I’m OK and getting better. Life is looking up. While things are still progressing slowly with my divorce, it’s all moving forward and so am I.
I recently added a bunch of 80’s hard rock and metal to my playlist plus Kenny Loggins, 3 Doors Down and some Billy Joel. I’m eclectic when it comes to music. I haven’t added any country music though, that shit’s too depressing right now.
I’m not sure this song was ever released, but it’s fitting:
Yes, it’s a lot of Shinedown recently. Yes, I may be obsessing. Moving on.
Four or five years ago I heard about a survey regarding couples who have been married for a while. A 2007 Women’s Day/AOL survey found that 36% of women surveyed would not marry their husbands if they could redo their vows and another 20% were unsure. I realized I was one of this 36%. At the time I was not willing to consider divorce and wanted to make it work anyway.
I’ve always wanted kids. He didn’t want anymore. He said he already had the perfect kid and didn’t need anymore. Ouch, right? But I also knew that he didn’t really have the patience to care for another child. He barely had enough patience to care for his son and easily lost his temper with our roommate’s boy. By the time I had reached my mid-thirties I had pretty much come to grips with the idea that I would never have children. Since I was already at that point when we started dating, I didn’t give the topic too much thought. But I should have.
We did the marriage therapy thing for a while and things were a little better. I certainly wasn’t miserable, but I wasn’t truly happy either. M would not discuss anything that was bothering him outside of therapy. He would not share with me unless a third party was present. I can’t say this went by unnoticed. I wasn’t really sure what I could do about it. I brought this to his attention. He responded with a shrug.
Time went by, things got worse and I became miserable, but I didn’t quite know it yet. Over the last summer I really started to realize my marriage was over. M was feeling some of this and truly tried to be more attentive and considerate. He never asked me about it and soon he reverted back into his depression. By August I knew my marriage was over. It was a month more before I had the courage to admit it aloud and ask for a divorce.
I spent a lot of time soul-searching. I didn’t really want to get a divorce, but I just couldn’t stand to be miserable any longer. My revelation was the night I kicked him every time he tried to touch me. I did not want him near me or to touch me. I couldn’t stand that he was as close as he was which is saying something as we had a king sized bed and we slept on our own sides. I had started piling up pillows in the middle to both keep him away and to block out the infernal fan he always had going. I hate that thing.
Since I do not share (see my first post), most of my family and friends were actually surprised I asked for a divorce. A few more were just relieved I did it while others sensed there were buried issues we weren’t discussing and they weren’t all that surprised. They all knew that this meant I would be willing and able to socialize with them more. Some of our friends I lost touch with due to distance and his irrational anger towards the people closest to him. I’ve reconnected with most of them by now.
To be fair, the distance problem was mostly my doing. I did not want to commute 45 minutes to work AND school. Moving to the greater Portland area reduced that commute time and helped relieve the stress of work and school. He just wanted to put more distance between him and his family. Moving 45 minutes away ensured that his family wouldn’t visit often.
Over the last 3 months, as I am coming to terms with the end of my marriage, the process of ending it and the prospect of being alone again, I have also discovered how happy I am. I have gone out to do things with different groups of friends. My performance at work has improved greatly including my attitude. Those who know me know that I can be quite the bitch sometimes and that would occasionally come out in my work. Considering I work in customer service, this wasn’t a good thing.
I’ve felt more like his caregiver or his mother more and more over the last few years. I am a nurturing person, (yes, I’m also a bitch) and I feel he may have subconsciously been clinging to that.
Right now I’m not seeking any specific message in the music I listen to. I only want it to be loud and hard. It’s best in the car because I can feel the base thumping. It’s therapeutic.
The best thing that happened this past week was talking to a friend who is going through something similar but different. After about a month of “we really should talk” we finally made the time to do just that. We agreed to be brutally honest and helped each other out. It’s hard when people don’t understand what life is like with a person who is depressed all the time.
Looking back I have to admit that I did what I promised myself I would never do. I settled. I settled for a man who I had no business getting involved with. I thought I loved him. Our wedding day was a big beacon of warning, but I went through with it anyway. Why did I feel so insecure and so unworthy that I did this to myself? I’ve spent a lot of time by myself. I know myself very well, but apparently not as well as I had thought.
So now I write this blog to make myself admit a few things. It’s time I learn from my mistakes. Life is too short to be miserable. Depression sucks for those who it affects directly and indirectly. Life is hard and I’ve done a great job of making it more difficult for myself. I have a knack for doing things the hard way, it seems my love life was no exception.
Now, a lot of great things have also happened during this time. I’ve made some wonderful new friends. I have a comfortable home. I have a terrific job. I have an awesome dog and cat. I have reason to go outside and do things.
And best of all, I’m finally losing the weight I have consistently put on since being with M. His diet choices are very poor. He would get insulted when I didn’t want to eat what he had cooked so I stopped refusing to eat what he made. I was also eating more than I ever had in my life. I do not love food. I never have. I’ve always eaten because I had to, not because I wanted to. Since puberty I’ve never really been “skinny” but I wasn’t fat. I have some health issues with my joints and my back due to the extra weight I’m carrying but am otherwise completely healthy. So the weight is slowly coming off. I’m still not sleeping well, but I’m getting enough rest.
M hasn’t moved out yet. I do not know when he will. I do not know what he really wants. All I know is that I want him out of my life. Forever.
I’ll end with this song, a favorite from way back when: