8-25-2015

I heard the bathroom door shut and shower start.
I lay in bed and listened. Took in the sounds because I knew it would be the last time.

My husband is moving out today. 

As much as it pains me to admit it, the last 14 years have just been a prolonging of the inevitable.

I have fought and fought and fought some more for this marriage. Until I could no longer fight. Until the fight in me was gone and I was dead. I became a ghost of who I once was.

I found myself hunched over a mug of oatmeal squares at 2:30 in the morning. Hunger pangs had come over me as I ate little the day before. And I wasn't sleeping on top of it. Waves of emotion came over me and I cried a different kind of cry. The kind that takes hold of your body and shakes it all over. The kind the knows- this is it.

I don't want my marriage to be over. But I also don't want to put in the work required to save it. Work that might not even be able to save it. It has been hard from day 1. And though I know marriage takes work and effort and is in no way easy, it shouldnt be like this. 


I think of the lilac bushes he bought me this year for our anniversary and I cry. I think of him holding our babies when they were born and I cry. I think of the times he loved me whole heartedly (yes those existed) and I cry. I am mourning. The good and the bad. I am mourning what never was and never could be. I am mourning the life I thought I'd have. I am mourning the loss of a man, who although mistreated me and brought me much pain, I love.

I feel like I am at the start of a very dark journey. And painful. And while I know my God is here with me, and in the end all will be ok, its going to be the most painful pain I've ever know. Worse than being abused. Worse than being forgotten or ignored. Worse than navigating the murky waters of recovery.
Hell is before me. I cant go over it, cant go around it. I have to go through it.