Thursday, February 2, 2017


Tomorrow is D-Day.

Divorce Day. Tomorrow the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with is going to walk into a courtroom with his attorney and put the final nail in our marriage's coffin. I will be sitting at work at 1:30 p.m. when this happens and there won't be anything I can do about it. Everything I have done to try and stop this from happening is meaningless. I don't think a nuclear war could stop this. Or a zombie apocalypse. Or the Rapture.

Basically, my husband wants me out of his life and he's not going to bend. This is it.

I know I said I would consider this Independence Day, and I still do to an extent. I think I will feel better once I move into my own place and remove myself from the situation. Living with the person you wanted to be with forever and hearing him repeatedly say he doesn't want you takes its toll on a girl, you know? I'm anxious to start over but remain in Milan. You'd think I would want to leave the town that Tom and I were supposed to grow old in together, but I don't. He never liked it there. I think he resented me for us being there. He's selling our home and going back to the town he considers his own so he can sit on a bar stool whenever he pleases and not answer to anyone, especially a mentally ill wife who drives him crazy. Milan is my town. I want to stay.

There's a whole army of people who are "Team Tom." They think I'm crazy, a drunk, a drama queen, a terrible wife. These people have no idea what I've been through, what goes on in my head and what my seemingly perfect husband has done to contribute to the demise of the marriage. He's the martyr. He did "everything" for an ungrateful woman who systematically destroyed it all.

That's their take on it. But it isn't mine- nor is it the truth. I lived it and I know what really happened. What they think of me no longer matters. I'm not going to be gossiped about and torn down by people who pretended to be my friend for over three years.

They don't have a clue what it was like.

I'm giving him back to them.

They can have him.


  1. Turn the pain into strength... his final strike. He'll never be able to hurt you again.. nurse the wound. Care for yourself slowly and with the love you've deserved all along.

  2. I hope you feel as healthy as you sound, my friend. Nothing about any of this is easy. I've fallen down, made poor choices, believed liars (even when I knew they were lying), and given my heart when I should have turned and run. This isn't the best thing that could happen, but it isn't the worst. I'm finally standing up for myself and it feels good. That's what you're doing. Standing up, standing out, not hiding. Good for you. Barb