what the fuck happened to my marriage?
He left me.
I don't want to be writing this down. I don't want to see it in print. I drop hints and talk about my misery and beg for support from my friends but i've not really written it down. and i'm thinking maybe i should. so here goes.
he left me.
We had our issues. I thought we'd work through them. I never understood why he would get so explosively angry. why he got so frustrated. why the fuse got shorter and shorter. I just tried to prevent the spark. It didn't work. It was always something.
There was counseling. Twenty dollars a session from the local christian college. Athiest marriages accepted. We couldn't afford better anyway. Quit that when we realized that we were paying $20 an hour for a stranger to moderate our arguments. I hoped we would work through future issues with things we learned there. but we didn't learn anything.
There was Farmageddon. I found myself making excuses for him. Trying to explain to new friends how we had a different type of relationship, independent, but inside i was dying - he wouldn't even pretend to participate most of the time. but i was still glad for the time he would play along. When Goddamn Gallows played and my back hurt so bad I couldn't stand up straight, i was glad to be leaning on him. Warmth and comfort. As with most of our trips i breathed a sigh of relief when we made it home without killing each other.
The next month is a blur, now. Lots of arguing. Digs at my appearance. Working overtime and trying to keep up with the house and not doing good enough, getting lectures and dirty looks when i sat down for a moment. Lots of yelling. and finally a calm conversation that tore my heart out. I'm going to move out, he says. I'll be gone by the end of the month. This is August. I'm not "in love". I need to be independent. I'm a better person without you.
I take my broken heart to Tennessee. To Muddy Roots. To some of the best friends I could ask for. The phone rings just before I get out of cell service. Motorcycle wreck. Hit and run and road rash and pain, pain, pain. I know what to expect when I get home. It's gonna be pain. I make friends and try not to think about it too much, but sad songs leave me crying in front of the stage. I'm glad he's alive.
One more month. He'd lined up an apartment and started moving in before I left for TN, but now all four limbs are bandaged. He needs lots of help. I break my own heart a dozen times a day taking care of the man who doesn't love me anymore. I know he won't stay even if the bandages are perfect. Even if all the laundry is done and dinner is ready and medications are doled out. He's jealous, too ... as if i had either the time or inclination to cheat. or the desire. Since i met him, it was only him in my mind. I could have gone the rest of my life with only him. Accusations hurt so bad. I change all my passwords.
At the end of September, once he regained the ability to put on his own shoes again, i tell him that if he's going to go he needs to go. I can't keep dragging it out. He agrees. I try to make the best of the days we have left. One day he tells me he's going to be staying at his own place, and I've slept alone since. His stuff disappears from here one truckload at a time. Every empty spot in the house makes me cry. The time difference between the decision and the moveout means it is like a whole new wound.
There's a new girl, now. Already. She makes him laugh, he says. I'm devastated and glad for him at the same time. I've got my plans. I don't want to date anyone, I want to stay focused and get myself the fuck out of southern california. I want a fresh start, far away.
I loved being married. I loved my wedding, i loved the vows i made. I loved my husband, faults and all. I never would have left him. I hope he finds happy. I hope I do too.
I took my ring off yesterday.
I miss him so, so much.
he left me.
I don't want to be writing this down. I don't want to see it in print. I drop hints and talk about my misery and beg for support from my friends but i've not really written it down. and i'm thinking maybe i should. so here goes.
he left me.
We had our issues. I thought we'd work through them. I never understood why he would get so explosively angry. why he got so frustrated. why the fuse got shorter and shorter. I just tried to prevent the spark. It didn't work. It was always something.
There was counseling. Twenty dollars a session from the local christian college. Athiest marriages accepted. We couldn't afford better anyway. Quit that when we realized that we were paying $20 an hour for a stranger to moderate our arguments. I hoped we would work through future issues with things we learned there. but we didn't learn anything.
There was Farmageddon. I found myself making excuses for him. Trying to explain to new friends how we had a different type of relationship, independent, but inside i was dying - he wouldn't even pretend to participate most of the time. but i was still glad for the time he would play along. When Goddamn Gallows played and my back hurt so bad I couldn't stand up straight, i was glad to be leaning on him. Warmth and comfort. As with most of our trips i breathed a sigh of relief when we made it home without killing each other.
The next month is a blur, now. Lots of arguing. Digs at my appearance. Working overtime and trying to keep up with the house and not doing good enough, getting lectures and dirty looks when i sat down for a moment. Lots of yelling. and finally a calm conversation that tore my heart out. I'm going to move out, he says. I'll be gone by the end of the month. This is August. I'm not "in love". I need to be independent. I'm a better person without you.
I take my broken heart to Tennessee. To Muddy Roots. To some of the best friends I could ask for. The phone rings just before I get out of cell service. Motorcycle wreck. Hit and run and road rash and pain, pain, pain. I know what to expect when I get home. It's gonna be pain. I make friends and try not to think about it too much, but sad songs leave me crying in front of the stage. I'm glad he's alive.
One more month. He'd lined up an apartment and started moving in before I left for TN, but now all four limbs are bandaged. He needs lots of help. I break my own heart a dozen times a day taking care of the man who doesn't love me anymore. I know he won't stay even if the bandages are perfect. Even if all the laundry is done and dinner is ready and medications are doled out. He's jealous, too ... as if i had either the time or inclination to cheat. or the desire. Since i met him, it was only him in my mind. I could have gone the rest of my life with only him. Accusations hurt so bad. I change all my passwords.
At the end of September, once he regained the ability to put on his own shoes again, i tell him that if he's going to go he needs to go. I can't keep dragging it out. He agrees. I try to make the best of the days we have left. One day he tells me he's going to be staying at his own place, and I've slept alone since. His stuff disappears from here one truckload at a time. Every empty spot in the house makes me cry. The time difference between the decision and the moveout means it is like a whole new wound.
There's a new girl, now. Already. She makes him laugh, he says. I'm devastated and glad for him at the same time. I've got my plans. I don't want to date anyone, I want to stay focused and get myself the fuck out of southern california. I want a fresh start, far away.
I loved being married. I loved my wedding, i loved the vows i made. I loved my husband, faults and all. I never would have left him. I hope he finds happy. I hope I do too.
I took my ring off yesterday.
I miss him so, so much.
he left me.