The Sadness

I realized today that a few of my recent posts have been angry. I believe that anger is warranted and justified. A week before Thanksgiving my wife of 15 years told me that she never really loved me.

So yes, I’m pissed.

Taken from my free writing journal.

But I’m not pissed all or even most of the time. What I am most of the time is profoundly, acutely, and overwhelmingly sad. The anger comes in waves, maybe five or six times a week. But the sadness is an always-present undertow that tugs at me all day. It’s an unrelenting agony of despair that I don’t wish on anyone.

Often when people get divorced, it’s a mutual decision and both parties are relieved when it’s over. They grew apart, got together too young, or fell out of love. They don’t really want to get divorced, but they don’t want to stay together either. They realize this at about the same time, talk about it, and do it.

That’s not what happened to me. I was blindsided. I stood in my kitchen and listened to my wife tell me that it was over. I fought like hell for the next two months to convince her (and myself) that it wasn’t. I argued and debated. I pleaded and reasoned. I cried and begged. But she was done with me and nothing I said or did made any difference.

The only pain I can think of that could be worse than this is losing a child. I won’t equate the two, but I am mourning a loss. I’ve lost my marriage and fifteen years of my life. I’ve lost my wife, my confidant, and my best friend.

Today, to be divorced means the sadness hurts so bad I can hardly stand it.

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