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