Divorce.
Yup. You read correctly. After 27 years of apparently, one-sided wedded-bliss, my marriage is over. I should have seen it coming. He began pulling away many months before I actually sensed danger. He slept downstairs on the couch because at first, his back hurt too much to sleep in our bed, and then, his anxiety was far too bad for him to be able to sleep confined to our room. Yes, those should have been signs. Pretty obvious ones, right?
Well, not to me. It took an anonymous message from someone who wanted to let me know that my husband was having an affair with a woman the messenger didn't want to see ruin her new marriage. I guess she was hell-bent on ruining it, because soon after the anonymous messages and his swearing it was all untrue, he mentioned separation. I believe it was the next day he decided he wanted a divorce.
Things moved in fast motion after that. He wanted the marriage over as soon as inhumanly possible. We listed the house, and he refused to move out until the house sold. Once it did, he packed up all his crap, and some items that were ours at one time before the divorce agreement stated we had to choose which one of us got the couch in the living room and which snagged the one on the family room. (I ended up with the family room furniture.) Then, he moved in with the woman he was not having an affair with.
So, I have spent some time going through all the stages of grief these past months. (To be honest, I have been stuck in the pissed of stage the most.)
Well, it's time to put him in my rear-view mirror and start my new life.
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