Relationship Grieving

Today at work I was talking with a friend who just finalized her divorce this week. She told me the actual court date was hard. She cried. She said she already grieved the loss of her husband, but she had not grieved the loss of her marriage. Some people would probably question this. After all, isn't a husband exactly one half of a marriage. If one is gone, the other is gone also. I see this line of reasoning. But let me explain why it's not the same.

Many people date around before they marry. A lot of people have multiple serious partners before deciding to marry. Grieving a husband is like grieving the break-up of a boyfriend you dated for years. You grieve the loss of the person You grieve the loss of their presence, their friendship, their touch. You grieve the loss of songs and secrets and jokes that you shared. You grieve the loss of the future you could have had.

But when you grieve a marriage you grieve something much more emotional. I've broken up with guys and I left my husband. Leaving my husband was one thousand times harder than breaking up with any of my old boyfriends, even though our marriage was not healthy and we both hurt each other. Ending a marriage is so much more official. You have to list assets and debts. You have to split up bills and belongings. You have to say, "I promised to be with this person forever, but I failed miserably in that promise." I have struggled with shame and embarrassment over saying "my marriage failed." I don't fail. I succeed. It may take a lot of hard work and dedication but I succeed. So why couldn't I succeed in my marriage? Did I not try hard enough? Should I have loved more? Prayed more? Been less angry? Been more forgiving?

The truth is I don't know that anything could have saved my marriage. We were living two completely different lives. We wanted completely different futures. The last time I talked to him he told me he ruined his life with poor decisions. I didn't say anything, but in my heart I agreed. He drank too much and cheated a lot, and constantly put me down. I became angry and resentful. I hated being his wife. My marriage failed...miserably. I can't escape that. But I am getting to the point that I don't want to. I want to learn and grow and admit my short-comings. I want to have hope for the future.

What does it mean to be happier?

I'm happier than I can remember being in at least two years (probably three if I'm being honest). I have surrounded myself with people who are kind to me. I'm learning to love myself. It's hard. There are times I look in the mirror and all I see are flaws. I see what he told me to see. I see a small chest and a wide butt. I see eyes that look too small if I wear glasses so I wear contacts instead. I hear his voice telling me I don't dress nice enough; I should wear more dresses and less blue jeans. I hear him telling me that he "just isn't attracted to women with short hair." I remember him putting his hand on my leg or stomach and shaking it to make my fat jiggle. I remember feeling ugly and never good enough. I remember telling him how I went from being a girl who struggled with self-esteem issues before I met to to being a girl who hated her body after being married to him for almost four years. I remember weighing 125 pounds and being told I needed to join a gym and get in shape. I remember him telling me he was afraid I was going to get fat. I remember how badly it hurts for the man who vowed to love me forever say such hateful, hurtful words to me.

So I'm happier now. But what does it mean? Can I be as happy as I used to be before this marriage? Can I change the way I look at myself. Will I ever not hear his words? Will I ever feel good about myself? I am happier than I have been in years and I still don't completely love myself. But I am working on it. I don't chastise myself if I eat fast food. I cut my hair above my shoulders and I like it. I wear jeans whenever I want and feel happy doing so. If I exercise it's because I want to, not because someone is making me feel guilty for not exercising. I am learning to be happy with myself. What I'm learning is I have to believe in myself.

I think if I could have one wish it would be for people to be happy with themselves and to never let anyone steal their happiness. I think about my  nieces and my nephew. I think about how I love them. The thought that they may doubt their worth and dislike themselves breaks my heart. When I work with kids who are struggling with self-esteem they are often given an assignment to make a list of their positive attributes. The thought behind this is you have to replace negative thoughts with positive ones. This isn't only for kids and teenagers though. I need to apply this to my life. We, as a society, all need to apply this. Replace "I'm ugly" with "I'm beautiful." Replace "I'm stupid" with "I'm smart." The truth is you believe what you hear. If you hear bad things about yourself, then you'll believe them. So change the cycle. Say good things about yourself. Tell yourself you are smart, beautiful, kind, happy. Then slowly you will start to be happier, too.

When Anger Creeps In

My last post was all about how happy I was to be moving on, and I am. But then he comes back in. We have to talk about the divorce and filing taxes and blah blah blah. It's been weeks since I've talked to him and I have been happy, confident in my decision to move on. Then comes the divorce talk. "Are you sure? Have you really thought about this? Is there nothing that could fix us?" I'm not belittling him or his questions. But seriously, no word from him until I bring up working on the divorce and then he decides to start sending me messages on facebook of gifs cute kittens and happy couples. Plus he wants to tell me all about his problems.

I know I seem unsympathetic, and maybe I am, but I begged for affection for the last three years. All he did was make me feel worthless and sad and alone. It's not fair to play on my emotions, to talk about his bills, his health, his loneliness. I was lonely for years while he stayed out all night "with his friends." When I was sick, he was largely unsympathetic, saying "I just can't handle it."  I spent over a year paying all the bills and he refused to consider eliminating any of his bills. He needed to have three trucks on the insurance because one might break down and then he would need to drive the other one (granted he did pay all the bills while I was in nursing school).

Initially I felt bad when I heard this, but then I just became angry. When we were together I needed a partner. I needed a friend. I needed to be shown love and affection. I needed my husband to come home at night. I needed my husband to want to spend time with me. I needed a husband who built me up. I only had that for about the first year of marriage.

I am angry. I am hurt and angry. You don't get to decide to put in effort after I've already left and am happy for the first time in years. You don't get to say you didn't know that you loved me until now. It's crap. I don't know what to do with this anger when it comes rushing to the surface. I don't hate him. I wish him well. I just don't wish to be with him anymore. I know I still need more time. I'm clearly not over everything that has happened if I can still get so worked up. But I am starting. I am getting my feelings out, little by little, even if no one reads this it's here. It's part of my healing; it's part of my journey.

Ready for Something New

It is strange when you feel ready to start moving on. Not in terms of dating, but in general terms of life. I suddenly want to decorate the apartment I've been living in for two months. I'm picking out color schemes and wondering "Why not pale pink and grey? Why not live in a place that girly and absent of mounted animal heads? Why not make my apartment somewhere comfortable, safe, and a reflection of me?"

So much of our old house was not mine. He owned it before we got married; he never failed to remind me that it was his house (even when he lost his job and I made the payments). He reluctantly agreed to let me paint. He begrudgingly  agreed to move my new bedroom set into our bedroom (thus moving his 20 plus year old set into the spare bedroom). Even then he complained about it the entire four years we were married. He kept insisting on filling the small living room walls with mounted deer skulls. He almost always refused to get rid of anything to make room for me and the few things I owned.

Now my apartment is smaller, but it's being filled with the things I love. There are no arguments; there is peace. I have not had peace in my home in such a long time. I honestly forgot what it was like to be happy at home.

So, I'm decorating my living room in pink and grey, and my bedroom in blue and tan. I'm hanging pretty pictures on the walls, and using floral prints wherever I want. I'm only bringing things into my home that make me feel happy. I think this would be a wise rule for everyone to live by.

Like I said, it is a strange feeling to want to start fresh, to want to purge your life of everything that was unhealthy, that evokes bad memories. Don't get me wrong, there were some good memories in those four years, and I try to remember them.It's hard though when there's so much hurt. I still have regrets and remorse. But I also have hope, and this strange feeling is a good kind of strange.

The End

I can remember knowing that there was trouble was brewing for quite a while. I can remember the fights, the tears, the feeling of being utterly alone. I can remember his words; I can remember my words. I can remember it all.

I can remember the night I found out. I did not sleep that night. I read every message in his phone. I read about his affair. I read about how he regretted marrying me. I read about how his mother knew and said nothing "so as not to make him angry."

And suddenly it all made sense. What I had suspected for months was right there in black and white, staring at me, mocking me. I was sick, physically sick. I left, told him I wanted a divorce, and had moved out within a week.

We didn't speak for nearly two months. When we finally did, it was our wedding anniversary. He called. I cried, we talked about possibly working things out. I tried. I saw him once a week for about a month. But then I again found more evidence that he hadn't really changed, and more importantly, I had changed. I was no longer willing to put his happiness and feelings before my own. I was done for good; I had reached the end.

This is were I am starting over. Yes I had moved out, but many of my belongings were being stored. It was as though unpacking in my apartment would make things final. Then I realized that things have been final for some time. My heart didn't break the night I found out about the affair (affairs if you include emotional affairs as cheating, which I do). My heart started breaking probably 2 1/2-3 years ago. I can't pinpoint the beginning of the end, as it wasn't one singular event. My ex had spent the past few years criticizing me constantly, telling me I wasn't good enough. I walked on eggshells not to make him angry. Meanwhile, the anger inside of me began to grow until I was like a volcano constantly on the edge of eruption. And yes, I did erupt often near the end of our marriage. I said my fair share of cruel words to him, also; I told him I hated him more than once. I wasn't proud of that. I'm still not. Our relationship had not been healthy for a long time.

This blog is my attempt to channel this pain into something productive; to learn to love myself again; to heal the scars. This is not an attempt to bash my ex (even though this post may seem that way). I have forgiven him, and pray that he finds peace and forgiveness within himself. This is my journey.