Happily Ever After

There is an unrelenting list of the things that plague you as a person who has chosen to end a marriage. Particularly if you are also a parent.

This isn’t just your life any more and the guilt and worry that rears its head constantly after you’ve made the choice to split your family up is unforgiving and harsh in the bright of day and the dark of night.

I often found myself awake in the middle of the night wondering if I had made the right decision. I still do.

It’s really difficult to be clear in the night, when you’ve slept some but not enough, and to stay on track. Once you’ve left a bad situation, it can also be hard to remember exactly how horrible your old life really was at the time.

Perhaps it’s a result of being told my whole life how dramatic and over the top I am that I doubt the legitimacy of my feelings.

— Please note if you have people in your life who say these things to you, you should find other people to surround yourself with. Your feelings, histrionic or not, are your feelings and deserve some respect. —

I put a lot of effort into positive thinking after I left my marriage. So much so that I felt like I forgave my ex for the years of manipulation and condescension and basic lack of love of any kind, and I moved on really quickly. I also think I spent a lot of my time IN my marriage grieving for the loss of my marriage before it had even ended. But that raised a lot of doubt about if it was really bad enough to end a marriage.

In fact it took me over three years of crying to everybody I knew about my lousy marriage before I actually did anything about it because I constantly thought it wasn’t bad enough.

So what if he never hugged or kissed me. So what if he mocked my dreams and goals. So what he never spent time with me. So what our home was plagued with his negativity and rage and misery. So what I had to tiptoe around his moods and his work and his illnesses and his self importance.

He didn’t hit me. He didn’t scream at me, every day. He didn’t make the kids cry every day, sometimes. He provided plenty of money. And he didn’t hit me.

Was it bad enough to leave?

One of my closest friends said she almost wished he would hit me so I would feel sure that I should leave. It was an off place to be in, and months later, having ended it, I’m still here doubting myself.

If you’ve recently split, or split a long time ago, I’d love to hear about your experiences in the comments.

A beautiful life coach I follow, Mel Robbins, signs off her emails by saying “In case no one else has told you this today, I love you”. And I think that’s a beautiful sentiment.

So… if you’re reading this, in case noone else has told you this today, I love you.

You are beautiful.

You are incredible.

You are worthy.

It is ridiculously easy to end a marriage.

The words, once spoken, cannot be revoked. Or, at least, they couldn’t in my case.

I had spoken aloud my desire to be free and just not in that relationship for years and years, to everyone except my husband.

I had cried and argued and angsted and finally I had had my fill.

I learned something about myself years ago – that I was willing to put up with a lot, for a really really long time, but that when I was done, I was done. I often felt very uncomfortable for a long time, not good enough for even longer, annoyed and irritated often, and yet I could keep a smile on my face and a patient tone in my voice and just wait it out.

Well I waited my marriage out. Just shy of our ten year anniversary, and over sixteen years in a relationship, and I was done. It had been half my lifetime at the time I called it quits.

Now I find it quite unbelievable that I spent half my life with someone who I’m not sure knows what love is or how to show love to another person, but all I can do now is accept that it was my choice at the time and hope for better in the future.

I realise reading back that my experience is making a liar of my opening sentence. My marriage was hard, my relationship was incredibly sad and lonely. I tear up just being open about how utterly lonely I was for so many years. How I still feel that emptiness now, and the sour taste of the unworthiness that follows that thought.

But ending my relationship was so easy. The act of sitting my husband down and telling him that I couldn’t do this any more, that I needed him to move out, that I was past any form of reconciliation, it was incredibly easy.

My voice was level, my face impassive. He told me later, repeatedly, how cold I was towards him. Hysteria (mine) would generally follow that comment since his absolute frigidity was one of the main reasons I was so alone in my marriage.

But it was my brain taking over my heart that day.

I’m a Gemini, not that I’m sure how much I believe in horoscopes, but we are known as the twins. My husband used to refer to Gemini’s as “hot/cold” or dramatic in mood and action. Now I think perhaps it’s more accurate to describe me as head and heart.

My heart had taken a beating, time and again, for so many years that it simply retreated. Frozen, hidden, hard as stone, whatever it was, it wasn’t there the day I told my husband I couldn’t continue our marriage.

My logical smart brain took over. Here was a situation that was making me sick, ill in heart and body and soul. Here was a relationship that offered me nothing but pressure and pain. My brain knew it had to get me out. So it did.

The weeks and months that followed until now haven’t been easy. I’m sure there are many trying times still to come.

But the space and light in my home has been a revelation. The wonder of fulfilling my own life, thinking about creating my own future, is precious and exciting.

I can be who I want to be.

I can create what I want to create.

I have the freedom to chase my dreams. Chase a sunset. Chase real love.

I hope you can do the same.

You need to love yourself. Love yourself so much to the point that your energy and your aura rejects anyone who doesn’t know your worth. — Billy Chapata

Doubts in the Night

Beginning with the Ending