The purpose of my writing, AKA, my mission statement

About two years ago, my world crumbled when I discovered my marriage was not what I thought. It just so happens that at this time, I was 8 months pregnant with our third child and not exactly in the state of mind to make any type of life changing decisions.

For two years I worked my ass off to save my marriage. I had to know that I could look my children in the eye someday and tell them that I had tried EVERYTHING to keep our family together. Finally, this past summer, it became crystal clear that things were not working, and something had to change. We separated just after our 11th anniversary.

For the sake of those involved, especially my children, I will remain anonymous and try to steer clear of details when I can. This blog is to help me with my own perspective on what is happening to me, what has happened over the past 11 years with my husband, and also to offer a possible guidance to someone in the future who may be going through this same situation.

At this moment the "D" word has not yet been mentioned, however, I can't imagine a scenario that would warrant me allowing my husband back into our home at this point. I am slowly and painfully discovering that you cannot force someone to change, for yourself, or even for your children. It is beyond devastating to realize that someone has that much control over my own future. I wish I could make him see...but I am starting to realize that he may never, or at least, not in a timeframe that works for me.

I go to counseling weekly with a therapist who has helped me immensely. I think back to the person I was 2 years ago when this all began, and although I don't always feel it, I can't believe how strong I have become. I was so weak and scared, and thanks to therapy feel as though I might actually get through this. Someday.

Although we separated this past summer, it's important to know that the separation did not feel real to me until very recently. My husband and I were so co-dependent that our separation at first just felt like he was sleeping somewhere else. We still spent weekends together and he came and went freely from our home, even though he was technically living elsewhere. We had to tear our grips from each other slowly. Only this past month did he actually get his own place, and that sent me into the first stage of grief. And GRIEF is where I am at right now. Ugly, disgusting, rip your heart out grief.

Eventually, when I am feeling a little better, I want to focus this blog on finding myself again. I feel as though I am at the beginning of THAT movie, you know, every chick flick where Girl Loves Boy, Boy Dumps Girl unexpectedly, Girl drinks herself into oblivion before she has that "A HA" moment--she skydives even though she's afraid of heights, or she cuts her hair or gets a tatoo or discovers that she should design handbags or something, cue happy ending. No, I'm not drinking myself into oblivion, but last weekend I slept until 4pm two days in a row. Most days I find it painful to get myself out of bed. My emotions are on a rollercoaster ride from hell. But the good news? I can at least see that there WILL be a happy ending. At least right now at this moment I do. Ask me again tomorrow and who the hell knows.