~ not another bitter rant ~
I wasn’t having an affair. Divorce is tough enough without friends and family whispering behind your back that the reason you told your husband you wanted to split was because you were shagging some dude on the side. Why else would she leave? As if I don’t have needs other than primitive, carnal release.
One friend tried to convince me to stay in the marriage because my husband made a good income and we lived in a nice house. Good God, woman. Have we made no progress since June met Ward at the door?
The decision to leave was also not, despite what some would think, some whim I had gotten into my head. I spent ten quiet years coming to terms with what I was doing. My struggle was in knowing if I should continue to work on the marriage or if I should cut my losses and leave.
I have always played the good guy in my life. I suddenly became the villain.
Here’s the thing. Not everyone who ends a thirty-year marriage is a bad person. And not everyone on the other end of that decision is a lying, cheating bastard. Sometimes both parties are good people with good intentions who just got caught up in life and forgot about the most important thing in that life. Sometimes divorce is just a thing that needs to happen so both partners can feel alive again and continue to grow.
So here I am. Growing. And trying my damnedest to feel alive while I do it.