You know, I couldn’t even tell you what the argument was about, I honestly couldn’t. At that point, he was at the height of his depression and self medicating regime and I was fed up to the point that I fought back when provoked instead of just letting it go with the thought “he’s having a rough time, he’s sick and doesn’t meant it”.
We were driving home from his mother’s house, both seething, the tension in the car was palpable. “You’re such a dumb cunt, I really don’t know why I’m with you”. My first thought to cross my mind was “he’s lucky he’s driving, I would smack him across the face for that”. I remember the anger that day, I’ve never had it recreated. But the man I loved and took vows with just called me a derogatory name and inspired a thought of violence; there’s something wrong here.
“I don’t even know if I want children anymore”… I asked him what he meant, thinking I had misheard him. One of our common goals as husband and wife, what we worked toward, why I stuck around to try and help him as long as I did, why I kept our marriage on life support; was just dashed in that moment. In that moment the glue that was holding my battered heart together, gave. My shoulders heaved with two heavy sobs as silent tears rolled down my face..For those that know me, when I am upset/angry, I don’t tend to yell, I am quite efficient with my words and don’t require more audibility to get my point across. But that day, in the confines of our little Pontiac, I screamed… Every hurt that I’d been holding in, every injustice, every argument; I let out in a matter of minutes. I screamed until I hurt and could barely speak from the hoarseness of throat… “Then why am I even bothering?! I’ve been patient!.. I’ve tried to help!.. I’ve been a good wife!.. and now this is what I’m getting?! Why are we doing this?!!!”… I then sat in silence the remainder of the car ride home.
During the roller coaster my marriage had become in the end, there was a pattern in our final months together; a fight, he’d threaten to leave, a teary argument from me, he’d say “maybe we should get a divorce”, I’d beg him not to go outlining everything we could do to work on the marriage (or what I would do, as if I had to convince him I was worth staying with), he’d leave our home for a few hours, he’d come back, we would both apologize (regardless of whom was wrong), and go about our daily routine and living our separate lives under the same roof……
That day when we got home, the pattern attempted one final repetition. “I think we should get a divorce”, he scowled at me shortly after we got in the door. “Fine”, I was defeated. He said he was leaving, huffing around our apartment and throwing things in a duffle bag, “he meant it this time”… I sat quietly and just stared at the wall. Accepting a dream was crushed; even though throughout the last year things were slowly dying, I still held onto hope, love would get us through; that day I accepted that The Beatles were wrong, love isn’t all you need. He prolonged physically leaving our apartment as much as possible, even saying he needed to have a quick shower before leaving as he wasn’t sure where he was going or for how long. When I heard the water of the shower start, I came out of my catatonia to get up from my spot on the couch go into his jacket pockets and retrieve the key to the apartment. I then wrote a quick note stating that “he was leaving and withdrew his interest from the rental agreement to this apartment on this date” (thank God we were only renting at the time, things could’ve been worse); I had this ready for him before his departure from the apartment. No more games, no more psychological warfare; if he was leaving, he was REALLY leaving. I advised him I had his key, and if he was really leaving, he should have no problem signing this and to let me know when he’d like to pick up the rest of his things, I’m a reasonable woman and wanted this to go as smoothly as possible. He angrily signed the paper and left, he was pissed that I even thought to do anything like that I think.
A couple hours later there was a knock at the door, “I’m sorry” he said when I opened the door. I let him come in and we sat down in our living room, opposite sides of the couch, just looking at eachother. “I’m sorry too… this is done… I want a divorce”….
As said, I can’t even remember what the final argument was that brought our ending marriage to a head.. But I remember every emotion, every detail of the final words/actions, I can even recall the sensory memory of how much my throat ached from screaming….All this recalled from about this time of year….. Five years ago.
I’ve moved past my marrage, obviously… You’ve read some of my attempts, my lessons, my successes, and my failures at this… I’ve learned valuable lessons about how I act in relationships, what I want from my relationships, how to communicate in my relationships, and what I don’t want. My marriage showed me alot about myself, and it took quite a while to view it as a positive.
My life has continued, I’ve continued to grow, and the hurt has even faded…But I’m afraid the hurt never goes away completely, you just learn to refocus on the positives in life and the new opportunities while setting aside the ebb of slight ache in that part of your heart.
I still remember the end.