This evening my (ex) husband was out for a work party thing. I text him to say I regretted my ‘failures’ in the marriage [even though I was prepared to work at it 100%] and I wanted things to be amicable for the kids. That I wouldn’t fuck him over in a divorce and I wanted to reach compromises for our seperation – also reassuring him that I was looking for work and had opened the parameters for the whole of the North Island.
I enjoyed some television and frankly less tension in the house (feeling like an over staying houseguest) with a bottle of wine and some recorded back programmes of mine.
When he arrived home, he nonchantly thanked me for the messages.
To me he might have well said, ‘thanks for forgoing the fact your heart is ripped out and your security is uncertain but you’ve finally accepted I don’t love you and don’t want you around – but I feel much better.’
Then he reassured me I didn’t have to clear off to ‘my’ room just because he was home.
Sure honey, let’s watch some menial television together while you’re feeling great and I’m feeling like a deflated, disregarded, unattractive blow up doll.
What surreal parellel universe have I entered?
I lock the house up, and head to bed knowingly alone while he watches tv, free of his obligatory housemate and in the buzz from a work party.
While I lie here contemplating my future and worrying about the impact on my children.
When did he turn into a heartless bastard? When did my past become a ‘card’ that he can no longer tolerate? When did my ability to seek an amicable resolution to the insolvency of our marriage make him so relaxed and content?
How long ago did he in fact realise he didn’t love me?
I lie in this bed alone (again). Efforts dejected, exhausted, miserable. I’ve spent the day applying for work and putting odd items of mine on trademe (NZ equivalent of eBay). I don’t own much of value but I need money. And as gold is so cheap – ironically my wedding ring isn’t worth very much here.
I worry about my children. I already ache painfully for my son and I’ve not even left yet. How can I be without him 7 days a week??? It’s unbearable thinking about.
My (ex) husband takes to the couch so easily. I’m sure he’d rather sleep on a bed of nails than next to me. I repulse him clearly.
I text him to remind me I need cash to refuel my car tomorrow. I need to drive the kids to school and head into the city for an injection that will stop my periods because periods trigger me – WOW! There goes the victim card again.
If only I could be as content as him.
He has everything – including rich supportive parents. I have nothing. He has already happily moved on, made further content by my resolution not to cause any trouble. Just to leave.
I have never felt so lonely. All my life I am blamed for everything. My parents – if I was in contact and they knew they would chalk this marriage breakdown up.
He was my best friend, my confidante, my saviour, my rock. And all the while was tallying up my every failure, every nightmare and panic attack. Waiting for me to ‘get over it.’
I had no idea I was such a burden. Such a noose around his neck.
Now I’m unwanted in the house, asking for money as needed. Looking at my children – knowing I’m going to lose them. Taking in every second of my son’s scent, warmth, feel. The individually of my girls and their quirks.
I would do anything to bring my husband back. His warmth, his security and unconditional love – but he’s gone.
I face this world alone, and I will NEVER trust again.