Co-parenting is excruciatingly hard. It might just be the hardest thing I've ever done in my life (or attempted to do). But when my ex-husband got diagnosed with cancer, I had no clue just how hard it would become.
Luckily, the cancer was highly treatable. Still, though I tried to mentally prepare myself for what was coming, I really didn't know how. All I really knew was that the person who I already had a deeply challenging and painful relationship with was about to get sick. I had to figure out (quickly) how involved I would be.
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It didn't help that my biggest co-parenting hurdle was (and is) trying to create and hold boundaries with a person who is prone to take advantage. He takes advantage of the love I have for my kids, which, admittedly, is not very hard to do. He knows I'll step up in a jam — every time — and he doesn't mind using that to routinely ask for favors — things that would typically be asked of a partner, not an ex-spouse.
Routinely being asked for so many things far outside of my responsibilities as a co-parent wouldn't be quite so problematic if that kindness or help was a two-way street. It isn't. Even in emergency situations, my ex made clear early on in our split that he would not be available. Even when a family member was dying, he refused to watch our children for an extra 15 minutes. There have been so many painful reminders that he is happy to take and take and take — but never step up in return.
I learned to not expect kindness. I also learned that no matter what I did, I would routinely be asked for so much more than I was comfortable with, and that if I ever dared say no, I would be yelled at or manipulated. Worse, my kids might be put in an unsafe or uncomfortable situation, forcing me to go drop whatever I was doing anyway.
Honestly, someone knowing they can get away with anything because you love your kids is horrible. It's been the most demeaning relationship of my life. I know that much of it stems from my ex's anger at me for being the one who wanted out of the marriage. But it's been five years since our split.
Everyone told me he would pull it together, because those were their own experiences. He hasn't. He chooses to keep acting and reacting in anger. And trying to co-parent with someone who is eager to express their anger at you, who actively seeks to hurt you, can make you feel trapped in the worst possible way.
One of the biggest issues with co-parenting is trying to break toxic patterns. But when your co-parent has cancer, it's so much harder. The truth is, no matter how terrible your co-parent has been to you, they are still the other parent of your children. That doesn't mean you need to tolerate abuse, and you shouldn't. But it does mean that you're likely to want to help in some ways.
Boundaries are maybe never more important in this situation, and I think that is the main thing I have now learned. But I learned it because I absolutely failed at holding mine.
When my ex was first in the hospital, I was there every day. I brought him food and sat with him, and then I went to doctor appointments to hear all about the treatment plan. I was already doing too much, and deep down I knew it. But it also seemed that no matter what I did, his requests never stopped coming. I was overwhelmed with guilt and seriously conflicted.
As his treatment went on, I tried to create some space. Our co-parenting therapist suggested I only commit to extra help with the kids and nothing more. The same week we decided that would be the new plan, he called at 6:30 a.m. to ask me to come get his dog. He'd ask me to drive him to chemo and pick him up. Once he called early on a Saturday morning during my first break from my kids in a week to ask me to bring him fruit. When I resisted, he begged and pleaded until I relented.
The therapist talked to me about more firmly holding my boundaries. My ex will push back and he will likely get angry because that new territory is uncomfortable for him, she told me. But you have to do it if you want things to change. "That's a lot harder when he has cancer," I said. She pressed that it was still important if I wanted to shift the pattern.
I knew that was true, but it was still immensely difficult. I tried to think about how I might be treated if roles were reversed. I knew I'd likely be forced to carry on with my every obligation with my kids — my ex wouldn't be interested in helping me, likely at all. If I was sick, I'd still have my kids on my scheduled days. And if I was very sick, I'd ask someone else for help because my ex would tell me that he is simply unavailable.
After one explosive phone call, I knew I needed to take a giant step back. I hung up the phone and sobbed on my kitchen floor. And I realized that no matter how much I gave, he would always find a reason to rage at me. He was physically and emotionally struggling, and just like I was the default person to ask for anything he needed, I was also the default person to yell at.
I immediately leashed up his dog and put her in the car and dropped her off at his house. With two weeks left of treatment, I created a new plan for myself. It looked like this: Just take care of the kids.
That meant no more answering early morning phone calls. No more taking his dog in whenever he asked. No more showing up with soup, or cartons of berries, or helping him arrange his life. It especially meant no more tolerating being yelled at, or even justifying his rage with a response.
Here's the thing: Watching someone you used to be married to struggle isn't easy. But you also can't let your own life completely fall to pieces because you feel bad for them. Guilt can be a dangerous thing in a co-parenting relationship. That is probably especially true, quite often, for women.
I know it has been for me. Guilt has allowed me to permit so much more horrible behavior. I'm finally realizing that I have got to let go of that guilt for good.
My ex having cancer taught me to do just that.
The good news is, he will get better. And with any luck, he won't get cancer again. But if there is a next time, I will set firm boundaries from the start. None of that means being unkind. It just means taking care of myself and my kids first.
Even in writing these words, I know that won't always be easy. I know I'll be tested. But today, I'm telling myself that I matter, too, and I'm vowing to hold onto that thought throughout this hard and exhausting co-parenting journey.
Maybe this has all been a lesson in protecting myself. Maybe I've finally learned to do it better.
