Ok kiddies… we are coming down to the wire. Only 16 more days until the lease expires. I am packing up and moving as much as I can this weekend. I am SO over this. I always thought to myself, “If I ever move out, I am filing for divorce right away and we will be done in 60 days!” Well, as I am sure happens with most break-ups, life gets in the way.
You see, once you are out of the horrible day in/day out situation, you don’t think about it as much. At least for me. There is such a quiet freedom in being able to do what you want without judgment or need for justification. Without the daily misery… I am free to just be me! I enjoyed my quiet times and for the first few months, my social calendar was full! So many people invited me out to take my mind off it.
But there were calls. And texts. Oh… the texts. All day long. All night long. Never an adult conversation. Always either whining/crying or screaming. Ugh. In February, the stress got to me and I landed in the hospital ending in emergency surgery. After a month of recovery, I was feeling better.
Then in June, I got sick again. Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome, they are calling it. (Basically, my nerves in my digestive tract are just too sensitive and closely tied with anxiety – Hooray.) Now I am feeling better. I rented a storage unit and start packing and all that jazz. This weekend will be my big move. I am hoping that I can get it all together and be out.
But now that we are rolling to a close, I am not the only one feeling it. For months, Steve has been “so sad.” Trying to convince me to come back and in the same breath pushing me farther away. I know he is bipolar, but sheesh. Then last week he started vacillating between “Denial” and “Uber Pissed” Now the good times are mostly forgotten.
“I hope you are sterile”
“File for divorce and get it over with you quitter” (I’d rather be a quitter than a cheater)
“Wish u would have never married me.”
Damn. Can you feel the love? I sure can!
Here’s the deal. I don’t feel sorry for you. YOU put me through hell for years. YOU couldn’t give a shit about me or my emotional (or physical) well- being. YOU laughed in my face when I told you I was hurting. YOU pushed me aside as if I didn’t matter and just did whatever the hell you wanted to do. I asked you to go to counseling for FIVE YEARS and you wanted nothing to do with any of it.
Until I walked out.
Until I didn’t come back.
Until you finally realized that I was a great thing, and that I did EVERYTHING for you.
NOW you want to go to counseling. NOW you want to talk about love. NOW I am interesting. Guess what? Too. Effing. Late.
And all of the nastiness in the world won’t make it so. I have been sent on so many emotional guilt trips that I will take ALL of my loyal readers to Fiji with me on the frequent flier miles!
It isn’t worth it. Not the stress to my health, my psyche, or my sanity. You can say all of the ridiculous things you want about ME walking out and “ruining your chance at having a family.” No. That was YOUR choice for years, when you decided to tell me I would be a horrible mother (lie). When you told me that we would never have children (right.. not together, we won’t). When you told me that what I wanted wasn’t important.
But it is important to me. That is why I left.
So take yourself on down the road to whatever and whomever you want. I don’t care. You told me once that you would “find a really PRETTY woman next time”. Good luck with that. I hope that you mature a little before you ruin someone else’s life and steal their youth.
Suck it. I’m out.