I always thought I would be married forever.
I thought somehow I wouldn’t be a statistic, that person who got married young and discovered we had matured into different people and drifted apart, or that couple that blew up all the time and eventually fizzled out.
I thought we were soul-mates and nothing could tear us apart.
When my marriage fell apart this weekend and the fights ended and the doors slammed and the supportive and loving friends went home and I was left with my own thoughts, I thought I would break down.
Instead I continued the plans I started during the day. I planned activities for my daughters, I started working on a Windsor Social article that needed to be done and I had a good cry when I remembered my daughter asking me why her Daddy was never coming back. But I wasn’t sad.
All the professionals I talk to think I need to be sad, but I’m not. I’m angry, I’m bitter, I feel betrayed by my estranged husband and by myself because this is happening. But I’m not sad and I’m not lonely. I’m okay that I’m angry and I’m okay that I’m alone. In fact, I woke up the morning after and felt optimistic. I woke up yesterday and felt nothing at all and I woke up this morning and felt hopeful that today will be better than yesterday.
But I’m still not sad. Does this make me a freaky weirdo that I’m not a slobbering mess mourning the loss of my marriage? I asked my best friend the same question last night and he said maybe I just have a good head on my shoulders and I know to walk away from something that isn’t right for me or my daughters. Maybe I’m so calm because I knew when to do the right thing. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I’m a soulless robot and that’s why I’m not sad. Maybe I’m in denial or maybe I’m afraid to be sad? I’m not sure. Maybe my counseling sessions will help me shed some light on this but until then I’ll just continue on.
I just always thought I would be sad.