the liberties I enjoy daily.

I struggle with this all the time. Is it his fault that he's different? Why can't I adapt to his changes? Should I have to?

After all of this back and forth nonsense with my ex's family, I've made a lunch date with Erica, Levi's sister. I came to this decision when I was discussing the dilemma with my best friend. She has dealt with a similar situation with her ex-in-laws, so she is my "go to" girl on these issues.

She told me that she had decided to embrace the ex-in-laws and, "treat them the way I would have liked them to treat me," and that it had really worked out well for her.

Heck, all of this arguing isn't working — so I figured, why not give it a try.

Besides, Erica isn't as bad as the rest of them. In fact, she's an absolute dream compared to the rest of them.

I decided that it would be best if we have a quick bite to eat in the park (as Adrian is somewhat of a monster in restaurants), and afterwards go take a walk through the Central Park Zoo.

Adrian, like all kids, loves the zoo. He runs around and says "hi" to everyone and everything. Like, "Hi, monkey!" and "Hi, man." It's absolutely adorable.  With that kind of distraction I don't think that there is any way that Erica and I can get into an argument.

Of course then I have all of these paranoid notions that she will see how perfect, cute, handsome, charming, and just absolutely amazing my son is and try to take him. To that my mom says, "You've got to stop thinking that everybody wants to steal your baby. Nobody in their right mind would steal a child." And she's right.

But we are talking about Levis' family here, remember?

I took introduction to psychology in college so I have a general idea of what the term "passive aggressive" means. It wasn't until recently, however, that I really got to witness it in person.

Apparently my husband has decided that this is his newest way to complain about the things I do without actually complaining about them.

Here are a couple of examples, which could easily be compiled with a slew of others for a "passive-aggressive husband reference manual":

The other day my kids and I went out to lunch with a couple of other moms and their kids. I don't eat out for lunch all the time, and this was an impromptu get-together. I had packed my husband a lunch that morning for him to take to work so he had leftovers. When he gets home he tells me this: "The guys at work said, 'Let me get this straight...she gets to eat out for lunch and you have to eat leftovers? Man, that's messed up!' Ha-ha!"

Translation: He's ticked off that I got to eat out and he had to eat leftovers.

My husband recently did some volunteer work with the guys at church that involved a lot of physical labor and when he got home he said, "Bob told me he was so glad that his wife and daughter were out of town because after we finished up he was going to go home and take a long nap without interruption. Ha-ha!"

Translation: He wants to take a nap but knows that we already agreed that he would take the kids so I could get some work done. He's hoping I suggest he takes a long nap and I'll just stay up until two in the morning working.

How do I know it's all passive aggressive? These comments don't even go with the flow of conversation. They come out of nowhere, and he gives a long pause afterward as though he's waiting for me to fall to my knees and beg his forgiveness for going out to eat with my friends/not offering him a four hour nap/whatever else I do that ticks him off.

My father showed up at my house yesterday. In case you don't remember, this is my father's story.

Along with being my father, he is also a drug addict and master manipulator. Until yesterday he was living down south, in and out of homeless shelters, in and out of psych wards, in and out of various churches and occasionally he slept on the street.

I have tried, and my family has tried, to help him several times; each time, we got screwed over.

Upon seeing him this time, I got such an instant headache that I thought my head was going to explode. I sort of just stood there with my mouth hanging open.

He explained to me that he was there because he wants to get help. He asked me to help him get help.

I called my mother and told her what was going on. (They divorced when I was a baby.) She was very short and obnoxiously said to me, "The only reason that you would do anything to help him is because you want attention. He has other people to help him, let them do it." I told her I had to go.

I was stunned by the way she treated me; by the tone of her voice, and by what she said. I tried to let it go but it kept creeping back into my consciousness as I was taking my father in and out of various doctors' offices.

I realized that I think my mother may feel guilty. I'm sure if I chose a total jerk to be the father of my child (which, actually, I did) — a total jerk that can't get his life together and is a huge burden on me — I'd feel badly about it also.

I wonder if this is a common problem for divorced parents. Does anyone else have any experience with this?

When my husband proposed to me a dozen years ago, he said, "You elevate me." I knew it was hyperbole, but it was pretty romantic. (And I said, "Right back at ya.")

"Together we can charm them all," he said, "We'll make our entrances. You'll whisper to me what to say."

And what not to say. That was our little arrangement. And it worked well for 10 years.

Now it's Year 12, and my whispered cues are just annoyances to him. I know we didn't write this anywhere in a pre-nup — hell, we don't have a pre-nup. But wasn't that part of our "deal"?

When did he stop taking my cues?

When did my telling him to switch ties or switch topics become perceived as an attack?

When did he start calling me a control freak?

He's fired me as his stage prompter. Now my job is doing damage control the next day.

It used to be okay when it was just us, and we made love on the kitchen stool when he would sneak home for lunch.

But now we are a family, and I have to defend more than my husband's choice of words, or choice of tie.

Now it's the whole fabric I must defend. It's the franchise. He and I have had a tacit agreement for years: He would glad hand, and I would maintain the franchise.

By that I mean, it was up to me to make sure our kids got haircuts, shook hands with grown-ups, and didn't run in the pool area.

It was my job to make sure everything looked good to the outside world. All he had to do was show up and — literally or figuratively — pat everyone on the head.

Quaint as it seems, it's worked for us, for a decade. But now he complains about the kids' haircuts. He doesn't care if they shake hands or not. He doesn't even know what the pool rules are, let alone have any interest in enforcing them.

I don't have kids, I have pets. And they became another kind of shattered family after my split with Edgar. I thought getting him out of the house was the hard part. But after he was gone, I saw he was right.

I wasn't making enough money to take care of the house and the dogs, cats, birds and fish. I never said anything to him about alimony, but I did ask him for animal support. After all, it was Ed who had brought most of them home.

He said he thought he might be able to kick in something, if he could be sure it would be used for critter care.

I changed the locks the day he was supposed to be out. But he broke in one afternoon and left $30 on the table.

That's been the extent of it, unless you count his telling me to try not to let any of the animals die.

What a sweetheart.

Halfheartedly, I asked around to see if anybody wanted any of my critters. I had hoped to keep them all, but when the filter broke on the fish tank, I got desperate.

The note I left on the pet store bulletin board, "Divorce Forces Adoption," led to my goldfish moving into a beautiful outdoor pond. The same family took in my cockatiels. My finches have become a source of joy at an old folks' home, and another childless woman dotes on my ex-parrots.

Ed's three cats remain, but my roommate is a cat person and has taken them over. I did find a place for one dog, who went to live with my brother in another state. The deal was that she'd be with him temporarily — but indefinitely. They are so happy, I'm concentrating on the indefinite part.

Hard as it was for me to part with my critters, as much as I miss the chirping and squawking, and the bubbles and graceful swimming, I think those who moved out are better off than they were here with me.

So maybe it’s selfish to hold on to my remaining dogs, and I have to admit there are four of them. But enough sacrifice here. 

We've been looking for a place to rent for almost two months, but we're still in the same broke boat, with the same crappy credit we had two years ago when I left.

And just like when I left, and all the long years leading up to it, the weight of financial pressure creates this ongoing competition for resources that exacerbates all of our other problems.

Sam says I'm more stressed about it than he is.

He says it to me and he says it to our therapist, then we walk out of the appointment and he accuses me of wanting more than I actually want, of wanting to keep up with the Joneses, when actually I could not care less about anyone else's lifestyle.

I don't want a McMansion. I just want to get by without struggling.

It's the same old fight.

Not being able to support our family makes him feel inadequate, and I know it's true because when I left because he owned up to it. Admitted the nasty things he said were about being angry with himself, not me.

So I call him on it, and he apologizes. It's an improvement I'm willing to work with.

Our therapist once told me finances are cited as a key factor in 80 percent of divorces. Money is the number-one point of contention in marriages. I'll buy that. There's so much stuff bound up in dollars.

Like they say, money is power. So, of course, there's contention about who spends it and how. That's assuming there's money to be spent.

Those arguments feel luxurious to me. We don't get to fight about whose spending irresponsibly. More likely, I ask Sam to ask his family for a loan; he refuses. Or what we are going to do about child care this fall because we owe Lila's pre-school more than it cost me for a year of college back in the day, and until we pay it down, we can't use their before and after care program.

Sam and I both work hard at jobs we love, but we don't make much money doing it.