A long time ago, I was Anne Albright. I wrote a column called Kidstuff for the San Diego Reader from spring 1993 until August 2004. What started as a "parental advice" column turned into the story of my life as a stay-at-home mom. I was a Mommy Blogger before there were Mommy Bloggers. When I started, I had one, very young child--Rebecca. Over the course of the following 11 years, Rebecca was joined by Angela, Lucy, John, and Ben. I also wrote about my husband, Jack. Every week I presented an "unvarnished" view of motherhood--dirty diapers and vomiting children, struggles with my weight and depression, how my Catholicism informed my days and my choices. I was as honest as I knew how to be.
For all my transparency, there were a lot of things I didn't write about. Like Jack's addiction to online pornograhy, his infidelities, the emotional abuse I willingly endured for the sake of my children and my faith. In November 2004, I had what used to be called a good old fashioned nervous breakdown. In one terrible week, I lost my writing job and found out that Jack hadn't broken up with his latest girlfriend even though he had promised me he had. I spent a week in the Behavioral Health Unit at Tri-City Hospital after downing a bottle of pills in front of Lucy, who was 10 at the time. She told me later that she thought I was taking so much medicine to help me feel better. Although she wasn't right about it at the time, she ultimately was telling the truth.
During my hospitalization, I finally had a few moments of clarity. I realized that Jack was never going to save me. I had to save myself. After I got home, I continued outpatient treatment for my depression in spite of Jack's protests that it "took time away from the kids." I went back to work as a family law attorney--a career I left when Rebecca was born. I even invested four more years in couple's counseling to try and save my marriage. In the end, Jack didn't change. He just got better at lying. In October 2008, I discovered that Jack had continued and deepened his pornography addiction while telling our therapist and me and the world that he was "clean and sober." I was done. Jack left the house.
In 2009 and 2010, I continued to clean house, personally and financially. I filed for and completed a legal separation, let the house go to foreclosure and filed bankruptcy. Now, Rebecca is 18 and a freshman in college. Angela is 16; Lucy, 14; John, 12, and Ben, my baby, is 10. Angela and Lucy live with me and my elderly mother in a lovely rental house a half mile from where we used to live. John and Ben stay with Jack most nights at the little house he rented near the church we all still attend. I see the boys everyday. I love my job. I love my new life. I still struggle with my weight and old patterns of martyrdom.
In two days, I will turn 49 on Ash Wednesday. As I begin my 50th year on the planet, I intend to write about my new challenges, the joys of middle age and teenaged children, the way caring for my mother and my kids inspires me to take better care of myself. I look forward to the journey.
