The divorce was finalized just about 48 hours ago, and the grief is rolling in.
I do not know really, why the marriage ended. The man who was my husband (I am not prepared to use the prefix, “ex”) might be flabbergasted to hear me say that–that I don’t know really why he had to divorce me–but I don’t. We didn’t talk about it much.
And what I do know of his reasons, I think they are dumb. Stupid. And why end a marriage over stupid reasons? And that makes me sad.
But I understand that they are his reasons, and he will feel what he will feel; there is nothing I can do about it. And it is this kind of rationalizing “acceptance” that I am relying upon to keep me making one step in front of the last, to keep me moving along.
I am not doing so well at this moment with the making one step and then another. I would really rather go slip into that bath that I have running, and slip under the surface of the water, and remain there. And be done with it.
Probably it disturbs people to hear that. But right now, it is how I feel. So why not say so?
That’ll change, sure. It has already. My feelings are pure roller coaster–swoop up, swoop down, click click click creep up to a height replete with vista, and whoooosh . . . along down to depths. Again. Again.
The violent hate that possessed me scant weeks ago is dissipating. Hallelujah. And I strive to keep a sweet perspective, to frame circumstances and my feelings in a positive way, even to extracting the good messages from my nightmares.
But. I hurt. All up and down my being, from the tip of my big toenail to the end of those wild, silver hairs on my head, I hurt. I am sad.
I wanted my marriage. I wanted my husband. I wanted our lives together. I still do. In spite of my intellectual understanding that it’s not to be.
photo: widdowquinn and used with Creative Commons licensing
{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }
Big hug x
Even though it was me that pulled the plug on my marriage six months ago, whenever I go back to the house, I feel the regret. We had been married for 22 years and a couple for just short of 30.
But I had to call time on it for it had become a sham with no affection between us and him disrespecting me in front of the children at every opportunity. It was the latter that forced my hand. I still have no idea why he does this. His behaviour is a mystery to me and to my family, with whom he remains close.
And yet, whenever I go back to that house, I am reminded of the good times. I have to forcibly remind myself of how long ago any of those were and what the reality was in the months before I left. But still part of me tries to beat myself up.
I hung on to a dream for so many years, something that was insubstantial and eventually there was nothing left to hold on to.
I think that things may have been different for you but never ask yourself what you could have done to keep the marriage together. You did everything you could to save it. It only works if two of you are dancing the same tango x