The end of the road. The final chapter. It’s all over now.
Today our divorce is official. Today is the final day of a journey we began on October 18, 2008. A journey that should have lasted the rest of our lives.
On that day I made a vow to love, honor, and cherish you for the rest of my life. Unlike my first marriage, I meant it. And I believed I would spend the rest of my life doing so. I thought I had chosen wisely. I thought I had found the elusive “one.” I was wrong.
After a couple of months of counseling and therapy, it has been made clear to me that if you’re not a narcissist, you’re definitely borderline. Looking back through our relationship with my counselor he pointed out to me all of the traps you laid out for me that I fell right into with my codependency. From the pressure to marry you (I wasn’t ready) to the ultimatum (which you waited until we’d been dating for six months to give me) of having another child or we’re over, it’s all become very clear that you’ve been manipulating me for years and I just never saw it. Sure, I noticed your selfishness over time, but not the manipulation.
Last year I assumed responsibility for every problem our marriage had and you let me do it. My friends, and even the marriage counselor we saw (the one time you could be bothered to go), emphasized it took two to make it work and two to make it not work, but I would not listen. And neither did you. I was so focused on my faults and what I had done wrong that I didn’t bother to look at your faults or mistakes any longer. I was too busy trying to change myself into the person you wanted me to be to worry about the person I needed or wanted you to be.
I begged and pleaded for two months for you to give me another chance and you didn’t give me that chance until you found out that I had moved on to someone new. You then cried, laid your pain on me, and made me feel like shit for hurting you even though I moved on only because of your stubborn insistence that I do so. You eventually told me you wanted to try again and swore that you would do whatever it took to make us work. So I broke it off with that woman, and broke her heart. And I’ve felt like shit for doing so ever since.
I, ever gullible and idiotic, took you back despite knowing that you had sex with multiple men during our separation and had inadvertently forwarded a sexually explicit email to one of those men to me and my entire family. And to your family, too. When my friends and family found out we were trying again I was asked what the fuck I was thinking. It was simple, I told them, I loved you. And I did. So fucking much.
We agreed to leave the past in the past and start over. You made me cut off contact with quite a few friends when we got back together. Then I moved out from the house I was sharing with a friend and left him in a financial bind so that we could get our finances in order to resume our life together. I promised him some money, but then couldn’t follow through because of you losing your job when you had to have your hysterectomy. He no longer speaks to me.
I ended up moving in with you and your parents because my father decided to move on a whim and I had no place else to go. For some reason, every bit of progress we had made in the last few months started to deteriorate from that moment on. Your expectations of me became, in my view, unrealistic. I couldn’t meet them. At the end of January, you were finally cleared by your doctor to return to work. You found a job within a couple of weeks and on Valentine’s Day, less than a week after you resumed working, you informed me you no longer wanted to put any effort into our marriage. I felt used and betrayed. How convenient, I thought, that you no longer wanted me around now that you had a source of income again.
I, again, was devastated. I fought your decision for a couple of days. You came home drunk a couple of days later and begged me for an “anger fuck.” You wanted to get laid and I wanted nothing to do with sex just for the sake of sex. I wanted you to love me. I wanted it to mean something. Then, you asked me to make love to you. I told you not to say that unless you meant it, and you told me you did. So I acquiesced.
The next morning nothing had changed. It became apparent that you had lied to me just to get me to fuck you. At that point I lost all respect and love for you. At that point I decided I was finished. I was not going to try to repair this dysfunctional relationship any longer. I decided at that point to move out and to never again ask you to change your mind. At the end of the month, I moved into my own place, and haven’t looked back. The look of disappointment on your parents’ faces (especially your father’s) when I handed them my house key still haunts me.
I’m not too embarrassed to admit that this morning I shed a tear or two when I thought of our divorce. In fact, I bawled. At my desk. At work. I had a headache by the time I was finished. My eyes burned. I wept for the loss my family. I miss belonging to a family. I miss doing things as a family. I miss the sense of family and the sense of security that came with it. I miss knowing that I have someone to come home to everyday no matter how shitty my day was or what things I fucked up. I miss the sense of belonging. I miss my best friend. I miss the person I thought you were.
But I don’t miss you.
You have reached out to me many times in the past few months. You initially asked me to rebuild our relationship. I truly did think about it, but I figured as time wore on you would just become unhappy again and we’d be right where we are again. So I declined. Then you asked me for a friendship. With benefits. That was tempting. Really, really tempting. You came over for dinner and I asked you for your reasons. I asked you why I should agree to this. You have friends, you don’t need my friendship. You’ve never had a problem finding sexual partners, why me? You couldn’t answer any of my questions and it pissed me off. It became clear that you were attempting to manipulate me again so I, again, declined your offer. You have made it clear that you remain available to talk to should I ever have the need. Thank you, but I can assure you, I won’t.
We almost made it 5 years. We made a beautiful child together and I will forever be grateful for that. That child lights up my life. He makes me laugh. His spirit is free and he’s one of the smartest little boys I’ve ever known. He is the spitting image of you and your father. He has an infectious smile and contagious laughter. He, like the twins, is growing up far too quickly.
Thank you for the precious few good times we enjoyed. Thank you for helping me heal from my abusive first marriage. You did it for your own reasons, I think, but you still helped me. Thank you for teaching me the importance of communication. Thank you, most of all, for my son. I hope you find the happiness that has been eluding you your entire life. I hope one day you find peace with your brother’s suicide. I will continue to support AFSP in his honor and in honor of all of the people I know that have attempted suicide and/or suffer from depression. I have never joined a cause before this, and I can think of no more noble a cause to become involved in.
Goodbye. And good luck in whatever endeavors you decide to embrace.