It’s almost 1am. I’m awake. Sitting in bed. Alone. Sitting here wondering how my life went so wrong. Almost 41 years old and ending a second marriage. A marriage that I find out now, has been a complete and utter lie from almost the beginning. That the man I thought loved me and would always love me, doesn’t. And probably never did.
I had built my life around supporting his dreams and encouraging him. Now that he has reached that goal, he no longer needs me. I get thrown away like yesterday’s news and someone new comes along. Someone younger. Skinnier. Prettier. To stroke his oh-so-fragile ego while I pick up the wreckage he just callously leaves behind.
My first granddaughter was born 8 days ago. This should be a joyous time in my life. But it’s all I can do to function. I am so angry and hurt. I never thought that at my age I’d have to start all over again.
I have to find housing. For me and my kids and my grand baby. Housing I can afford. I make less than a quarter of what he makes. I own nothing. Everything is in his name. I never dreamed that he would keep the house and we’d have to move. I always thought if the day ever came when it ended (and why would it? We were happy), that he would let me keep the home I have raised my children in. But he wants it. Of course, we are free to live here as long as we want (he says). Until he meets the next ego stroker and decides to move her in. Then where are we supposed to go?
No, we won’t stay here. It would be too easy to fall back into the routine of things, even if we are living on separate floors for the most part.
The hate and anger I feel are palpable. I hate the fact that he fell in love with someone else. I hate the fact that he cheated.
Over the years I suppose I have had the opportunity to cheat, but I never considered it. Not once. I was married. My vows were sacred. Mine were. His were optional.
My son asked me today if the past 17 years meant anything to his ‘father’. I said I honestly didn’t know. Honestly? I don’t think so. I think he didn’t have anything better to be doing, so he just hung out in our lives waiting for whatever he considers ‘better’ to come along.
I know I’ll come out of this on the other side, stronger, smarter. Maybe happier. But right now the other side seems so very far away. The light at the end of the tunnel seems so distant.
My grief ebbs and flows like the tide. I go from being so pissed off I could scream, to weepy the next. But my weepiness isn’t because I’m sad, really. It’s hurt. I’m sad that I wasted so many years on a lost cause. But I’m more hurt with the way the whole thing happened. Me finding an email account filled with such filthy emails that I almost threw up. This was the man I shared a bed with.
I want to run away. I want to just get the kids and go. My kids are adults, 18 and 20 (with a newborn). They are free to choose to do whatever they want. He has no obligation to them anymore. I want to just pack up and move to another state and forget this whole farce. And never, ever, have to see him again. And I might. It’s still an option for me to just go. My skills can get me a job anywhere. I can support myself and the kids are old enough to work.
But for now I am stuck. Here. In this house. With him. And it’s killing me.