Life after love

I never imagined I'd be here--single again, after nearly five years with him. Nothing about THIS is what I dreamed of for my girl and me. I am so consumed with guilt, knowing how much this fucked up life is my creation. My selfish desire to be whole prompted this disaster.

People keep asking me if I'm having doubts. I should have never let it drag on for this long, allowing him to become so imbedded in our lives--regret, but not doubt. I look around my house, and there he is. In the albums, in the art on the walls, in the furniture, in the bed. He's everywhere. I wish I could erase him, but almost five years is a very long time, when she is only six. He has been in our skin since nearly the beginning of "us."

It would be easier if he were the villain in the story. I could tell you how horrible he was to and for us, and you would nod in sympathy. That's just not true, though. He loved [loves] us so sweetly. We were his world. He never fails to remind me that we were all he had. Twisting the knife.

I just couldn't do it any longer. I could no longer pretend it was working. I could no longer pretend I loved him. I was so tired. Tired of faking it, tired of trying, tired of forcing. Love shouldn't be an incessant struggled to...love. That can't be right.

Sometimes, "He loves me, and he's always kind" isn't enough to sustain a relationship. I wanted the dreams he represented--a family, a home, European vacations, stability, love, togetherness, completeness. The dreams and the everyday were so far apart, though.

I am so sure, and so unsettled. And so alone.

So I bought myself diamond earrings. They are tiny, and they were only $80 on clearance. They felt like something I could DO. Tell myself I'm worthy. Nobody ever thought I was worthy of
a precious stone. So I bought them for myself.

But I knew I'd never be convinced that I deserved them. A sad reminder that I may never be loved the way I need to be loved.