The difference between milk and water.

I thought I'd be announcing my soon to be tasted freedom today. The divorce was supposed to be entered for judgment today. Note, I said supposed to be entered. Now, it looks like I'll be pondering my upcoming freedom past Thanksgiving.

The hearing is scheduled for late November. I thought I'd be a free woman by my next birthday (late October), and it will still be pending while I'm making homemade cranberry sauce and sipping mulled cider. I have the ominous feeling that this will drag on until Zak passes the bar.
This has been a strange journey: I was abused and cheated on, yet my ex was the one who filed. I was the one urging him to reconsider, yet my ex is the one calling me "babe" when he calls, which is far too often. In a sensible world, I would have filed, but life with the ex is a trip to Crazyland, so this is pretty mild by his standards.

He's divorcing me, but is still playing control games- trying to push me away and hold on at the same time. His latest game consists of agreeing to give Zak or me one thing, then pulling a last-minute switch. I ask for, e.g. money for feeding supplies, he goes out and gets poor substitutes for what I would have bought, and won't send them to my parents, basically making the items and admission price for a visit. I tell him to return them, he refuses, pouts, and finally sends me the money/the right item. Rinse and repeat.

He's quite free to have his say in what Zak wears, plays with, etc. I'd already made arrangements for him to be able to do so via email. But he doesn't want some say- he wants the same control he had while we were married, when I was too afraid to blink without his express permission.

Thank God, I'm out and away from him, but his attempts to resume control haven't ended. I plan to make additional steps toward freedom for myself, but this feels like a roadblock between me and the rest of my life.