The Brutal Truth: Part Four

Posted on | April 12, 2012 | 6 Comments

Besides, I told myself, time and again… it wasn’t as though it was all bad.

We still had good times.

We still met for lunch several times a week for Indian buffet or my favorite quick pick restaurant downtown.  We laughed and shared jokes, we played with J,  we went for evening walks together.  Marriage was just hard, marriage was just something that needed extra work, extra elbow grease… extra love.

I believed with all my heart that if I just tried harder to be what he wanted, everything would be okay.  He was still my best friend, after all.  He was still the first person I wanted to call to tell about my day, the first person I wanted to see when I was sad or lonely.  I believed I could make things work.

Only for as much as I believed that, I didn’t act on it.

Deep down, I wanted him to hurt as bad as he’d hurt me.  On the surface I told him I forgave him, told him we could make things work, but the black spot he had smeared across my heart wasn’t abating.  It was growing and spreading and entering into every interaction we had.  If he wanted something, I wanted to keep it from him.  If he loved something, I hated it; if he needed me, I turned him away.

We twirled around each other in a game of who could hurt who more; I begged for more emotional intimacy while withholding physical… he asked for more physical and withheld emotional.  We were roommates, friends, good pals… living together, raising a child… but not husband and wife, not really.

Still, I believed the good times we had together meant that it would all be okay.  I thought we were in a rough patch, an early marriage crisis of learning to share space and share lives.  For as much as I hated him for what he had done to me, I also loved him for who I knew him to be.  So we were stuck; drifting apart but still clinging to each other.  He promised to do whatever it took to fix things; I promised the same.

I went to counseling.

He pulled away from his game.

We tried to spend more time together after work, tried to remember why we fell in love.  But no matter how we tried, I couldn’t forget the way his words made me feel, the way he had scarred me when I thought he never would.  I couldn’t get past it… not even when I looked at his son, our son… the beautiful child we created.

Still… divorce? That wasn’t even something I would consider.  Divorce was for quitters and I was not a quitter.

At least not until I turned off the vacuum cleaner in April of 2011 and asked what I thought was a pretty simple question.

To be continued… 



6 Responses to “The Brutal Truth: Part Four”

  1. Meredith
    April 12th, 2012 @ 8:16 pm

    Yes, this.

    “I begged for more emotional intimacy while withholding physical… he asked for more physical and withheld emotional. We were roommates, friends, good pals… living together, raising a child… but not husband and wife, not really”

    I am living this reality right now, you expressed it perfectly. Thank you for sharing your story.

  2. Lawmomma77
    April 13th, 2012 @ 12:44 pm

    It’s such a hard place… that in-between when it isn’t all bad. Because it’s not like either of you are bad people.

  3. Jessica Armstrong
    April 12th, 2012 @ 8:55 pm

    you are amazingly strong for sharing your story, Law Momma.

    Had I gotten married to my ex, had I not given back the ring, I think this is exactly how things would have turned out for us. Friends, roomates, living together, but not really being together. That was how we spent so much of our time together when we were just boyfriend and girlfriend.

  4. Lawmomma77
    April 13th, 2012 @ 12:46 pm

    You were so smart to realize it so soon. Though I wouldn’t go back and change one moment of my marriage because it brought us both J.

  5. Roxanne Piskel
    April 13th, 2012 @ 12:23 pm

    “We were roommates, friends, good pals… living together, raising a child… but not husband and wife, not really.”

    I know how that is. I’ll thank you again & again for telling your story, your version, your truth. Sometimes I want to do the same, but I can’t bring myself to. It’s been two years since the divorce, but I can’t write about it. I still feel so much anger and resentment, filled with the “what ifs” in life. Thank you for sharing your story, so that perhaps one day I can tell my own.

  6. Lawmomma77
    April 13th, 2012 @ 12:45 pm

    You know I love you more than my luggage, dear. And I KNOW that you will tell your story one day… because it is how we unpack the bags around our necks and leave the pain behind.

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    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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