I have tried to write this post a few times over the past few weeks. But I have struggled to organise my thoughts. Struggled to find the words.
It’s been a struggle.
I’m still struggling.
My ability to bounce back has yet to make a reappearance.
The more weeks pass by, the more worried I become. The anxiety increases.
I’m trapped in a vicious circle.
I’ve been trapped for all my adult life.
Trapped in a marriage that I made my normal. Yet, in reality was abusive, harmful and restricted my ability to flourish as an autonomous human being with authentic agency.
This, here, is the problem.
For all of my adulthood I defined myself by my role as wife. I wore the mask. I did it exceptionally well. Too well. I became the mask.
Even post-bomb, I have continued to define myself by this role, although now rather than wife I’m broken-heart dumpee.
But it has to end.
Like really end.
We’ve finally exchanged offers.
I’ve sacrificed future financial stability: decided not to pursue spousal maintenance. A decision that’s causing me concern.
Since very early on in our marriage, I’ve never had to worry about money – Ex, for all his emotional shortcomings, was always a great provider financially.
For the first time – ever – I am fraught, worrying about how I will provide for the children, pay the mortgage and the bills.
But it is necessary. I need a clean break. I have to be free. Properly.
Ex is so controlling. Constantly changes his mind, withholds payments, uses money as a stick to beat me with. I can’t live like that anymore.
Ex, in fairness to him, has made some huge concessions. Agreed to some aspects which he’s previously resolutely rejected.
There’s just a few sticking points. Fingers crossed, he will agree.
I’m still waiting to hear confirmation. On tenter hooks, constantly checking my email and messages or waiting for a call.
If he does accept, we will avoid having to continue with the court process.
If he accepts, it could be all over in a matter of weeks.
No longer his wife.
God, the thing I have been craving for nearly two years could actually happen.
I am so confused. The prospect is generating so many conflicting emotions.
I desperately want this to be over. But the prospect is stirring up all sorts.
I have to let go.
Like really let go.
I have to stop.
Stop being the wife.
Stop being the dumpee.
Start being me.