I'm not the only one to face divorce. Not by a long shot. So, I don't expect sympathy. I know I have to just pick my own ass up and figure out a way to get through tonight. And then I have to figure out how to get up tomorrow. And the next day. I've got to figure out how to face lonely hours and darkness and quiet.
And I have to figure out what to do...or if...with this site. I've had this website for years. It's seen be through ups and downs in my libido. Ups and downs in my marriage. Sexual experiments. Disappointments. It's like a mirror of my marriage. Which is why it's so hard to figure out what to do with it. Do I put it away with the ring? I mean, my number one reader was him. Do I continue to write knowing he'll be reading? Do I continue to post photos, knowing a piece of me will be doing it for him?
Will I feel like writing? Will I need to reach out and hear just one friendly voice every night?
I'm so fucking lost right now. And I'm sorry for the "dirty laundry" post. There's not one damn thing anyone can do. I'm just marinating in my own regret...with a bit of gin mixed in.
I already miss him...and he's like 25 feet away. I've moved a few of my things to the trailer parked outside our house, just so he can stop sleeping on the couch and we can at least both be someone comfortable. But, our son doesn't know (for real), so I'm in the house for meals and during the hours when he's awake. Today, though. I just couldn't stay in the living room...my son watching cartoons on his laptop, and my "husband" on the couch napping. I couldn't keep up the charade. I had to cry...not just a little. I had to sob...full body, shaking sobs. Like I'm mourning a death. Which I am, in a way.
I know I'll be okay...one day.
But right now I'm not. I'm so far from being okay I can feel the shards of my broken heart cutting my veins from the inside out. I'm a shell.
It's my fault. I took the love of my life for granted. I didn't love him the way he needed. The way he begged to be treated...with tears. The man who treated me like a goddess...loved me like I were perfect...for him. The man who accepted me with all my faults. The man who couldn't accept being disregarded one more day. Believe me...I don't blame him. He warned me. So many times he gave me chances to change. But I squandered them. I wasted those chances like they were water in the first world.
He took off his ring today. I noticed his naked hand and it made me want to throw up. Seriously. My stomach lurched.
How does a person survive when their soul has been ripped from their chest?
I'm sorry for the dark post. But, I know I've got some loyal readers here. People who've, in a way, become friends. And I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing in the coming months...or years. I won't stop feeling. And at my blackest hours, I seek the pen (or keyboard). I cry out my soul to the page (or screen) and I find some degree of solace in the release.
I can't stop living. I have a child. I have parents. Quite honestly, if I didn't, right now, I don't think I'd believe I could go on. But, any of you who've been where I am understand that kind of gut-wrenching pain.
For now, just know that I'm hurting. I'm hurting harder than I ever have. But I have faith that I'll come out of it. Maybe stronger. In time.