Dearest readers, it is the end of another chapter in my life. Time to fade to black. Time to turn the page.
I have spent the last six months trying to repair a broken marriage. A marriage broken mostly by me. In that time I have changed as a person. I’ve recognized many of my faults. I have tried to address them. And for the most part I think I have succeeded.
I am far from the angry man I was six months ago. I have grown a little more patient. I’m happier with myself. My mood swings are largely nonexistent, but still occur occasionally. They are nowhere near as drastic as they were six months ago.
Two weeks ago my wife mentioned to me that she was no longer sure if she wanted our marriage to work. I was dumbfounded and taken by surprise by this as I thought, even though things weren’t perfect, that we were doing alright. In an effort to find out what went wrong I looked through her emails to see if something was going on. Something she wasn’t telling me. I found that she had emailed some guy she met on POF during our separation. “Text me,” it said. At that moment, I decided to move out.
The next day, Valentine’s Day of all days, my wife told me that she was done trying in our marriage. That was news to me because I honestly couldn’t tell that she was putting forth any effort at all.
I, of course, was crushed. And angry. I stopped at the store on my way home from work that night and picked up some alcoholic beverages and proceeded to get drunk. At some point in my intoxicated state, I looked down and saw the wedding band on my left ring finger. It taunted me with unfulfilled promises of love and happiness. I took it off and shoved it in my pocket. Later on that night, as I was changing in preparation for bed, I reached into that pocket to take the ring out. It was gone. I went and looked all over downstairs where I had been playing with Baby C thinking maybe it fell out of my pocket. I couldn’t find it. I rooted through the dirty clothes basket. Not there. I have still yet to find the ring and have no idea where it could have gone.
It eventually occurred to me that this was perhaps some sort of sign. Life’s way of telling me that I needed to move on. I asked a dear friend about signs, and if said friend thought this was a sign that it was really over. That friend answered, “Absolutely.”
Tomorrow I will be signing a lease on my own townhouse. I, and my three boys, will be living together again. I’ve resolved to strengthen my relationship with my children. Especially the twins, with whom I have given up much time in an attempt to save my broken marriage. I was still able to see them on Mondays and Wednesdays, but I had to take them back to their mother’s house as they were not welcome to stay with me more than every other weekend. At the time I made that decision I thought that doing so would be worth saving my marriage. Now I see that the marriage could not be saved and I just threw time with my boys right out the window.
Strangely, amid the chaos that my life has been the last two weeks, I have been surprisingly stable emotionally. I don’t know if it’s because of the medication, or maybe I subconsciously saw this coming and was prepared for it, or if it just hasn’t sunk in yet. Perhaps a combination of the three. Also, I have abused many ears willing to listen, and have had many other offers to let me vent. Three people in particular have been extremely supportive. Those three people know who they are and from the very bottom of my heart, I thank all three of you. You have been and continue you to be godsends currently and I hope that I can one day repay the favor to you in kind. Although I truly hope you never find yourself in this kind of situation.
As for me, I’m going to move on and concentrate on making myself happy. That means getting back to doing things I love. That means raising my children. That means reading. That means writing. That means spending time with family. That means doing damn near everything I love that I haven’t been doing the last six months. I’m going to try to keep a positive outlook on life even though it’s never been in my nature to do so. I’m going to try to see challenges as opportunities, even though I’ve always scoffed at the notion. I’m going to be, in the words of one of my favorite bloggers Mikalee Byerman, Me 2.0. A new version. A better version. A better me.
In parting, I would just like to say…fuck you, marriage. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Never again. Just never again.