Calling it Quits

Dear Life,

You win. You’ve been winning for years, but I thought I was a fighter. I thought I had Right on my side. Or Love. Or *something*. And it’s not that there wasn’t love, not by any means – it was there. Lots of it.

But you cheated. You fucking cheated.

You stacked the deck and sent onslaught after onslaught whilst I floundered, trying to keep my marriage from being sucked down into the abyss, yet slowly, irretrievably, it sank. And that love faltered and weakened because how could it not? We didn’t have a chance.

Or we woke up to a new chance every day, and flawed humans that we are, we chose to acknowledge our challenges, chose to be affected, chose to let the chemicals in our brains and the emotions in our hearts buffet us this way and that, and further and further apart until he told me that I wasn’t enough.

Which I already knew.

But still I tried. Even when it was me vs him vs you, and the teamwork just never seemed to happen – but this isn’t about blame. Because I am not blameless, and in the end I am just…


We are defeated.

Raising our tattered, white flags before one or both of us sends ourselves off the edge to just pleasepleasepleasemakeitstophurting. We can’t live like that. *I* can’t live like that.

In nearly five years we’ve had maybe *almost* six months where the challenges seemed just about manageable. We promised “for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health” but Life, we’ve had poorer, sickness, sickness, sickness, and SO MUCH WORSE! You just never came through on the other stuff, and Husby and I both agree, defiantly, that we would never, EVER have chosen to put ourselves (or each other) through this, had we but known.

Hindsight is 20/20, as they say.

And so to list your sins, because surely we didn’t deserve or earn these – they aren’t consequences of our choices and seem only redolent of the stink of a broken world:

  • Depression
  • Lost PhD
  • Near insolvency
  • Endocrine breakdown
  • Depression
  • First miscarriage
  • Threat of infertility and chronic illness
  • Second miscarriage
  • Infertility
  • Depression
  • Eating disorder/Anxiety
  • Lost job
  • Depression

There were a few crumbs of High, and mostly Low, and some times of Absolute Desperation. There were precious moments of together and long hours of resentment and undertones and hurt. There were attempts at therapy and our situation proving too unusual for professionals to offer adequate support. There were ways we didn’t try at all, and ways we both tried our utmost, and kept trying to the extent of our limits.

And finally, the April Fool which was the saddest joke ever: calling it quits.

Because there’s no marriage left – we’ve barely survived it as individuals, and retrospectively, our couplehood seemed doomed from the start. Or just before, when it could have been nipped in the bud, but we were young and naïve and hopeful and determined to make it work in spite of the odds. And oh, that hope had jagged edges…

Fie on us.

Now what is there left? Certainly not hope.

There’s companionship…ish, when Husby’s not depressed and I’m not withdrawn and prickly and kicked into survival-mode from the hangover of a childhood spent around that filthy, vicious, destructive condition.

There are good things about each of us, which remain valid…but they’re not enough to build a marriage on. And certainly not enough to re-build a marriage on.

But this has been a long time in the offing. We’ve both said it. We just haven’t wanted to acknowledge it. But Life, you’ve worn me down. And I’m too tired to fight any more. Husby and I both agree it makes sense, and to try to remain friends, and that you’ve won.

And just because I’m not crying, doesn’t mean I’m not desperately sad. And just because I’m desperately sad doesn’t mean I think I can try any more or any harder. Which makes me sadder, but I won’t show it because somehow I have to keep going, at least until the weekend…

You’ve won.

And my brain is crawling against the edges of my skull, screaming for some kind of release while I sit sullenly, unmoving, appearing apathetic.

You’ve won.

And I wish I was drunk.

You’ve won.

Fuck you.


Can YOU throw this stone

You may only sit in judgement or throw stones if you’re perfect. I owe you nothing – certainly not this explanation, or this jagged, agonising part of my life – yet writing it helps *me* and I need that. If I’m honest, I need you. Or certain of you (and you’re there…thank you, thank you so much), because life at the moment is awful, has been awful, and is going to continue to be awful.

Maybe it would be easier if we could settle to hate one another, and let the anger and vindictiveness carry us through, but we can’t and we won’t, and the whole situation is just terribly, terribly painful, and no, there’s not anything more that we can, or I’m willing to try. I am done.

And yes, perhaps the decision is on me, but the breakdown took two. And Life, that fucking miserable bastard, Life, which didn’t let us live.

238 thoughts on “Calling it Quits

  1. Pingback: The Things I Left Undone | Considerings

  2. This!!! I’m not going through a divorce, but life is very, very difficult for me right now and this touched me deeply. Life is kicking my ass and I’m about ready to throw in the towel. Reading your posts keep me clinging to the edge. I don’t want to let go. And that’s not just hyperbole, I promise. You have a great community here.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m sorry to hear that, Diana 😦 And yes – I have a marvellous, wonderful community and time and time again, I’m so grateful for the way they rally around and support me and nurture me when life is harsh. An aspect of blogging I never foresaw, but one for which I am truly thankful.

      Don’t let go of that edge. Keep hanging on in there, because you know that whatever situation you’re in will change. Hopefully for the better, but it WILL change.


    • Thanks Tracie. I just think life was too much for us, and all the bad things which happened meant we curled away from each other, instead of growing closer together. It was pretty bad. I’m glad things are over – we’re already both happier and friendlier to each other…so there’s that. 🙂


  3. Aw Christ, I just saw this. I am so sorry. I wish I could make everything better for you *now*, but it’s going to take time. (But I do think someday in the future you’ll be able to breathe, and your body will literally feel so different, so much so that you won’t even recognize yourself. The same for your mind and heart as well.) If I had a magic wand, I’d totally wave it for you. Hugs. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you so much…I’m still very up and down, mood-wise, but I’m still convinced (we’re both still convinced) that this is best for us as individuals, as the marriage hasn’t been working for a long, long time. We’re better as friends, so at least there’s that. Hopefully one day we can be good friends and this not be an issue, yaknow?

      I’m looking forward to your version of the future, though. I hope you’re right 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Pingback: Loving the Unlovable (#1000Speak) | Considerings

      • That;s good, Lizzie. Such a hard step to take and I think it’s pretty evident that you’ve given it all you’ve got. It’s encouraging to see the good in people at time when you can receive a backlash and things can get nasty and I hope this continues. Take care & more hugs xx Ro

        Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you…I wish you didn’t come back to this, but then there’s no ‘good’ time for this to be something you read. Alternatively (from my perspective) whilst I still have all my wits about me is as good a time as any *sigh*. Thank you for the hugs and love . I appreciate you coming over.


  5. Oh, gosh, I’ve been completely out of it for a week. I’m so sorry. Of course you’re desperately sad. Of course. Everything I’m typing is wildly inadequate. I’m your friend if you need me.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Love to you Lizzie, and light too… from me to you. This was difficult to read. Difficult to live. Difficult truths a wise friend said to me not very long ago. Thank you for sharing yours. Thinking of you ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say except that you are such a powerful writer and perhaps your ability with words can help you through this. Stay strong, even when you feel like you can’t. And we will all be thinking about you and sending virtual love!!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks Shay. I think I’m definitely gonna need my words – they keep me going and help me process what’s going on. And thank you…I’ll keep trying to be strong (though arguably it’s part of what got me into this mess in the first place *sigh*)

      Thanks for the virtual love -I do appreciate it.


  8. Pingback: Ten Things of Thankful #95 | Considerings

  9. My divorce that’s in progress was the opposite. No lead-up, not denial, not just getting through. Just bam! And then… oh shit! I announced mine in a newsletter so he couldn’t see since I had taken him off my blog mailing list. The stuff he did is beyond bad and it will probably be eons before I can write about it. I know it doesn’t help much, but just know there are others going through many of same feelings as you right now.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m so sorry Jeri. I knew that you were going through a marriage breakdown and I didn’t want to pry, but I hurt for you, too, and your circumstances are a different set of incredible, soul-deep pain. I suppose my silver lining is that at least I had the benefit of seeing my marriage die slowly, and the eventual acknowledgement that we really were flogging a horse which was dead on its feet before it ever got going.

      Husby saw this post before I sent it live. I don’t intend to vilify or upset him. I hope I never do. It sounds as though you did the right thing in your situation.

      I hope that you find a way through, and I agree that knowing others are in the same boat doesn’t help, but if you ever want to chat, you know how to reach me.

      I’m so sorry you’re in the same kind of boat 😦


  10. Oh Lizzi, I am so sorry. I know divorce is a terrible thing to go through, especially for a sensitive person like you. Please don’t think of it as a failure, because I know you gave it 200%. I know you’re hurting so badly right now, but you and Husby both deserve happiness and if you can’t have that together you’re doing the absolute right thing. I wish I could hug you and hold you right now, but please just know that I’m thinking of you, and you know where to “find” me if you ever need to talk.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you so much Jen, and yes, I really feel like I gave SO MUCH…I’m sure there are ways I could have tried harder/differently/better/more effectively, but in the end, the circumstances and catalogue of disasters have just worn me right down. And it’s so sad. It’s not that we can’t have happiness together – we can, but as friends. Our marriage is just not marriage-y. The dynamics are just too stretched. Thank you so much for being there.


  11. Lizzi, you know how I feel about all of this. I can’t make it better. I can’t help to mend it. I can’t do any of that, but I’m here. And I want to help in the only way I know how. I’m reaching out my hand to hold yours, and I promise I won’t let go. You are brave and strong, and you will make it through this. You will be better. Life will be brighter, and there will be more sunshine. I know it. So do you. You’ve taken the first step. That’s the hardest one.

    Liked by 1 person

    • In the end, there will be all of those things that you say, and thank goodness…I so need them. I’ve been existing under a cloud for so long I feel like I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have sunshine in my soul, except for a few, fleetingly beautiful occasions. I want more sunshine. I need more sunshine.

      And thank you, I shall take your hand and keep hold. Eventually this will be over and there will be another side and I will be on it. Thank you for being there.


  12. No troll hurtling snowballs across the pond here. Just someone who says while I don’t “know” your pain, I feel it. And it sucks. And I’m sorry. I know from your posts that you wanted to succeed and see this as failure. But I don’t. Honestly. I see it as someone who says, I’m done being hurt. And that my friend is not failing it is triumphing. (Is that a word?) It means that for once you are seeing yourself as we see you: strong, self-compassionate, willing to fight the good fight and most importantly knowing that you cannot save the world until you have made yourself safe.

    So no troll, just someone hurtling positive and comforting vibes across the pond who hopes they smack you in the heart.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you. *sigh* It really does feel like failure. We both tried so, so hard. And I hate that it’s nearly killed us both and we’ve still not managed it. That’s the hardest thing…we’ve tried and tried and there’s nothing left.

      It really does suck. And I can’t cope any more. It’s about survival – I can’t do this cycle for the rest of my life. I just can’t. And it’s horrible to feel that way when I still love him – but there’s no marriage left.


      • Leaving doesn’t mean you don’t love one another. It just means you know both of you will be better apart. That’s what love sometimes is, not hurting. Which sounds like a really bad Hallmark card

        Liked by 1 person

        • I know. Except he now keeps saying he wishes it would work and should we try again and omg I am so messed up. Half of me wants to and (the stronger) half of me recognises that nothing has changed and nothing is likely to and I just can’t. ACK! ACK!


    • Thanks Kellie. And yes – that about sums it up. Thank you – life should be more, even if it hasn’t been so far, there is still the chance that it might be. I’m hoping for that. I just hope my shoulders are going to be strong enough.

      Liked by 1 person

        • Yes, thank goodness. I’m going to need my Village – this is already much harder than I thought it would be 😦 I didn’t think THIS bit, when almost nothing is happening…would be so hard. I thought the actual going through stuff and getting rid of ‘us’ stuff and him eventually leaving would be hard, but I completely didn’t know how hard the just BEING here would be.


  13. I have been away from the Ten Things of Thankful, and something said in my heart to pop over, and this is heartbreaking. I wish there was something I could say that would make you feel better. Alas, I have nothing, because “life is a bitch, if it were easy, it’d be called a whore.” I will keep you and your husband in my thoughts. Hugs.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks Donetta. There’s no way to make this one gentle or nice – it’s just horrid. And thanks – Husby and I need all the positive thoughts we can get.

      (I’ve never heard that version of ‘life’s a bitch’ before! Good one!)

      Liked by 1 person

  14. No words to say, nothing I can think of would help, or salve, or bandage your hurt. All I can tell you is that you are strong, you are a fighter, you are a carer, you have love and tiggers in your heart which will get you through.

    Never hesitate to shout, or call, or message, or mutter at me – and if we could meet, halfway maybe, if that would help or distract, we could do that.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I want to meet you halfway, one day – not to help or distract, but just to MEET YOU and give you that embarrassed English hug, and talk about beagles and camping and camper vans and space-whales and all sorts. But thanks – I might well take you up on your offer of a listening ear.

      Nothing will fix this now, except the process and the eventual moving on, for both of us. I DO have love and tiggers in my heart. They will help, I hope 🙂


  15. hiiii…so I am here, cus Dani…and then I am here cus you, I read your article above.

    and I can tell you this…I will hang in there together with you. we don’t know each other, but my life is quite difficult at times, and particularly now, in transition and declared dead by people who swore they supported me but bailed and now call me dead and a mask…at the same time…and demon possessed and a demon itself…the only ones who know me and see me are strangers whom I have never met…

    …and I am so tempted at times, just as you likely are too.

    but oddly, as I read above and my heart went out to you forever and ever like a tide that wouldn’t stop running out to fill the rip, i felt like hanging in…and I will do that, if for no other reason than to think of you, and send you love…just love. just affirmation for trying so hard…for bearing up and being amazing when everyone else is pissed cus they think you werent enough. oh you were, grl, and you are…enuff!!

    there is no comparison of lives and hurts and burdens…there is only us, we survivors whom life has obliterated and then regards so little so as not to deliver the coup de gras…well, let’s us together live so as to make it regret its foolish oversight. cus we are getting tougher, harder, enured to this shit,

    …and we will make it regret it, cus there are gonna be empty shackles and captives free by what we learned.

    i have such tremendous empathy for you, and if i could pile all my leftover supplies into your supply i would.

    but you…there. me…here…and life? one big foot shaped target on its ass that we will both kick like as if it is a soccer ball and we bending it like david fucking beckham.

    deepest, tenderest strongest “fuck yous” to destruction and “we are HERE’s” to persistance!
    charissa ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Charissa, that read like a battle speech, and I feel like in the coming months I’m going to need to be armoured and prepared for some seriously rocky moments, and I will try to remember this – that through sharing our experiences, we can boost others on who feel like they might be overwhelmed, and that together we’re stronger.

      I’m still working on being ‘enough’, but I hope one day I’ll get there.

      Thank you so much, and HERE’S TO KICKING LIFE’S ASS!

      We are here. We are HERE!

      Liked by 1 person

  16. Oh, Lizzi – if I was there I would give you a long hug and cry with you for a while, before taking you out to do something totally inappropriate and perhaps scandalous, definitely with liquor involved. My heart aches for you because I know exactly how it feels to know that a marriage is doomed, but still hope against hope that there is a way to fix it, only to finally realize that it is irrevocably broken. It doesn’t matter who makes the final decision – it’s still heartbreaking. I hope you know that I’m always here for you – I’m messaging you my number and email through Facebook.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Jana. I’ve actually been thinking of you quite often, because I think your situation is probably the one I know which is closest to mine, in many ways, in spite of so much being different. I feel like going out together and getting pissed would probably be a brilliant idea (though I suspect we’d probably talk about the scandalous perhaps, rather than actually *do* anything, but we’d have GREAT talks), and thank you – I’ll pop over to FB in a few, and get your details. *sigh* It’s completely heartbreaking and that struggle on and on is so hard…as is making it be over. I will message you. Thank you.


  17. You are right. And writing the truth is the right thing to do. You are so much stronger for having the strength to look the truth in the eye and follow through. Weakness is knowing and living it anyway. I get angry and cover my anger up in blah blah blah. Because being vulnerable is my biggest fear, and when I see you open up your insides and let them all out, I admire you more than you could ever ever understand. My real life stays behind closed doors because fear of judgement overwhelms me.
    You are proof that judgement doesn’t come, what comes is compassion, love and support. You have all of those from me.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you so much, Jen, that really matters. I think in a way my ‘weapon’ such as it is, is low self-esteem, because if someone else judges me negatively then on the whole it just confirms bad things I thought about myself, so it’s nothing new, really. And when people are more supportive and encouraging, and kinder to me than I would be, then it’s amazing and wonderful and affirming and beautiful. I’m not saying that’s a GOOD reason to be vulnerable in ink, but it’s part of why I don’t mind so much. (There’s also probably an element of shocking arrogance there, which makes me something of an exhibitionist. Or something. Not sure)

      In this case, because I’m so open about…well, everything…hiding this would be a nightmare. And not being able to write free about it, which helps me process, would be a double nightmare. So it was best to get it over with.

      Thank you for your support and care and compassion. They are much appreciated, too.


    • I hope that you’re right. My big fear is finding that for either of us, it will be extremely worse than it is now. Or as it was. I really want this to be something which does BOTH of us some good, and at the moment it seems to be, but my fear is about the practicalities for Husby – where he’ll go and what he’ll do. I need to keep remembering that even though I was the one who called it quits and made the move, it took two of us to let the relationship get so bad (circumstances aside) that I got to that point, it’s not my responsibility to make sure he’s okay. And I feel guilty, which sucks. But I want him to be okay.


  18. I send love because I have nothing else to offer. The eyes must cry, the heart must rage and the soul must ache and in the midst of it all we must breathe. It’s personal, it’s painful and when you are able, please do dare to reach out and grab onto the love that we are all sending your way…

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you. I have been clinging to it, and it has helped. And it matters, and it is making a difference and I am so very grateful. This is an awful storm to go through but I think I will come out the other side, and hopefully still friends with Husby. But just awfulness in the meantime.


  19. I don’t think you weren’t enough, I think that what happened was too much – which is completely understandable… You guys have had very hard times, so you’re not to be blamed, both of you aren’t… I sincerely hope you will find a way to remain friends indeed, after everything that you’ve been through together, and I hope life will be easier on you from this very moment on. I hope that we, here, can at least lighten it all a little bit…

    Liked by 1 person

    • You do, all of you. It’s magical, and rather wonderful how the community of the Blogosphere has the ability to reach out across the miles and MATTER, and I’m so very thankful and grateful.

      I think it would be good to remain friends if we can. It’s not that either of us wishes the other one ill, or even wishes that the marriage couldn’t have worked. We have just faced absolutely insurmountable odds. And have found ourselves unequal to them. It’s a terrible situation, but it IS the situation, rather than either of us.


      • As you say… And there is not much you can do about the situation unfortunately. Never forget though that it is indeed the situation and not you! And if anything, here are virtual hugs (unlimited) for when you need them:

        *virtual hugs*

        Liked by 1 person

        • Thank you. I have a feeling I shall need lots and lots of them. And yes – it is the situation, and the situation remains, even if we both wish it didn’t. I just need to keep remembering that.


  20. Hey Lizzie… I haven’t been on WP or FB for two weeks and this is the first post I’ve seen.
    I am so so sorry… you will get through this dark tunnel and you will see sunshine and better days. I know you probably don’t feel like that right now… but you will. My thoughts and best wishes are with you. xxx

    Liked by 1 person

  21. To me Lizzi, it sounds far from defeat.

    This is so sound and poignant: “There are good things about each of us, which remain valid…but they’re not enough to build a marriage on. And certainly not enough to re-build a marriage on.”

    Liked by 1 person

  22. I am so sorry. I know I am essentially a stranger to you, but I too offer my ear, shoulder and experience (having been there and done that, as it were) for whatever its worth. No matter what, you are in my thoughts.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. And I think I’m going to be really grateful for the advice and thoughts of people who’ve gone through it. It’s just so horrible. And…you’re part of my Village. Maybe on the edge a little ways at the moment, but I know you’re there, and I’m glad of you 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  23. And so for you, I say, you are absolutely fucking right. Not fair, not fair at all. I think anyone who knows you knows that you’ve tried with all you have and then a little more, just to prove that you could. We all love you so much, and I too wish I could be there to hold you and let you crash on my shoulder. I am one among many who is here for you, anytime. xoxo

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, my friend. I so appreciate that, and you always have been there for me. I would crash COMPLETELY. And in fact I’m about to go and crash into bed. I am done in. And thank you for being there…this just sucks so much, and we tried so, SO hard, as you said…and just…I hate the feeling that neither of us, or our efforts, was enough. But they weren’t. We were bested. And life is unfair.

      Liked by 1 person

  24. This is one of those times when the comment section on a site is inadequate. I could offer pithy commentary or heartfelt support or observations from my own experience……..and none of it really replaces a genuine hug or eye contact or time out of my day to reach out to you. In the coming days and weeks, I’ll hold you very close to my heart as you trudge through this canyon of Life. xo

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you so much, Andra. It really is a canyon, but no longer and Abyss, which is what it felt like before. I’m just so blessed to have such kind and generous people surrounding me, offering their care and support and encouragement. I have a feeling I’m going to need plenty of it.


  25. Warm sweet hugs, a cuppa tea and a bit of hat shopping. It’s been a long hard road for you sweet Lizzi. My heart is with you as you begin this transition.

    Liked by 1 person

  26. Any words I write will surely seem inadequate and hollow, merely characters on a screen before you, if I could somehow wrap them around you in some fashion of comfort I certainly would. No sentiments can be offered to remedy this moment in time, not completely, some pain simply has to be felt before it can fade. Feel it, grow from it, careful not to nurture it, and then give it wings. You are so much stronger than you know, perhaps a beautiful friendship will blossom and the dark clouds will dissipate. Hold tight to the love and let the rest become memory. Love you sweet Lizzi.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Crystal – that’s a really good way to look at all the hurt. I really hope that I can manage to feel it and then let it go. If I grow in the process, so much the better, but I know I don’t want to hang onto it and turn it to bitterness.

      I hope for friendship, I really do.

      Thank you ❤


  27. If my arms could reach, they would wrap tightly around you in support and understanding. It takes an insightful person, as painful as it is, to recognize the need to call it quits before determination and resolve fester into animosity and resentment — things that will eat at your heart far deeper than admitting defeat. I am thinking of you, believing in you, and offering my support in your decision to “quit” on everything in this equation except yourself.

    Hugs, me dear…

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you so much, Ned. I think if I hadn’t been so pig-headed about keeping trying and that ‘being married’ was the right thing, and that maybe, somehow, in spite of everything, we could still make it work, then Husby would have had his way, and we would have split up sooner. Those bad things have begun to grow, over the past N number of months/years, and I need to make sure they get knocked on the head. Interestingly, since we made this decision, it’s been easier, like the pressure’s off.

      Thank you for the hugs.

      Liked by 1 person

      • I know that feeling all to well. And yes, once the decision is reached and you take that first step, there is a sense of relief knowing you don’t have to continue the dance where both of you are repeatedly stepping on eachother’s feet. Life and love realy are a dance; the trick is to find a rhythm that is your own. When you notice someone else dancing to the same beat, that’s when life and love come together at their best.

        (Disclaimer: I am a terrible dancer.)

        Liked by 1 person

        • I made a meme for my pilates teacher about my inner dancer – cos it’s a brick. With Tourette’s. I really, really can’t dance. Not even.

          Perhaps there will one day be someone with my ‘beat’. I don’t think I’m going to be seeking anyone for a long while though. I have no energy left to dance, at the moment. The relief is the kind you get when you’ve run an endurance race and get past the finish line and fall onto the floor, all battered and bruised and covered with mud, and just…done.

          Liked by 1 person

          • We would proabbly have the dance floor to ourselves. Or in spite of ourselves, I’m not sure which. All I know is that someone would probably get hurt 😉

            And yes, you definitely need to take the time to catch your breath before anything else. It’s the only way you can finally take a deep breath at some point out of relief instead of exhaustion.


  28. At first I thought the title may have been referring to your blogging/writing, but knowing you, with your daily posts both on your own site and others, that seemed impossible. Then you also have your little tricky posts full of red-herrings and antics with lead-ins the rival those oft used “Blah Blah Blah, and you won’t believe what happened next!” articles. But clearly that would have been a post for April 1st.

    First off, I want to say how deeply saddened I am to hear of this recent development. It’s never an easy step to make, or a joyous one (well, okay, there are exceptions, but you get the drift). If I can speak blunt, however, as I am generally bound to do (and mean no offense), I’ve borderline feared this moment for a long time.

    I’m not saying “I saw this coming from a mile away”, but more so I think you did yourself. Knew it was coming. On some level. I truly, honest to God, feel it’s been foreshadowed in your writing for a long time now. Bleeding through your soul in written form. Whether aware of it or not, I cannot say, only you know the truth of your thoughts — nevermind the ability to decipher which thoughts are from your heart of hearts from love or from your mind wrapped in a dark fugue, being overwritten by depression, attempting to sabotage anything you love and hold dear — but I think if you look back over the two or so years, you may see it. Maybe not. I believe I did.

    I feared, because I knew at the time, you seemed to be at a fragile state (still can be) when certain dates/events arise. And I’m not talking in a sexist, you a woman and are weak blah blah blah bullshit. Reality is you have endured things and they have left their mark and they still affect you. I’ve always had faith you would survive one way or another, as you have through all those said challenges. But I also recall that the love and support of your husband played a huge role in that. So I worried, depending on timing, when something like this may occur, where you’d be at emotionally. Supportwise.

    Not that your husband wouldn’t be around in any sort of capacity, I think it’s great and important to give it the effort to remain friends. I just never knew you well enough to know who you knew outside of maybe one or two people and your niece and neff, etc etc. But I realized if you take a look at where you are, over the past years, if nothing else, you’ve single handedly built yourself an amazing support group (both online and off) full of people who love and adore you and are willing/wanting to be there for you during your times of need! It’s fantastical! It’s as though subconsciously you were preparing yourself.

    Just know that while things may get really hard, and/or seemingly dark, that you aren’t ever truly alone.

    I’m proud of you both, granted I don’t really know your husband. Nonetheless, it takes a lot of courage to do the right thing, especially under circumstances such as these. And from the sounds of it you are both attempting to go through it amicably and being supportive of one another, again hoping to remain friends. There is nothing to be gained by being angry and spiteful towards one another, but it may happen in spurts, as emotions get the best of us, and that is okay. Just communicate and revisit once things settle and are digested.

    As you mentioned, for the sake of both of your happiness, this is likely the best course of action to take. From what you have said in the past, your husband sounds like a great man and you are a wonderful woman. Sometimes things just don’t work out. Instead of constantly, while unintentionally, causing stress and dis-ease in one another, I trust you two have fully discussed (or plan to) how to mitigate those lingering emotions in the coming days/weeks/etc as you transition into newer stages of your individual lives.

    This is not the end, but a new beg…. blah blah blah you get the fucken picture >.<

    I know we have fallen out of touch since I stopped blogging, but hopefully you know that I always have and always will care about you and think of you as a dear friend. You know where to find me, not that I would recommend seeking out my council. Rarely do I ever know WTF I'm talking about!

    I wish you and Joe the best in the next adventure of your journeys and that you are both able to find the happiness you seek and deserve (yes I read your thoughts on that word, but suck it the fuck up, we all deserve happiness)!

    And Lizzi… Lizzi Lizzi Lizzi… I swear to fuck, that if I find out this was one of those ruse posts… So help me God, I will find you :p

    Sorry, I can't be all serious… I have a reputation to uphold!

    Liked by 3 people

    • You have such a wonderful, shinybright soul, Jak, and I appreciate every word of this. It was like balm. THANK YOU. And no – not a ruse. I can’t even say I wouldn’t joke about something this serious, because I did that one about Dyanne, but no – this is genuine and genuinely awful and terrible and such an incredible shame.

      You’re right – he is such a good man, and I’ve always thought that, and continue to. One of the best I know…it’s just that as a marriage, this isn’t. It just isn’t. And perhaps you’re right – I may well have foreshadowed. Certainly there have been several times in the past when I’ve been close to leaving, but those were usually in times of desperation or anger. This time it’s soul-deep exhaustion and I just can’t do this any more.

      And it’s sad. It’s just sad.

      I have a few people around me In Real, in terms of friends, and I have my family, who are all being very supportive. I wish Husby had a few more people, but he’s got people around him as well. It just feels so odd not to be able to turn to each other for comfort any more – not that we did much, but sometimes…


      Thank you for such wonderful words, Jak. Yes, I built this community intentionally and with hard work – not for *this* purpose, per se, but just because it’s a wonderful and good thing to build, and to have those strong bonds with others. It’s important, and for me, now, more so than ever.

      I’m so glad you’re part of it. Thank you ❤


      • Me too, but this would be far too cruel. I’ve done one cruel one before, I know, but that was for a cause. (and I’m still torn on whether it was the right thing to do, though it was nonetheless effective). This…no.


  29. It takes a lot of strength to write with such a raw spirit. It shows that you will get through this. Whatever Life has lined up, you will be okay. I know that Maya Angelou wrote her poem “Still I rise” with a different purpors in mind, but say it out loud to Life. Here’s the poem Take care.

    Liked by 2 people

    • So far I’m hanging on in there, and I just kind of see this as the latest catastrophe to befall, and will shrug my shoulders and trudge on, as much as I can, and when I fall, I know I have people around me to help me back to my feet. Thank you for the poem – I shall definitely look it up. I could do with some poetry right now.


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