When I think of the decisions I made in my marriage, I get angry with myself

I loved my marriage but any idiot would say that the writing was on the wall as far as my wife's respect for me, and others.

 

I knew this in 2012 when I allowed her back in the house after she deserted me to sleep with some person in Arizona and then didn't come back when my dad got sick and died.

 

She showed her true trashy side then, but I kept reaching out to her trying to keep the connection alive.  I succeeded, which was the single worst error I've ever made.  Nothing else comes close.

 

Except: I did the same thing again at the end of 2022! I survived another in a long string of arrogant ghosting and criticism moments—very obvious she didn't give a shit about whether I was alive or dead.  But me?  I kept reaching out, full of anger and shock and indignation.  Mina didn't change a thing…she just kept attacking me with anyone who would listen, and abandoning those friends who tried to keep in touch with me.

 

Eventually, she crawled back.  I was terrified of her and would not be in the same space unless I had a witness. 

 

It didn't go well.  Particularly for me.  This meant she dumped me for the third time…2012, 2022, and 2023.  (I don't count the fact that she used the word "divorce" in every argument we had from 2008 on.  My ex is careless with language and is not blessed with curiosity about others.

 

Now I'm finally in the grieving phase---three years later, delayed by a world class run-in with PTSD, which I've somewhat managed thanks to hundreds of treatments—and depression, which I fear will be with me until I die.

 

Grieving is honoring, and I honor all the things I loved about my marriage.

 

But I hate myself because I allowed a violent selfish sociopath back into my life, not one, not twice, but three times.

 

So here are some things I never heard in my 28 years with this evildoer:

 

• "thank you…now I understand your point of view."
• "I'm sorry.  I never meant to hurt you."
• "thank you for the support…"
• "you make me happy."

 

That's just a start.  Here's a short list of things I DID hear, most of them hundreds of times:

 

• You're an aggressive drunk.
• You're a coke addict.
• You're a crossdresser.
• You masturbate too much.
• I will never help you.  You need to save yourself.
• So let's just get divorced then if you disagree.
• Caroline says I'm a really good lesbian!
• That didn't happen, and if it did, it didn't matter because I don't care about it."

 

Why the fuck did someone who says shit like this come back?  I assume it was only because she saw I wouldn't fight to protect myself and no one else would share a bank account with her. She's given me no evidence of any other reason, and it's important for her now to know she never will.  I was your life partner and best friend for 28 years.

 

I'll never know about her, but I know a ton about myself, and I'm learning so much every day.  Understanding #1: No wonder I'm depressed and hate myself and despise myself for letting this detestable shibboleth to arrogance anywhere near the most valuable thing in the universe:  myself.  I am love.  I am gratitude.  I am more capable than nearly any one I know, and a hundred times more capable than what's her name. 

 

I am me.  Broken.  Depressed.  Old.  Lonely.  But there is deep richness in my soul, and I think I can dig it out some day.  It's deep under the rubble of the worst mistake(s) I've ever made. But I can hear my heartbeat, and sense my breath, and I know I'm still alive.

 

What have you succeeded at, honey?  Except permanently damaging those who love you and spitting on their carcasses (I'm borrowing this excessive language from other ex-friends of yours—not my quote). 

 

You are the Queen of that, for certain.  I'm David Foster, the king of self-hate.  For now.