Coming to terms with the end

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I struggle to accept some truthes—and I have no way to verify the facts of my disastrous and painful marriage. 

 

So these are some truthes I can't prove or disprove—but if I don't accept them I believe I will be stuck in the trap of false hope until I die.

 

  1. I loved my wife far more than she loved me.
  2. My wife was so unhappy in our marriage that she invested a great deal of time complaining about me to others from the very beginning.
  3. My wife needed an escape from her previous life, and I was acceptable.  Nothing more. I was tolerable enough some of the time that she accepted her fate, but as soon as she was frustrated, she didn't bother to be polite or kind.  I wasn't that important.
  4. My wife never shared anything about her true sexuality, even though I wasn't close to what she wanted.  I assume when she said "sex was nice," that's one case where she was somewhat honest.  It was nice.  Nothing of value.  But nice.
  5. I don't know anything about who she was, and never will.  My skills at observing were not that good, they were clouded by my desire to believe I was pleasing her and making myself happy, and she did not want to be known.

 

IF these are true, I've pretty much been a drag on my ex-wife's fortune.  She must believe that she would have succeeded in life if I wasn't an angry load to carry around.

 

And if this true, all of her rudenesses were honest.  She just didn't care.

 

I look like an idiot in this confession.  I still expect acknowledgement of what a good boy I was.  From her point of view, I was pretty much a disaster.  She will never contact me to tell me otherwise.  There is no apology because, as I know, she is certain I deserve to be hurt, but doesn't even think about it except for my bothersome texts or emails that sometimes slip through her protective net.

 

I still love her.  I'll confess that.  Now I acknowledge that I will not be happy or free until I say goodbye for ever.  I have attached myself to someone who stopped caring as much as 25 years ago.  Please David, for your own survival, I beg you to move on.  To let go of your best friend who was never even a friend.  Your partner who never had a partner.  Your wife who disdained you.  Your companion who was elsewhere whenever I was in the room. 

 

Please stop robbing yourself any more.  Please?  I need you to stop.  Can you hear me, David?

 

This is the hardest sentence I will ever write in my life.  Goodbye, Mina. 

 

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