The moment you realize your marriage is over it’s like hitting a wall. A wall you’ve been running towards at full speed for months, for years. There’s something different about that moment. Not all the moments leading up to it. All the conversations, all of the thoughts. You know it’s ending. You know it’s coming. But you just can’t get there. You can’t visualize the reality of what you will do, what you will feel, how you will react.
You anticipate tears, and fear, a complete sadness of all that you’ve done and been through. Can you survive? Will the kids survive? Will he survive? So many unknowns until you’ve hit that wall.
Sometimes I wonder if my response was unhealthy, or just my way of dealing. The moment we confirmed it with “it’s over, we’ll sell the house, I’m going to stay somewhere for a few days” I should have cried. I should have screamed. I should have had an urge to say “NO, let’s fight for this!” But I didn’t. I sat on the couch with Owen. I hugged him and stared blankly. I texted my best friend “It’s over.”
When the dust settled, I went into action on how I can move forward a single mom and provide the best life for my children, and the best life for me. Where will I go? What support will I have? How will I be a good mom, a good employee, and still take care of me? What will our co-parenting look like? What can we emotionally handle?
As things progressed I kept having this major need within me to be sadder…. to mourn. Sometimes I would force myself to have thoughts of “maybe this can work” or “what if it’s over and I made a mistake.” I think only because I thought I should have those feelings. Not because I actually felt them.
Truth is that I was excited. I was excited to be myself. Live my life. Live without the resentment and anger. Without the feeling that I was doing everything for everyone, and nothing for myself. Not once since I moved have I thought the wrong decision was made. Though I keep telling myself to question it, mainly out of guilt. I shouldn’t think this was right. I shouldn’t be so sure. But I am.
I love him. I love him in a way where I know we are linked for life. He is the father of my children. Someone who does understand me and cares about me. And someone who I want to be truly happy, and find someone that makes him feel like he deserves to feel. Someone that shares his interests, and laughs at his dirty humor. Someone that accepts his faults and doesn’t dwell on them. Someone who’s not me.
And in the future, as my children start to realize the reality of our situation, I hope they can understand and see what a great support system they have in us. That no matter what, they are loved with every ounce of our being. And by knowing that this was right, we made it better for them.