Those of you who’ve followed my recent threads (and thanks to all of you) know that my wife and are were having some serious problems. We tried, very, very hard to give each other time, to talk things out, to try to find a way around having all the evidence pointing to the fact that we simply weren’t compatible any longer. It didn’t seem possible that two people who love each other so deeply and enjoy each other’s company so very much couldn’t find a way to continue.
But after days and days of both of us being without hope and grasping at straws together after months of facing some new and harsh realities, I finally had to put an end to it. A mutual decision, really, but somehow, I found the strength to say the words. I had asked our counselor how you know when enough is enough, and she told me that you have to go with your gut. I don’t regret making the decision; I know it was the right things for both of us. But the pain remains unimaginable.
We spent the day after the decision consoling each other, going through an incredibly painful and tearful ceremony of sorts of helping each other remove our wedding rings and put them away somewhere special. We composed email together to our family and friends. And we cried and cried and cried. And I’m still crying, off and on, between feeling numb.
In addition to the pain and disbelief, I’m also trying to deal with the real-world implications of what we’re doing. We bought a house together – well, it’ll be five months exactly as of tomorrow. So the finances are going to be incredibly complicated. I also will be looking for a place to live. I also have to find a way to try to focus on the job that will keep me being able to afford a house over my head while I have this on my mind.
And I know that so many people go through this awfulness every day, and we both knew it was probably coming, but even with that rationale, I still can’t help but feel like no one hurts like I do right now. I have walked through my marriage blindly, thinking that it was the very definition of forever. And in less than three months, it has all vanished. Everything.
I know in my head that life will go on and I will be happy again someday. Maybe I’ll even fall in love again, assuming I make a healthy recovery and someone actually wants me. But right now, in my heart, this really is the end of the world. I feel like the rest of my life will simply be playing things out to their natural conclusion, just waiting for it all to end.
So, one step at a time. I finally had my first meal of the day about half an hour ago. I’m sipping on a Mike’s Hard (Light) Cranberry Lemonade (I know, it’s comical, but if you knew how little I drink, you’d realize how “hard core” that is for me), and in about half an hour, I’m going to take two Benedryl and pray for morning. Work can’t come soon enough.
Thanks for reading. I fully admit to not proof-reading this, so my apologies for any typos, grammatical errors or any simple lack of comprehensibility.
But I know one thing for sure, now that you’ve chosen this course of action, you will be fine. It’ll take lots of time, but eventually you’ll probably feel this was the best decision for all parties involved.