Circling the Drain

I’m not writing for anyone but me this morning. No audience, no blog followers or Facebook friends. I haven’t written in a while mostly because I don’t know what to say. There is nothing new to report. Nothing I haven’t already discussed in some form or another.

Life seems to be circling around an emotional drain. I am running in circles, hitting walls when they pop up in front of me. Falling down. Finding myself at the bottom of that damn hole in the sidewalk. Nothing makes any sense and then suddenly, everything is clear. I am angry as hell one moment, and then sobbing with hurt and sadness the next. Happy as can be and excited for a future with new possibilities, and then crying on the floor in the fetal position.

Repeat. Recycle. Redo.

I am exhausted.

The abandonment and rejection have taken the forefront for the time being. I was the one that told him to move out. I was the one who filed for divorce. I was the one that said with certainty, I AM DONE. So why is my brain playing tricks on me? Why is there a longing that will not quit? This man did unspeakably horrible things to me and I know this yet, I still want him back sometimes. But that person, the person who kicked me when I was down is not the same person I was married to for 11 years.

That person is dead.

Is this how it goes? The grieving process? Many people have said that divorce is more difficult than death. Having been through both, I am not sure what I believe. They both suck. There are parallels certainly, similarities I guess. Loss of a relationship, loss of an intact family, a life together, a future filled with hopes and dreams. All of it. For me, losing my dad at 9 years old is so tied up with the fact that my husband has left me for a new life and a new love, that I am left reeling and raging all over again. I am completely tangled up. My 9-year-old self is hurting and she is PISSED.

I guess though, all I have is right now, and yes, divorce does indeed suck. It feels easier to know that when someone dies they (usually) don’t intend to leave. With divorce, someone decides that they are done. Yes, sometimes divorce is amicable. And to be honest, I am not sure this one isn’t. My fear of abandonment coupled with the codependency makes it nearly impossible for me to sort through my emotions at times. My husband told me just the other day that he has left me for the ‘new him’ and that he has ‘never been happier’ in his life. That hurt me to my core.

I know we weren’t perfect. I know there was a restless boredom that was there in our marriage, a shadow of something unsettled and nagging. I don’t know if we would have made it one more year; one more decade. I have NO IDEA. I guess I just feel like we deserved more of a chance than we got. Those two people who met in their twenties and got completely lost and simultaneously tangled up in each other, don’t they deserve another chance? A shot at seeing what is there, beneath the hurt, beyond the codependency and the pain of trauma. I know that I deserved more of a chance than he was willing to give me. This family, these children, this relationship. None of it seems to count. 16 years of my life down the drain. Lost for good. What the hell happened?

He is happier than he ever has been and I am left reeling.


  1. AgainstAllOdds

    Dearest Amy, I know this struggle well. I was also the one who did the leaving in my marriage and was codependent as well. I was so confused for a long time why it felt so much like my ex left me when I was the one who physically walked out the door. It was because he had already left me (emotionally, mentally); I wonder if for you it was the same reason? When I left in physical form, I had panic attacks every morning for a month at least. I stripped away the last thing he was there for : my need and the presence of his body. His mind had left long ago. When I realized that, I also realized I had been “keeping together” a shell of a relationship that was no longer. I was in fact grieving something that either never existed or hadn’t been for a very long time. Still to this day, years later, I grieve. Sometimes for the loss of someone who would give me a sense of security I now know is an illusion. Sometimes for the person who was honestly my friend – though he hurt me more than I ever thought possible and I am still learning of the ways. The good news is it gets better, though I know it feels like it never will. You closed the door and soon many other doors will open for you. I will be thinking about you as they do.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s