Archives for posts with tag: despair

After an aborted attempt at a house move in August (lost our buyer so I lost the house I was buying), I felt very low.  I was hanging on, believing that I only had a few more weeks to get through so when it all fell through, it hit me really hard and I felt both physically and emotionally exhausted.  I had trouble concentrating on anything, work was a struggle, and day-to-day living under the same roof with my STBEx became an even more stressful experience.

Now we have another buyer and I have made an offer on another house, which has been accepted.  Our buyers want to move quickly so I’ve said we’ll vacate even if my purchase hasn’t gone through but I’m just hoping that somehow it all comes together at the same time.  The whole situation is giving me sleepless nights – made worse by the fact that it’s been two years since I’ve had a bed to sleep in and I’m on the sofa or in my daughter’s bed.  In the middle of the night, my thoughts run wild with all sorts of problems and scenarios racing through my mind.  Then the next day, I’m exhausted and feel down, negative, anxious, all of which is made worse by extreme tiredness.  Then because I’m a fighter, and an optimist, my mood lifts and I feel positive and happy – it’s a rollercoaster.

Living in the same house as the person you’re divorcing is a surreal experience, made difficult by the fact that he blames me for everything. Sometimes he speaks to me as if everything is normal, then there’s a hugh blow up, then there’s the silent treatment, and so the cycle continues.  Somehow I manage to detach from this – most of the time anyway.  I much stronger than I used to be.  But I don’t have a home I can relax in.  I spend my days outside the house, but then I can’t get on with my life properly.  It’s not easy to say the least.  I feel as if I’m a ghost in my own life.

But despite this I’m relatively happy.  There are lots of positives in my life.  Although I have my dark days, and although they are becoming more frequent, I hold on to the hope that sometime next year, and sooner rather than later, I will be in my own place and my daughters and I (and our new addition, my daughter’s dog) will be living the life that we want: a life that is not controlled by someone else’s anger and abuse, in a happy home where there is fun and laughter, and family and friends are welcome.

In the meantime, to keep myself sane, I enjoy socialising, reading, writing, walking in the park, yoga and pilates, holidays and…

Dancing with another.

 

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I saw the solicitor. She’s drawn up the divorce papers. So I had to tell him but it’s so hard.

Nobody gets married to get divorced. And I’ve tried so hard, so very, very hard. And I hate giving up because I truly believe that there’s no problem that can’t be resolved if you just work hard enough on the solution.

But it takes two.

Not one.

And I need to feel that the other person wants Me, wants me emotionally, physically, socially, and not just the service I provide. And I’ve seen no sign of that, no sign at all in the past four or five years.

And when I try to explain how I’ve arrived at this decision, when I remind him of all the hurtful things he’s said to me, and the crushing blow each hurtful comment has dealt me, what is his response?

That he doesn’t remember saying it.

How can he casually dismiss something that has had such an impact on my confidence, self-worth, self-esteem?  That has resulted in my being in a position that I didn’t want to be in?

That has left me with no choice?

And now he says he wants things to work and that I don’t and that I’m am breaking up the family.  Which is true, I can’t argue with that.  But I’ve got nothing left to give him, I’m empty, void, depleted.

And I feel so awful.

And unreasonable.

And responsible.

And horrible.

And mean.

And small.

I’ve been preparing today for tomorrow’s session with the solicitor. It’s scary, and I felt quite emotional as I was doing it because it made me realise how bad things are and how unacceptable it is for me to put up with it.

I’ve been warned that I have a nasty battle ahead, and I’m weary, very weary, because I’m not sleeping properly. I go to bed exhausted but then can’t get to sleep and when I do, I wake up a couple of hours later and lie awake again.  And in the next room I can hear him snoring so he obviously has no problem sleeping.  It doesn’t help that I have no room of my own. I’m sleeping in my daughter’s bed because she’s temporarily moved out. I long to go to bed in a relaxed state of mind and have a satisfying night of refreshing sleep, but at the moment I feel externally aware even when I’m asleep, if that makes sense.  It’s taking its toll – I find it hard to cope during the day, difficult to concentrate on my work, and overwhelmed when I have a minor errand to do. But somehow I’m keeping my head above water.   Just.

Somewhere deep inside me is the knowledge that I can do this.  But it’s scary. In the marriage, I’ve been the driving force, organising and chasing and getting things done.  But I thought that even though I was doing it on my own, I had someone by my side supporting me. In reality, I now realise, I didn’t. It was an illusion.  So now I am really, recognisably on my own.

Whats the difference?

 

 

I have an appointment with a solicitor next week. I’d been stuck for ages, getting frustrated that I couldn’t take the action that I knew was necessary.  Ironically, when he told me he’d taken advice, I was spurred on to take advice of my own.  He’s done me a favour.

For  longer than I care to remember, I’ve been trying to make sense of the situation: why he wants us to stay together but doesn’t want ME.  Something he said made things clearer: ‘I don’t want to live in a flat’.  It’s not about me, it’s about his lifestyle.

So I predict he’s going to make this difficult. And this seems stupid to me. It’s over.  Lets move on with our individual lives because there’s no going back to what we once had many moons ago, in another life.  Why won’t he accept this reality and make it easier for us both?

I’m tired, worn out, exhausted from living in a constant of stress and tension.  I’m existing on less and less sleep.  I’m struggling to function a lot of the time.  I can’t continue like this.

And it can’t be doing him any good either.

So why is he digging his heels in?  Part of me thinks he’s hoping I’ll leave. Then he can stay in ‘his’ house.

Because that’s what he wants.

Not me.

This evening he told me not to bother coming home because I wasn’t welcome here. This followed on from him complaining that I wasn’t home in time to cook his dinner so he could go to the club to watch football.

I was at work!

He said it was my fault he couldn’t go out. I told him I hadn’t stopped him from going out, that he could have cooked his dinner earlier.

But it’s no use.

This morning I was brave. I told him we needed to sell the house so we could both find our own places to live and get on with our lives.  He refused point blank, said I couldn’t make him sell, that he wasn’t leaving, and that he wasn’t going to live in a flat.

He means it.

He’s  not going to be reasonable about this.  He calls me a crazy woman. And oh boy, is he right. I am crazy mad at him for not working with me to put this marriage right. When I tried to sit down to talk about it because I had tried so hard to get him to be part of our relationship without success, he just kept shouting and blaming me.  When I suggested counselling, he said I should go for counselling because I was the one with the problem with the relationship.  It was like talking to a brick wall.  Eventually, I got to the point when I realised it was futile and gave up. Still he made no effort. Then I reached the point where I told him we needed to separate because I was at the end of my tether.  I didn’t get married to be alone, to be in a loveless, sexless marriage where my husband didn’t want to socialise with me or come to our holiday home with me or…  Well you get the picture and I’m sure I’ve said all this before.

So we’re in this non-marriage that is unacceptable to me yet he doesn’t want it to end.  He now says he wants to go to counselling but I’ve gone beyond the point of no-return. During the past three, four, five, six, however many years, I’ve seen no sign that he cares about ME and now I think he only cares about HIM: who will cook his meals and clean his house and organise everything and deal with the paperwork?

And so now I’m the crazy woman.

Today I asked him if he remembered all the times I’d asked him to switch off the TV (it could be on fourteen hours a day) and he said yes.  I asked him why he thought I did that and he said because I wanted us to spend time together.  I asked him whether he turned off the TV and he said no.  What is there not to understand about why I’m completely disillusioned?

But I just don’t think he’ll ever understand.  I’m so lonely in this marriage that I’d rather be alone.  And now he’s accusing me of wanting to break up the family.

When I tried so hard to keep everything together.

And so today I took my biggest step so far.

I phoned a solicitor and said the words I never thought I’d hear myself saying: I want advice about a divorce.

I am trapped in misery.

And I have to get out.

Am I wrong?

There are two MEs: Happy Me and Sad Me.

I often meet Happy Me but she’ll only occasionally come into my home.  She comes back with me but rarely steps over the threshold, although she often looks through the window, just to check I’m OK.  Sometimes she waits in the car for me, or she’ll be there when I turn a corner or stop at the traffic lights, or I’ll meet her at the gym or in a coffee shop or she’ll come to lunch with me and my friends.  She’s always there when I go dancing.  Life’s great when Happy Me’s around: she’s so positive; full of fun and laughter and ideas.  We have a fantastic time together.

The only problem is Sad Me often drags along with us, spoiling our fun.  Happy Me and I usually manage to shake her off, lose her in the crowd or just ignore her as she sits in the corner and sulks.  But sometimes she’s more persistent and no matter what we do, she’s still there, with her miserable face and her negative outlook.  She’s not frightened to come into my home.  She’s waiting on the doorstep when I get back from the fun times with Happy Me.  She pushes past me to get in first and she trails from room to room behind me, looking sour.

Happy Me and I are plotting to eliminate Sad Me for once and for all.

We’re going to bombard her with our happiness.

Until she can take no more.

 

It’s the morning after the night before.

It’s silent treatment time.  Again.  The same old pattern.

I don’t know what he wants from me. He doesn’t want things as they are but he can’t seem to say exactly what he does want except that he seems to want me to change in some way but can’t tell me in what way. It’s as though only I can put things right, from his point of view, and I don’t know what to do because it’s not clear what he wants me to do.  I go round and round in a quagmire of confusion, feeling that I’m getting something horribly wrong and if I only I could be clear about what I’m getting wrong, then I could take some steps to put it right.

Does any of this make sense?

I was starting to come out of my protective shell but now I’m clammed back up inside – again.

He wants us to laugh and joke but how can I speak when I am the taboo subject, when all I feel is his disapproval, when on principle he dislikes everything I do?  It’s like trying to reason with a madman.  He says he doesn’t want it to go on like this, but then sits back and expects me to make it better, without giving any input into how he   thinks this can be achieved and, it appears, without thinking that he has to do anything because it’s all my fault.

Is it any wonder I’m confused?

He says “It’s because you woke up that morning and decided whatever it was you decided”.  I decided I couldn’t continue in the relationship in the way it was and I voiced that and he sees that as the starting point, that on some whim I just had that thought.  In reality, I had been trying to talk to him about it for years, trying to get things on track, trying to mend what was becoming more and more broken.  But he didn’t respond.  And I didn’t know how to get through.  So I put it bluntly “I think we should separate” and now everything has become my fault and I am making him unhappy.  “You’ve got what you want” he says.  What does that mean?  How?  In what way?  It’s all about how I’ve wronged him.

But what about me?

Frequently when I read other people’s blogs about the pain and agony they are suffering in a tortuous relationship and how they blame themselves for the situation, tears well in my eyes, and overflow.  I feel their despair and I cry.

And I want to reach out and hug them, comfort them, beg them not to be so hard on themselves, reassure them that they are not alone, no matter how lonely they might feel.

Today I read back through my blog.

And I cried.

I’m feeling weak, vulnerable and tearful, and I’m giving up hope.  I feel battered by the recent storms and waiting for the next one.

This morning, I’ve been given the silent treatment again.  I don’t know what I’ve done wrong this time but no doubt I will find out soon enough.  I want to go back to bed and hide under the duvet and listen to music and cry – but I can’t, I’ve got two new clients to see.

The counsellor asked me where my sanctuary was and I told her that I go out.  She said that was wrong: I should be able to relax in my own home.  But I can’t, even when he’s not here.

So I go dancing or sit in coffee shops or go to the gym or see friends.  But while I’m doing those things, I feel guilty, a bad person.  And so I’m starting to not enjoy them either, even though they do offer some temporary relief.

So once I no longer find sanctuary in going out, where will my sanctuary be?

I wish I hadn’t woken up earlier this year feeling that I couldn’t do any more to make the relationship work.  I wish I hadn’t told him that I thought we should separate (he completely ignored this and hasn’t mentioned it – it’s like I never said it).  I was hoping this would make him see that things were getting desperate and needed to be addressed but it’s only ended up with me being blamed.  I wish I could have just gone on making the effort and getting on with things.

But that wasn’t enough for me.

I wish I’d kept quiet.

Because I’ve opened up a can of worms and they’re wriggling all over me and I can’t get them back in the tin but I can’t get rid of them either.

And so it’s the weekend and I’m feeling low; like there’s nothing to look forward to.  I can’t be me.  He doesn’t like me reading, listening to music, dancing, going to the gym, laughing with our children, having friends and family round, visiting friends and family, wearing bangles.  The list is getting longer and more bizarre.  And I know this is stupid, but I kind of go along with it to a certain extent, or if I rebel, I feel guilty and that’s eating away at me.

Did I mention that he works every weekend and has done for the last thirteen years?  I’ve supported him; I’ve not complained; I’ve made it easier for him.  I got on with my life, making the best of it, but now me getting on with things has become the problem.  When really I was just trying to be supportive and accommodating.  It feels so unfair.

I say very little about what I do now, as if I’m denying my naughty existence.  I mentioned this week that I was going to rejoin the gym’s running club because I’d seen the coach and he was asking why I’d given up.  Husband had a look of disgust on his face.  I can’t challenge him because he’s not actually saying anything.  He defends himself with “I never said you can’t do it”.

But I’m fed up with the disapproving looks or the tone of voice that makes a nice statement into a nasty one.

And I’m so fed up with feeling like a bad person for wanting to live a life.

I stayed in last night.  Our communication was practical and non-committal – like talking about the weather.

And I looked across at him, and he stared at the TV news, and I thought: Is this the life you really want, husband? It’s just an existence waiting for death.  And the thought that this would be my life filled me with dread, sadness, misery.  And I just can’t understand why he wants us to live this life.  Or why he wants to live this life because, forgetting myself, surely it can’t be any fun for him.

Can anyone explain?

We are back from our cruise and I feel a wreck.  I don’t know where to begin.

The argument the night before we went has left a very bitter taste:

I can’t be me.

I feel low.

My creativity has left me.

I can’t concentrate.

I have so much to write about but I can’t seem to start.  I could tell you about the name I was called; or how I keep finding tears in my eyes when I never cry; or how I couldn’t relate to other people when I was with him; or how I felt trapped; or how my daughter said it was lovely at home without him because she could have her friends round and sit downstairs rather than in her bedroom; or how I’m frightened to do or say anything in case I trigger another argument that I just can’t deal with at the moment; or how the list of things he doesn’t like me doing is getting longer and more bizarre; or…

I could just give you to this song, which I recently discovered and absolutely adore.  It feels like I’m singing it – not because of the words – but because of the hurt and anger and sadness and despair and weariness that seem to emanate from it.  It is full of the raw emotion that I’m feeling.  I find it comforting.