A Page is Turned

"He put it on me, I put it on, like there was nothing wrong. It didn't fit, it wasn't right."
- Katy Perry "Not Like the Movies"

Wow. Two years since I've last blogged? What happened to me? A man. A marriage and now a divorce.
Amazing how when you're younger you have such firm morals and ideas of what you absolutely will never do, then one day you remember that and realize you've broken almost every one. Divorce was always on that list for me.
I could list the hundreds of things that went wrong, but in the end the truth is this. I looked at him and realized that I didn't love him anymore. I didn't even love myself anymore the way I was with him. When I realized that I could do something about it then I almost became drunk with this sudden release of stress and rush of freedom.
So now, here I am at 28 starting over. I know in the big picture that 28 is still young enough, but hell I was considering parenthood pretty seriously a few months ago so to consider how long it will take to get back to that point with someone it floors me a little.
Divorce isn't pretty. It's downright awful. I am literally walking away from something I invested almost seven years of my life to with not much more than the clothes on my back. I am walking away from my beautiful home I loved and invested so much heart into, pets that have become like children and a family that I love every bit as much as my own blood family. And that's just the collateral damage.
Divorcing the man actually isn't as much sad as just a relief to me. He's spent so much time in a dark hole clawing all the light from me that it took me a while to realize that there was none left for me. He is afraid of being alone. Rather than calmly accept the truth he alternates between calling me every horrible thing he can think of to try to break me down into believing he is the only one who will ever love me and then apologizing for his appalling behavior and promising change. Key word here: alternates. No matter how sincere the promise, he cannot help himself from falling back into his old patterns. So what could be an amicable parting of ways is now becoming me trying to endure my final days as he hurls everything in his arsenal at me in a last ditch effort.
But it's too late. I've remembered the bright, fun, happy girl I used to be. I remembered what it's like to be able to lose time in conversation with someone without having to justify my time. I've remembered the beauty in long evening drives with no destination without having to give an exact time I will return. These are the pure and beautiful things that I am excited to get back to that help me endure the barbs each day. These things are too pure to be ashamed of and nothing I should ever feel guilt for doing. How did that girl ever let a boy have that much control over her?

No more.

It's my time now.