Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum

Wishing

2 Comments

Following on, briefly, from the previous post, I recall desperately wishing so many things in the aftermath of his betrayal. One of the things that stands out was wishing he had left me. I still think of that often. If he had taken my choices away, I think it would have been easier. I wanted him to live with her, and get really miserable. Feel rotten after a brief honeymoon period. He admits that was his vision, too, and probably one of the main reasons he didn’t leave. We both saw that she was a piece of shit, a taker. I wanted to be able to breezily drop the kids off, or meet for coffee and discuss something, me, with my (then) brand new, skinny body, and new outlook, I knew I would recover, and thrive. But staying, and trying to recapture what we once had has been exhausting, and a grueling task, an endurance feat the likes of which I have never experienced. I wanted him to leave me, and be bloody miserable. But mostly I wanted to show him how I could thrive without his lying, cheating ass.

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2 thoughts on “Wishing

  1. I always said if he left there was no way back. And I meant it and I believe it’s true. And at the time I wasn’t ready to cut him off. For all kinds of reasons, some about me, some about the kids. I was always scared he would leave but I think I did a reasonable job of hiding that, including actually making him leave at one point. If anything I wanted to show him how much he had damaged me and to stop buying her propaganda of “oh Nephila will be fine”.

  2. I wouldn’t have taken him back if he left me either, Nephila. I kicked him out several times, but if HE left, that was that for me. Seems weird, but there is a difference. And I feel sure if he had rejected me outright I would be more healed today than I am, struggling along here trying to salvage the lesser amount of love I have for him than I did before. It pisses me off because I still LIKE him a whole heap. We click on every other level. Love is less though. Sick of not being able to allow myself the needed vulnerability to love completely again.

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