4 years ago

I haven’t had a chance to write — trying to get through a divorce.


Not a word I anticipated uttering, but I guess no one does.  15 years.  Flushed into the toilet, buy someone who has no idea what loving me was or is.  He thinks he did…but he didn’t.  He used me, lied to me and will answer, someday, for all that.  If he ever even cares.

And while it’s in the toilet, per se, I have my boys.  That means it wasn’t all in the toilet.  Nope….I had this marriage to create my amazing Ginger boys.  They are my love.  They are my focus.  They are my life.  No changes there with the “impending DIVORCE”.  Just more focused.

Some know the entire story — this isn’t the platform, yet, for the whole story.
A)  It’s too much
B)  It’s a book length novel of bs
C)  It’s here for my boys one day.  So….that will live somewhere else in time.

And while it is SOME BIG FAT JACKASSERY, the story isn’t finished……the full story.

I’ve had a few people, that know just “they are getting divorced”, ask “Michelle….it has to be fixable.”

Nope…this one is a deal breaker.  And NOT by me, FYI.  When someone makes a non-fixable choice, you have nowhere to go but to Divorce Town.  Never doubting my filing a bit.  Not one tiny little second.  Divorce is where it must go.

Fixable is what I thought my marriage was…for the last 3-4 years.  Asking for therapy.  Begging to get help.  Fixable.  That, I thought, would be fixable.  But?  You need the other 50% to be capable of fixable.  Him?  Nope…didn’t want fixable.  So, you know what?  I had decided “well, this is what it is…my boys……I’m here in crap town”.  You don’t get to leave because your marriage is crappy, at least for me.  I was in for the haul.  10-12 years more.  My boys…all for my boys.

I sucked it up….I let it go….I moved myself further away.  Thinking it was how it was…not thinking he’s doing this too…because of other reasons.

No, guarantee you…there shall not be a following blog, down the road “awww, it WAS fixable”.  Nope.  A deal breaker is a deal breaker.  I don’t mess around on that, FYI.  When I call the ball, it’s not a re-do.

And, with all I was told and searched and found in this process, I know that I had no idea who this person even is.  The man I married…and loved?  Doesn’t exist.  THAT’S a kick in the guts of this mom.  KICK.  And it causes me angst to protect my babies.  Fiercely.

So…..fixable isn’t a word that will be applied.

Only word I want?  DONE.

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