I saw him, and the house, the dog, and the garden we planted. I saw the rooms I decorated, the wedding gifts, and the bouquet I walked down the aisle with. I sat on our couch, in our living room. I went into our bedroom and touched the comforter… I ran my hands across my dusty nightstand that hadn’t been touched in months.
A little background information, I called him. I needed to talk about Layla, our his dog. I needed to talk about money, the settlement, and how we would file taxes.
I wanted to see Layla, and I wanted to get some of my stuff I had left. In my mind I thought I would take heaps of things.
Once I got there I felt nothing. Not sad, or angry. Just at peace. At peace with the divorce, and with my life now. At peace with the bedroom I rent from a friend that is clean and decorated in white and blush pink, two things he would hate. My life that, though sometimes lonely, was very drama less and calm. I thought about him, working his families business, in the same house, same financial situation, same everything. And I thought about me. In a new place, with a new car, in school, paying for everything myself, really figuring my shit out.
He walked in the door and I felt nothing… not anxious, or angry. I didn’t have butterflies in my stomach and I surely didn’t feel in love with him anymore. I just felt adultish. Like I came into the house to gather my things and speak diplomatically on our divorce and finances and that’s exactly what I did…. Until…
Until I asked him “Why did you want a divorce?” and his response was “I don’t want to talk about it because we will just argue”.
“We won’t argue. There is nothing to argue about. I am just asking a question so I get an answer I have been waiting for. There’s nothing to fix or mend, I just want the facts. It’s not like we are getting back together…”
And his face, his body, his incredibly loud yet silent expression of pain like I had just kicked him in the gut.
“What was that face? Did you think we were going to get back together?”
“Well, I thought that maybe we could stay married…”
I didn’t flip as much as I think that other people would… Or even as much as I thought that I would. I just said that the way things happened, and not talking to me since July, is not exactly a way to act if you’re hoping you will stay married to someone.
He said he loved me. He was sorry I was hurt (he didn’t say he was sorry he hurt me, mind you).
And that was all I needed.
In that dirty house that once was clean and my joy, in front of my still husband, in the middle of a conversation I felt zero emotion in that was all I needed to know I was not in love anymore. I was not hurting anymore. I was not yearning for him to crawl back, instead I was sad he hadn’t moved on.
There are two ways to deal with situations, be a victim, or be victorious. I don’t have parents, or a family less than a mile away to help me out. I don’t have family that signs my pay checks, or a trade to offer in exchange for money. I don’t make as much as he does, I don’t have as many assets as he does- and that is why I couldn’t be a victim- I had no choice but to get over things and do what it took to be an adult and take care of shit.
His advantages like having family and friends, having the house full of reminders and extra money if he didn’t it were actually disadvantages.
The bags of clothes were still there the way I left them. The crock pot hasn’t moved. My nightstand looked the same… and yet my entire life is different. I went back to my ex-husband and it reaffirmed my divorce.
I am so grateful for this second chance.