I wrote that “Letter to the woman who stole my husband’s affections” yesterday, and I even sent it to my husband. I told him that if he did read it, I didn’t want to talk about it with him, and he didn’t respond.
I got up and swam today, the weather is glorious out. I thought if I could make it through the long wet winter I would survive this break up — now I am filled with doubt. I can’t make it at all.
I am utterly alone. I don’t have a single friend. I have my mother, father, and my daughter is two hours away. Those are all the people in the world with whom I interact. I go everywhere alone. I do everything alone.
All I can think of is wanting to be with him. Wanting to drive somewhere with him. Wanting to go out with him. Wanting to make love with him. Wanting to touch him. Wanting to feel him touch me.
Even if he changed his mind, which by now I’m certain he won’t, I could not go back with him. To know that he is capable of hurting me this badly. Forsaking me. Abandoning me. Discarding me. And while he was with me he found someone he cared more for.
I lost everything I had because of that man. Every penny. My house. My money. My credit. All because I believed in him and in his dreams. And because he felt I didn’t handle my anxiety in a reasonable way, he left me.
I truly cannot go on. But there’s not really anything I can do about that. I do not have any meds to overdose on. I’m not going to drive my car off a cliff. But I have lost all hope for my future.
I must be severely flawed to have chosen him. No one will ever want me. I can’t come into a relationship with friends, with a home, with a life. I’m bankrupt.
I’m 56. The few times I’ve looked at single ads for older men they ALL want younger women. Guess what? I’d prefer a younger man myself. Fuck them. I don’t want a man with erectile disfunction. My husband is 8 years younger than me, and that suited me. I’ll never find a younger man again.
I never thought I’d end up alone at this stage in my life, and it’s absolutely more than I can handle.
I imagine the day just a few months away when we are divorced and I can no longer call him my husband. I don’t want that day to come. I am so ashamed.
I’m sorry. I know no one is reading. But I’m sorry, anyway, for being so down.
I can seem to get out of it for the last several weeks.
I’m going to take an ativan and lie down, even though it’s only 2 in the afternoon.