The worst thing about divorce

It’s my boys I worry about.

I’ve never been divorced before.  Neither has my wife.  But we’ve both been though painful breakups before and come out okay.  We’ll both be okay this time, too.

My boys grow up in an intact home.  Now that’s not going to happen for them.

I worry how their parents’ divorce will affect their ability to have good marriages of their own.

I worry about not being around to protect them.  They’re not big enough to defend themselves against an adult.

I worry that if I’m not with them every day if will hurt our relationship.  Will we be as close as we are now?  Will we drift apart?

I worry about so many things.

Worrying won’t solve anything.  All I can do at this point is the best I can.

I just wish it was better.

Boom!

Last Thursday I blew up at my wife.

She was filing for divorce online and asking me questions.

I got irritated and eventually exploded.  I said a lot of hurtful things that I regret.

At one point I thought about killing myself.  I hadn’t thought about that for a long time.

Eventually I calmed down and apologized.

Later I realized I wasn’t as okay with the divorce as I had thought.

Part of me was still hoping she’d change her mind.

Divorce

My wife told me at the end of June that she wanted to separate.

This wasn’t the first time she’d said that.  This time was different, though.  This time she wouldn’t be talked out of it.

She felt like she couldn’t trust me anymore.

I’d lied to her about watching porn.  That was worse than the fact that I’d been watching porn.

Six months earlier I’d decided to come clean to her.  We’d been going through marriage counseling, and I started feeling a lot closer to her.

I knew my lies were getting in the way of us getting closer.

One night she confessed something to me.  So I confessed to her that I’d been lying.

At first she seemed ok.  By the time I came home from work the next day I could tell she wasn’t ok.

She went into a deep depression for several months.  I was worried, but I didn’t know what I could do.  Most of the things I tried to do were mistakes.

We went through cycles.  She’d let me know she wasn’t happy with me.  I’d work hard at being the best husband ever.  After a while I’d slack off.  I couldn’t stick with it.  She’d get upset again.

She was gentle when she told me.  More gentle than I expected.  I cried.  She comforted me.

I told her I was really going to change this time.  I meant it when I said it.

Eventually I got used to the idea.  She was going to divorce me no matter what I did.

I decided once we were divorced I’d change.  I’d become the best version of myself, and hope she’d like the new me.  Then maybe she’d want me back.

Later it sunk in that she was probably never going to take me back.

Now I’ve accepted it.  I’m ready to move on with my life.

I think…

“I had a feeling I should come talk to you”

It was Sunday night.  I’d just moved into my dorm.  Classes hadn’t started yet.

I graduated from high school a few months before that.

I didn’t have any friends there.  I was alone.

I went for a walk that evening.  As I was walking I noticed a girl wandering around.  I kept my distance.

Then she came up to me.  She had a feeling she should come talk to me.

We walked and talked for a while, getting to know each other.

We went back to her dorm.  She introduced me to her roommates, who I became friends with.

I started spending more time with her.  I started having feelings for her.

We went to school dances together.  I’d never danced with a girl who wanted to dance with me before.

Later we were alone in her living room.  I was sitting in a chair.  She was sitting on my lap.  We were talking and our lips brushed against each other.

Most guys would have kissed her.  I’m not most guys.  I’d never kissed a girl.  Well, not since first grade, anyway…

I burst out laughing.

Things slowly went downhill after that.

I didn’t see her at all during Christmas break.

I wrote her a long, rambling letter.  In the letter I said I loved her.  I slipped it in her bag before she went home for a long weekend in January.

She wrote me a short note.  She said she was sorry, but she didn’t feel the same way.

I was devastated.

I’m fat

400

That’s what the scale said the last time I was at the doctor’s office.

I haven’t always been fat. I was chubby as a kid, but nothing like this.

When I graduated from high school I was 6’0″ and 180 lbs.

When I went to college I started walking a lot. One time I walked with a friend to the next town, which was six miles away, and halfway back (we got a ride from some kind strangers).

When I was dating my first serious girlfriend I started drinking Mountain Dew. That’s also when I got my first car. Then she left me for someone else and I got depressed. I lived alone and didn’t have any friends. That’s when I started putting on weight.

I’m not sure if I lost weight the first time I moved back in with my mom. I know I did the second time. I went from almost 300 lbs down to about 220 lbs. Then I started gaining again.

I was 275 by the time I moved back out again, and 350 by the time I met my wife. At one point I weighed 422 or more, now it’s down to 400.

I’ve tried a few things to lose weight. I’ve tried eating salads every day. I’ve tried quitting soda and just drinking water. I’ve tried going for walks. But I’m not consistent. I have trouble sticking with the changes I make. I give up too easily.

First big crush

When I was in the first grade I had the biggest crush on a little girl in my class. I think she had a crush on me, too.

The next summer we both took swimming lessons from the same lady. Then I didn’t see her at swimming lessons any more.

She was supposed to be in my class again the next year. Her best friend was in the class, too. On the first day of school the teacher called roll. When she got to my crush’s name, her friend announced that she had moved to California. My little heart broke.

Later that year my crush came back. Just to visit. I was too nervous to talk to her.

I became convinced that my crush would move back, and I decided to wait for her. I was sure I would marry her.

Just before Christmas when I was in the fifth grade she visited again. The next May another girl gave me a note from my crush. The note said that she was in love with me. It said to meet her behind the school after school. I thought the girl had waited five months to give me the note, and I was so mad at her. I hung on to that note for a long time. I wish I still had it.

My crush came to visit again in seventh grade. I never talked to her on any of her visits, I was too scared. I had put her up on a giant pedestal.

In ninth grade a girl in my Spanish class asked me if I wanted to go out with her. I don’t remember what happened after that. But I do know that after seven long years I stopped waiting for my crush.

When I was in eleventh grade a girl in my math class announced (to the whole class in general) that my old crush had moved back. I had been right after all. But I was afraid of girls in general, and I had lost interest in my old crush.

Later I realized that she probably visited other times I wasn’t aware of, and that maybe that girl who gave me the note hadn’t waited five months. Maybe my crush waited behind the school for me that May day, and I never showed up.

I’m sorry.