This Too Shall Pass, Or Will It?

I don’t know if I will live long enough to say that I’m grateful my husband cheated on me, dumped me, and destroyed my life because now I’m in a better place.

But I tried to leave him several times and eventually caved into him when he pursued me relentlessly or when I got weak. I went back to him last year knowing the moment I did it that it was a mistake. I accepted that he was my future and that I’d have to find a way to make it work, no matter how flawed and weird and awful — we were stuck together.

It wasn’t until HE broke it off due to his relationship with another woman that I was truly set free.

During that last hellish month when I suspected his heart had been stolen I kept asking him over and over again why he had wanted me back only to hate me and ignore me. He never gave me an answer, but I imagine it had everything to do with his ego.

So it’s possible that someday I will say I’m glad he cheated and mean it but not today.

It’s hard to have such conflicting emotions about a person. He was horribly abusive but also encouraged me and broadened my mind in many ways. He was horribly abusive but also very physically affectionate. He helped me go off of pharmaceutical drugs. He rubbed my back and cooked for me. He was generally optimistic and stimulating. He was very friendly yet outspoken about controversial subjects and sometimes he was outright racist.

I know by now that our relationship was toxic and would never be right. I’ve accepted that. I have great sadness, however, because I fear I’ll never find love again and that is devastating to me. I still resent that I wasted eight years and over $200,000 of my life savings to follow his dreams and he was careful to never actually ask me for any money; it simply vanished over the course of our relationship. And now, at 57, I can’t even get an interview.

I feel like quite a chump.

But I feel even stupider that somehow I still love him. It embarrasses me to write that and I just hope over time I can say I no longer love him, but I can’t imagine that day now.

Perhaps what I feel for him isn’t love. Perhaps I’m mistaken and not in touch with my real feelings. Perhaps I’m simply afraid to be alone.

I have a lot of love to give. I hope I can love someone and see them through the good and bad times. I love fidelity. This world is filled with people yet I may live alone the rest of my life. How is that even possible? How do we manage to be so alone on this crowded planet?

I can’t even imagine the next man I might love because right now he doesn’t exist. I want him to exist. I want him to make love to me. I want him for better and for worse. I want him until death us do part.

I woke up sobbing this morning. Haven’t done that in months and months. I was dreaming that my husband had transformed himself into something grotesque. I wished I hadn’t sought him out because now my memory of him would be forever changed. And I kept running away from him to try to get back to where I came from but I didn’t even know the address of where I was staying. Reminiscent of the fights we had in London. Yet I kept staring at him wondering where the man I knew had gone and yearning for him to return.

I suppose all this fresh pain is due to many factors. I saw him recently. I speak to him on the phone nearly every day due to the case. The case itself will soon be coming to a close. The case which held us together. No matter how much the money is he’ll soon be gone. His life will involve other women and even though he seems to have a fondness for me again, he is glad to be rid of me. You can see that on his face. Like he dodged a bullet which makes me feel freshly injured all over again. I am what men discard and run from.

It’s contact that has brought this pain. But soon enough the contact will end and I will face more pain as I enter into the next phase of my life. I can hate it and complain about it as much as I want to, but I can’t change it. I can’t make time go backwards.

Ironically, as bad as I feel for myself, I am very worried about him and all the demands on him. I keep having to remind myself that it’s not my job. He fired me from that job. But I really hate myself right now for feeling love for him. He gave up on us and he blames me for that. Another thing I cannot change.

I can see I’m going to have to remind myself in the coming days of all the unforgivable things he did to me. It’s true that he wants to be a kind man and can be a kind man but he treated me anything but kind. The horrible name calling. The rage. How he put me last over and over again. Making me wait in line to have a little of his time.

But I blame myself for allowing him into my life in the first place. If I hadn’t ruined my 18 year REAL marriage to a good man I would never have met him. It was my own addiction to the mythical world of the internet which allowed me to have an online persona which was confident, younger, prettier, thinner, and I began to prefer it over the real world.

My real world and my then husband were good yet I tried constantly to kill myself and night after night he began to be afraid when he came home to a dark house. Would I be dead this time? Oh my god I am so sorry I did that to him. The shame is overbearing. I can’t believe I made his life a nightmare. I simply can’t believe I did that to a good and decent man. I must not have felt deserving of such a good person.

He’s moved on and is very happy. I fear running into him and his wife in town as well, but at least I know he’d be kind and respectful and he’d know that it would be hard for me.



I have to stop.

I am going into deep depression.

The stress of this case and the unknown amount of money I will have to rebuild my life is overwhelming me. I am sobbing as I type and filled with shame.

Not sure what I can do to get through the next four or five days. And not sure how I’ll muster the strength to go forward no matter what the settlement amount will be.

I’m mortified that I am dependent on my parents and I fear I always will be. If that were the case I would definitely want to die.

This is the first time I’ve felt truly suicidal in many, many months. I so hoped those days were behind me.

I’ve just made so many mistakes. At what point do you just say, “Wait. I can’t go on. I can’t undo all this shit. I’m deserving of all the hell I”m going through. I brought it on myself. I can’t take it anymore. I want to forget.”

Sometimes I behave here as though I’m just an ordinary kind and decent woman but I’ve made so many mistakes I’ve lost count. My own antics have exhausted me and consumed me with shame.

I’ve accepted what I’ve done, but mostly accepted it covered in the gloves of my mental illness. But now I don’t know if I am or was mentally ill or just mind blowingly selfish. As selfish as my mother. Oh my god.


Why can’t I stop.


I guess this is why I feel deserving of a man who was unbelievably cruel to me — it’s all I’ve earned. I’m not good enough for anything else. But sadly I also see the good qualities in my husband and know that had I been different, the outcome would have been different.

I’ll move on somehow. I am already dreading the cold, dark winter to come. I’d rather be miserable with him than try to figure out how to cope without him, or without anyone.


You are morbid. Just stop.


I spoke to my sister on the phone last night for the first time in many months. She pulls away from us when she is overwhelmed with her own life. I listened to the hell that is her existence and knew that my life is a cake walk compared to hers. Everything is fucking relative. Everything is temporary. We come into the world alone. We die alone. I am in control of how I move forward.

I may not be able to love one special man but that doesn’t mean I can’t love. It doesn’t mean I can’t try to help my family.

For several months now I’ve lived in a fantasy world thinking I’d get more than $100,000 in the settlement. Now I realize I will probably get closer to $25,000 and that’s an amount I will have to be much more careful with. I know how easy it is to go through that amount of money — it’s VERY easy.

If I could have gotten hired that money could have been used to set me up in my own apartment, or perhaps even allowed me to buy my own place. But I can’t even get someone to interview me.

I can only assume it’s my age. I never had trouble getting the job I wanted before. I got almost all the jobs I ever applied for. And now, when I have more skills than ever and the stamina to match it, no one will see past my age.  It’s so demoralizing.

Yet it’s clear to me that they like me at the kids center. They seem grateful that I make myself available to them and that I take the job seriously. They seem to really appreciate me. I am nice to work with. I am nice to be around. The people who don’t give me a chance are cutting themselves short.

It’s Saturday and I’m going to have to go to the pool even though my body is really tired from swimming all week. Not sure how good of a workout I can accomplish, but there’s no choice for me. I must try to get rid of this negativism.

The false confidence I’ve had while believing I’d have more than enough money to rebuild my life is gone. The real me is back. I’m truly sorry for anyone reading this. The sad thing is that even I in this morbid state know that I could feel 100% different tomorrow or certainly by Thursday when the case is over. But for now it’s overwhelming and insurmountable. This is my mental illness. The not believing that this too shall pass. Even as I write it I don’t believe it. I am so sorry.





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