Yesterday I could not sleep. No matter which way I turned, or how my body slithered; it seemed that nothing could help this brain from switching off. Thoughts ran though my mind. Thoughts of loves lost, pain, hurt, revenge, betrayal, deceit, and lies. As I envisioned myself as the victim once more, tears came pouring down. Fragile and weak I felt myself crumble, as I hit the ground. How had I become so weak? How had I allowed this to happen to me? Who was in control? Is this the hand of God playing a game with me? Testing me? How much more grief can I take? How many more mistakes will I make? Is he laughing from above?
But the thought that scared me the most was the thought I had of death. At such a moment of vulnerability I welcomed death with open arms. If this was what life had to offer me, was there reason to go on? I’d be relieved to leave the pain of this world. Finally let it all go, leave it all behind.
I could play dumb, but I know exactly why these thoughts were going through my mind. I had just come back from meeting my husband, with both his lawyer and mine. We had tried to negotiate, to settle things between us, so that maybe if we were fortunate and smart we wouldn’t have to drag this thing out any longer or go to court allowing someone else to judge our lives.
Result: Unsuccessful!
And so I came home in tears… trying to figure out what that meant for the course of my life. How much longer would I have to endure this hell? Should I just settle and end this misery? Emotional health vs. financial stability, that’s the real question right now. Seems like there’s no right answer to the question called life and the only way out is OUT.
I had been fighting this for so long, not wanting to leave empty-handed. I wanted to leave with my head held high. Initially my revengeful self wanted for him to have to sell the house. That way both of us would have to start from nothing. I already got screwed once. Vengeance and anger motivated me to stick it out. But after nine month that flame in me had long died down.
I could ask 1000 people what to do. But each answer would be different. Let it go. Fight! In the end it’s my choice to make. And what does it matter to them? Why would they care? It’s not really their problem. Today is a Friday. I haven’t had a single phone call. No they really don’t care. Would anyone know if I was gone? Would they miss me? What if tomorrow unexpectedly I died? How long would it take till someone noticed?
In the deep dark catacombs of my mind, it’s not death I’m worried about. It’s the fact that if I died I would legally still be married to my husband. Would that mean that he would get everything that was mine? Would that mean he won? Only for that reason I’m not ready to die. Could I make you my witnesses? Would you testify that I wanted my fair share, that I wanted him to have nothing of mine?
Divorcing Mr. Wrong 