In some ways, I’ve written this all before. But in my effort to move forward, I think I still need to go back. There was a time, certainly, that I thought the end would be much further down the road, unreachable, unattainable. But alas, here I am. 32 years old, mother of 3, sagging breasts, and I still bite my fingernails.
I have this incredible nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I think it is making all the decisions right now. Like a beast who cannot be tamed, it decides what I eat (or rather don’t eat), whose calls I answer, how I swing my softball bat. When he’s hungry, my arms go limp and my mouth turns dry. I no longer feel my legs. This happens most often when someone tells me of another rumor they just heard, something about my husband. And when you’re married, “something about your husband,” means you just learned something about your life that you didn’t know existed. It feels funny, but isn’t.
I am also most of aware of this unwanted passenger the moment after I ask my husband a “questions” The questions I refer to here, are the type that you already have an answer for. Maybe its the answer you hope for, or the one you pray won’t come. But you already know it. And it begs to be asked.
Last night, he answered the way I knew he would and prayed he wouldn’t.
Such is life…such is divorce.