So. Today, I've been going over my journal, mainly because I wanted to port
it out and post my entries into Evernote into one long cohesive thing,
including the things that I keep in Google (which are not as funny, and are
more "notes" about life so I can search and don't forget too much). But
I've been reading them... and the more I read, the more distressing it is.
The last four months, while financially stressful, have been... kind of
amazing. Like someone was holding my head underwater and I finally fought
them off and came up for air. Seriously. Despite the legal issues and the
divorce and having to go to court and oh, yeah, W fighting the divorce...
it's been amazing. Like I can breathe. Like someone finally opened the
dusty blinds of an inner home and now sunlight is pouring in. It's not all
because of the new guy, though a substantial part is. It's also because I
don't have that negativity that W brought into my life.
I read over entry after entry with his day-to-day pettiness and cruelty.
The threats of leaving, starting back in 2015 (!!). Why did it take me two
years, TWO YEARS, to figure out that the only thing I needed from him was
for him to leave? Why was I so unhappy? So many entries with the word
"depression" in them.
Do you know we had sex once in three years? ONCE? Why did I let myself
withstand that unhappiness and loneliness? Did you know that I've been
looking for a divorce for TWO YEARS? Two years. Two years of unhappiness
and waiting for him to finally leave me. Holy. Fuck. Y'all.
I am an amazing person for just having withstood that bullshit for so long,
but also a stubborn idiot for thinking I had to.
I knew that some day I'd want to go back and see myself in person, shake
myself and say, "What took you so long?"
Now I just want to hug her and let her cry. Oh my god, past self, it's so
much better on the other side. Worries and all, it is SO much better. When
you don't dread going home, like you said you did. Or you don't get bitched
at because you didn't buy the right potato chips. Or you can go home and
turn the music up and clean at 11pm because you WANT to. Or no one is
sitting there, drinking the Nth beer, calling you lazy...
I am devastated for myself, the time I wasted glorifying tiny rays of
sunshine and snippets of happiness instead of opening up the blinds and
letting it in. How I lifted up the tiny things that made me happy or
satisfied and ignored the storm above my head. I've always been able to
find happiness even in the most dire of circumstances but ... this
I want to post everything somewhere, publicly, where maybe it will help
Please, please don't stay if you are so deeply unhappy, for so long. Don't.
Just don't. There is SO much more to life on the other side. Some of you
have told me this. I was like "yeah, I know." But I didn't know. I didn't.
I was existing. I was taking some happiness from small things. But I wasn't
happy. I wasn't myself. And then I told him to leave, finally, that I
wouldn't be asking him back and while it set in motion the more terrifying
things that have happened in my life, it was also like jumping from the top
of a building and realizing that I had wings.
In the movie Maleficent, she's deeply unhappy without her wings. Trapped,
hunted, feared (I liked this movie, even the corny parts). You root for her
to win, for her to gain back her freedom and her autonomy. I never thought
that I'd think of it as a metaphor. That someone was given my wings and I
held *myself* hostage for them. And then I finally broke free and it was
awesome and terrible all at once.
I am still fighting to free myself from all of those bonds but I wouldn't
trade one minute of freedom for the depressing sameness day after day. I
wouldn't trade one second of love and affection for slightly more financial
I will never go back to that. Ever.
I cried the other day with my mother because I was angry with her for
sheltering and helping W. I finally told her. "It's going to be okay," she
said. "Mid summer, you'll be divorced and free of all of this." And it gave
me the sliver of hope I needed to grasp at that dark moment, to pull myself
I wrote two years ago, when W had been talking about leaving me for about
six months and using it as a tool to manipulate me, that if I had to define
the perfect man, it would be the one that made me feel invincible, the one
that I could count on to be at my side and providing cover fire, not
cowering and not commanding, an equal and nothing more or less, a man that
would fight for me as much as I fought for him. I wrote in the same entry
that I would rather be alone than accept less, that I needed more than just
marking time on my prison cell of a marriage.
I needed to be free. I don't know what I learned in the intervening two
years, unless it was what a test of loyalty and fortitude looked like.
God help me, but I will never do that again. I will never live in
unhappiness like I was then. I can't. I've discovered the world beyond that
It wasn't worth it. Not even a little bit. I'm not shackling my wings for
anyone, ever again.