Pondering the Divorce Decree

I'm remembering what it was like five years ago and ten years ago. Before.

Before my world blew apart. Before the shattered shards of the perfect picture of my life lay around me so that any step I took left me bleeding.

In the Before, there were times my husband and I would argue, usually about him yelling at the kids about something like candy wrappers left on a coffee table. I didn't like the kids hearing these arguments. I would say something like, "See, your parents can argue and disagree. But one thing you NEVER have to worry about is divorce. Your father and I are married for life."

When we heard about our friends divorcing, I would say to my husband, "I don't know how couples DO that. I mean, your kids are each half of that other person. Their faces and mannerisms would always remind you of your spouse. I can't imagine what it would take to make a person want to end a marriage."

I'm remembering what it was like four years ago, as I struggled with the realization that my husband was a very sick man–a brilliant deceiver leading a double life–and it didn't appear he was going to get the treatment necessary to get any better. I felt rejected and betrayed. I was afraid of living alone and sleeping alone, afraid of raising the kids and maintaining a house without my husband to share the daily burdens and joys. I didn't want to divorce, but I gradually realized that a marriage based on deceit wasn't something I could stomach.

I never imagined that this man who betrayed me for so long with his sexual addiction would heap insults upon injury in divorce. I truly believed he was a good person deep down inside. I believed in negotiation and compromise. I was certain that if I was willing to forgive (and I was), then he would reciprocate by treating me well in divorce. I was certain–absolutely certain–that he would want to put the interests of the children first.

I was so wrong.

Before I filed for divorce, a friend told me that I could expect to feel quite sad when I finally signed divorce papers. I think her divorce process was not as prolonged and traumatic as mine. I will be nothing but thrilled to get this monkey off my back. It has now been over thirty years since I began a relationship with this man. Three years since I filed for divorce. I want my life back. I won't get it entirely: I will still have two special needs sons under my care. But at least I will no longer be married to this person.

Today I am anxiously awaiting word that my divorce is final. I am exhausted by the battle to ensure that my children and I will be cared for financially by the father/husband who deceived us for so long. I will be ready to celebrate the END of this nightmare. Okay, okay. Realistically, the nightmare will go on because of the children we share. And I can't remarry or co-habitate because to do so would cause me to lose the military benefits and alimony to which I am entitled. (He won't lose his benefits if he remarries. Where is the fairness in that?)

Still, I will celebrate. It makes me feel bad that I won't be sad. Isn't that strange?