When The Answer Becomes Painfully Clear.

I spent some time with a very good friend of mine the other night that I so desperately needed. She went through a very similar situation as mine at the same time as I was enduring it -- we weren't as close before, but now we have this insane bond because we were each other's divorce buddies. She finalized hers and moved on, I reconciled. Neither of us judged the other for our choices, it was just the paths we chose.

What was to be a half-hour work out date became a six-hour long brutally honest talk about everything in our lives. And for the first time, I said a lot of things aloud that I've barely let myself think above a whisper.

While it was a great relief to be able to release those things out of my body where I've been hiding them, and better yet to someone who completely understands both me and my situation and only has my best interests at heart, it was also a bit of a burden shift. Now that I've admitted things aloud, and as much to myself as to her, they are suddenly more real, concrete, possible. And some very heavy realizations were discovered, over which I've been mulling since.

Especially the parts where we talked about the people we thought our husbands were and the realization of who they actually are.

I remain open to the option of my husband getting himself together and taking the massive steps to re-establish a connection with me. In my heart of hearts, I sincerely hope he accomplishes it and that we finally begin to have the kind of marriage I thought I was entering.

But the realist in me, the world-weary soul who is tired of suffering through the banality of going through the motions, knows better. I am painfully aware that my husband is not the man I thought I married, nor will he ever be. He does not possess the emotional tools or the drive to really be a part of a marriage, or at least our marriage. And through his lies both monumental and minute, he has destroyed any vestige of trust or accountability between us.

He is blissfully unaware of this fact, either by purposeful omission or by willful blindness, I'm not sure which. I've tried talking to him, but he shuts down emotionally, doesn't hear or internalize a word I say. As long as things look fine on the surface, then they're fine by him.

I, however, have reached a point where I have better hopes and dreams for myself. I crave to be in an open, honest, supportive, loving relationship with someone. I know my children deserve to see what a healthy marriage looks like, and will only benefit from seeing their mother happy. I don't want to be like my parents who waited 17 years to divorce, all of us knowing it was inevitable. I don't want to rush into it either -- I want to have a good foundation, both short-term and long-term plans, things in place to only help me succeed.

I've been alone in this relationship for so long, it's about time I had the freedom to go along with being independent.

So now I work to make that possible, and just love my children ferociously in the meantime.

And the thing that started this train of thought? A pin from Pinterest:

truth.
I deserve better. In my life, in a romantic partner, in everything. It's not going to be easy, but it will certainly be worth it.

Tabatha blogs at Tabulous & Turn Right At Lake Michigan & tweets.

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