Backwards and forwards. I read all of these brutally honest, heart-rending, gutting entries about my horrible, horrible marriage. Like this one. There were so many. They started so much sooner than I remember them starting. They went on for so long. So much longer than I remembered. There are so many things I never told. I was so broken for so long. So thoroughly broken. For so many years.
So many years.
I left him. I did, finally. This isn't news, as such. It was almost a year and a half ago, and over three and a half years after we separated. It took so long. I don't know why it took so long.
It took too goddamned long.
But I did it. It was hard, but not for long. It was scary, but not for long. I was sad, but not for long. None of these feelings/states lasted anywhere near as long as I thought they would. God, was I ever done. The turmoil, the heart-part, was over pretty quickly. Anger and revulsion, then, and sometimes still. Then it was impatience and frustration at required interactions, at the mechanics of extrication, at the molasses-pace. Chafing at the necessities, desperate to be done.
Now, though? Joy. Bounding joy. Soaring, uncontained, irrepressible glee.
Is it cruel to say so? Be that as it may. It was terrible and now it is over and I am ecstatic. Exultant.
My divorce is final in two months and three days.
In all my life, I have never, ever, ever been happier.