Upon reflection

As the day aproaches, I find myself thinking more and more. I find myself raging more and more. I find myself hurting more and more.

Two years ago, when Jock left, I wrote a post on my now closed blog called “No Autopsy Required”. Our marriage had ended and I saw no point in hashing and rehashing the whys and hows.

Yet I have spent the last 2 years doing just that. Picking it all apart. Picking at the sore that continues to bleed within.

Why can other people make it work and I couldn’t?

I share the statistics. The percentage of couples who separate after certain incidents in their lives is high.

Couples who struggle with fertility have a high chance of separating. (I have PCOS and was given a 5% chance of ever falling pregnant, however, 6 pregnancies, only one with fertility drugs which miscarried, 2 miscarriages, 1 neo matal death and four surviving children, I am pretty bloody lucky)

Couples who lose a child have a high chance of separating. (Our precious warrior boy, Finbar, who fought so hard to stay, but in the end needed to leave, died when he was 11 days old)

Couples who have children with special needs have a high chance of separating. (We have two who had developmental delays, One with Autism, the other with Autism and ADD)

Couples who are in a relationship where one is Asperger’s and the other Neuro Typical and it is not acknowledged or addressed, have a high chance of separating. (Jock is a High Functioning Asperger’s who just wanted to be left to be who he is. He saw any issues in our relationship as being ‘my’ problem. It was akin to being in an emotionally abusive and emotionally negligant marriage)

I wish I could say that I have taken the high road through all of this. But I haven’t. I have SCREAMED at him down the phone until my throat is raw. I have rung him, only to end up calling him every name under the sun, hung up, called back and repeated the process. I call any girlfriend he has ‘whore’ or the ‘whore you are f*cking.’

I guess the saying “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” is true.

Yet after all the yelling, over analysing, hating, screaming, cursing, tears, and drunken nights, I am left with one thing.

Sadness.

I am sad that it has come to this.

I am sad that the man I thought was my best friend turned out to be my worst enemy.

I am sad that I wasn’t important enough to him that he would look at his behaviour and how damaging it was to me. And make the effort to change it.

Everything I did, and while it wasn’t always done to a positive end, was for us, and our family. The choices I made was for us and our family. I fought until there was no fight left in me, and then I fought some more. It literally almost killed me.

It wasn’t all bad, but how the hell did it come to this?

 

 

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