Emotional turbulence is nothing new to me, with regards to my marriage, at least. We've been together for 15 yrs, 13 1/2 of them married, happiness intermintent. But I loved him, he never had to question that. I loved him.
I loved him through the abuse, telling myself the hate wasn't him. I loved him when I left him the first time, making sure he knew the love wasn't gone, just my ability to tolerate the constant anger. I gave it to him freely, because for all I lack, I have love to spare. And he needed it so badly. So it was his.
But he doesn't want it anymore, and my heart is just failing me today. It hurts to breathe.
Update: I wanted to say thank you. The support given by Kossaks is the best support around, and I cannot tell you how much it means to me. Thank you.
This is all pointless, I know. The marriage is over, the plans for divorce being written up in legalese as I type. I will eventually be just fine, and know the best thing for both of us is to go our seperate ways. Seperate as ways can get when I am living on the same Bus Route so the kids lives are disrupted as little as possible.
I suspected he was having an affair, confronted him on it, and was told it was none of my concern, oh by the way, I am getting a divorce. I asked who she was, this time the run around was that if I wanted to believe he was having an affair, that was MY problem, but that it didn't have any bearing on the divorce.
I know he is right. I know the marriage was in for the kids only territory. I know that this woman is incedental, a symptom of a marriage gone horribly wrong.
But I loved him. I took him inside of me, gave birth to his children. I held him for so many nights, and now I have to let go. I should WANT to let go, I should throw him away from me as far and fast as I can.
I do not have the sense of self-preservation necessary to survive him.
He is having an affair, and I am packing, and I still love him. And it hurts, so fucking bad I feel like I could break from it. Why?
I should call her and thank her for taking him off my hands. He has been abusive, saying the most hateful things imaginable. Things I am too embarrassed to confess, because I loved him through all of it, and what the hell does that say about me?
I loved him, and now he doesn't want my love anymore, and I find myself writing this diary to get in black and white, to maybe analyze it and see what is the thing I am missing. Because I am finding all of this so hard to deal with. To wrap my mind around it. To come to terms with all the ugliness the death of a relationship involves. I did not expect this hole that showed up, this void where he was supposed to be forever. I loved him, and it wasn't enough.