The second in a series of posts on the beginning of the end of my marriage, and a look back at our relationship, from meeting, dating, engagement, and the in-laws (that could be an entire blog in itself, but that’s a story for another day…!).
Yesterday, I started my series on the beginning of the end of my marriage, and I’m already amazed, yet, touched, by the comments from my blog “family” (and real friends/family) on how they can relate to this series. So, without further ado, picking up where I left off yesterday…
It was Monday. And I was a zombie. I didn’t know how I would make it through the day, and more importantly, not let on what the hell was going on in my life, because it was written all over my face. One of my sisters and I work together, and we drive to work together, and I tried my best to mask it, because if I said it out loud, it would feel more real, and I was so afraid to say it. Especially to her, because she knows me practically more than I know myself.
I held it in for all of probably an hour. Then I IMd her (two offices away – yes, we do this daily, IM each other, it’s just what we do…) and told her that something was wrong. That we had a talk last night. That I didn’t know what was happening. She IMd me back…what do you mean? WITH you two? You’re scaring me, what do you mean? I’m freaking out. I IMd her back, don’t make me cry, I don’t want to talk about it. She came running into my office, shut the door. My face crumpled the minute I looked her in the eye and started crying. She started crying, she looked confused, as bewildered as me. I told her what happened. She immediately denied it – the same reaction I had – how can it be YOU? It’s not you. He’s confused. There’s nothing wrong, it’s not you. It’s not you. It’s not you.
At that point, it was too late, I was bawling, I was a mess. I couldn’t mask it. I went home. I called Pete and told him I was going home, that I couldn’t handle it. He agreed to come home, too. I drove like a zombie home, I was crying, I was numb, my mind was racing.
What’s happening? This isn’t real. It’s something else. It’s not me. It’s not me. It can’t be. Please God, fix this.
I walked in the door, sat down on the couch in silence. Pete walked in the door and looked at me. Scared. Confused. A shameful look in his eye. He was him, but he wasn’t. I was already losing him and I didn’t even know it. I hugged him, he half-heartedly hugged me back. We talked…and talked…and talked…and cried.
Over and over, it came back to us. There’s something missing, he said. I’m not IN love with you anymore. I love you, but I am not in love with you. There’s something missing. I don’t want to be married. I want to run away. I want to leave everything and just run. I don’t need the house. I don’t need the cats. I don’t need this. I don’t need you. I think I want a divorce.
I was stunned.
He said it. I want a divorce.
And he was adamant.
I told him that I didn’t think it was us, I think if I wasn’t there, he would miss me and realize it’s not me. He was still adamant, but we agreed that I would move out for the week and live with my sister. No contact. No phone calls, no emails. That was a Monday night. I packed up a week’s worth of clothes. I was crying. I couldn’t see straight. I was numb. On my way out the door, I gave him a hug, and a kiss on the cheek, and I was bawling. I told him that I loved him. He told me he loved me too, but his eyes were a million miles away, and his face looked crushed. He knew was killing me from the inside out, but he was still doing it.
I drove to my sister’s house, bawling. I walked in the door, and she was in the kitchen. My brother in law was on the couch, and he just sat there and didn’t say a word (I think he was trying to respect my privacy, perhaps). I walked into the kitchen, looked at my sister and just broke down and cried. She held me, tighter than anyone has ever held me, and we both bawled, and cried, and cried some more. Despite how close we are, we never hug. Ever. But I couldn’t let go, I wanted to just hide in her arms and make it all go away. At that moment, I knew.
There was no turning back. My marriage was irretrievably broken. The pain I was feeling was irreversible. The saddest, hardest, most painful feeling I have ever felt. It literally felt as if my heart was breaking. In my mind, all I was thinking, over and over was, I’m 29 and I’m getting divorced. No, no, NO, this is not happening…what happened to my life? My perfect, wonderful life?
..and why me? God, why me?
Phew, that was so hard to write…I’m right there, in my sister’s kitchen, and I’m crying. Right now, I can’t help it, it just comes back with a whoosh.
To be continued…