I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was still grieving my marriage. I am. I probably always will.
No one gets into a relationship in the hopes that one day you would be sitting across from each other on the couch watching the relationship you built fall apart. It is sad. It was devastating. Even though I knew that my marriage was over long before it actually ended, part of me always just hoped…… if I rode the bad out long enough, it would go back, he would go back, I would go back, and we would be happy.
Somewhere along the way we grew apart. I tried and tried to hold us together, wanted to be a family, and I’m sure he did too, but our definitions of family and the roles within it didn’t match. Anger and resentment started small and grew and grew until it was taking up all the room in our lives. I couldn’t do anything right, and sometimes I didn’t want to. In the car, I would search for a hand to hold and find that it was clenched around the steering wheel. It became mechanic and the feelings dulled and the fact that neither persons’ needs were being met were just ignored. We existed, but we didn’t live. We didn’t kiss each other hello or even say good morning. Silence filled places that used to be overflowing with conversation and laughter. This went on for years. This dullness and the ache to feel loved. But even though the relationship slowly flickered out, does not mean that it still did not break my heart.
I feel like I failed my child by forever making him break up his time between homes. I feel like I failed my husband and I feel like I failed myself. I am genuinely sorry about it all. I see that sometimes people have these divorce parties and celebrate, but I assure you, that there was no cause for celebration. This ending was sad.
But life goes on. Even if that ending sticks with me and colors my future, I turn the page. Begin a new story full of promise and new choices. I have no other choice, it might be scary, but it is mine to write.