The Roller Coaster Ride

I can’t even get the words out fast enough; I cannot write tall enough, strong enough, sad enough. I don’t know what to say to you all except this is the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to walk through in my life. The emotions woven through this are lower than low, the highs are just so-so, and the recovery process is like walking in a pool of water. I’m moving in slow-motion.

I thank you all for commenting when you do. I thank you for emailing. Texting. Writing. Calling. Stopping by.

I was doing well. I have to say, I was doing very well.

It’s the name of the game, and this is just not going to be a cake walk. I am not rejected, but I am rejected, but it’s not about me, but it is about me. What is it about me that keeps him away? Why does he see the good in me and then he can’t see the good in me? Why do I respect my vows but he does not? Why do I have to be single when it’s very possible he’s in the comfort of another woman’s arms? I’m not saying there is. But why do I even have to wonder? Is that fair? Oh, but life is NOT fair, right? And some of us get hurt. And some of us get burned. There’s so much pain in the world I can hardly stand it. I cannot even stand my own.

Today I do feel rejected. Unwanted. Unloved.

How could I write such a post as the one I wrote yesterday and then today fall to pieces? How can I stand tall and then fall to the ground as my legs crumple beneath me? How can I let go of that boy? I never meant to be a single mom. I never meant to give birth to this creature and then have to let him go like I do. To watch him cry in pain like I do. To see him act out like I do. He can barely get the words out sometimes before he falls into my arms crying, “Daddy! I want my Daddy! I miss my Daddy!” I’m falling apart today. Where is the strength in that?

Yesterday I met with other people in a similar situation as myself. I was floored at the pain I heard in the room. I’m not alone. Unless you’ve been through such grief, it’s possible to not understand. That’s why I’ve been told by those who have not been through this that I was too dependent upon my husband. I was told that I was co-dependent. I was told that I needed to snap out of this. I was told that I needed to get a life.

Well, I had a life. And I was independent. Maybe too much so. And if I could snap out of this I would!

What I heard yesterday for the first time was what marriage means to some people. Two become one. I was always very independent. In a marriage, you become interdependent. That’s OK. That’s healthy. It’s not sick to depend upon your spouse.

As well, in separation and D, there is so much loss. You lose your best friend. You lose your whole entire life. My child is the hardest. I lose seeing him wake up daily, putting him to bed nightly. I only get to do that 4 nights a week. I lose seeing him be happy and carefree. Oliver is so angry lately! He cries so often with a fierceness, and underneath that is the hurt. For myself, I’m going to lose our home. Financially I will hurt. I lose our meetings we used to attend together, the events we attended together. Matt will continue to go to those. I will not. (It’s like losing your church in a way.) Our trips to Door County are no longer. No more trips to Europe with my European husband travel guide. We did it all together. I just realized that Switzerland is one of my losses. My husband is Swiss. We traveled there every couple years together. Sure I can travel there without him. I may have to someday. But today that’s too painful to think about. As well, I come home and there are no more Friday night dinners, just the three of us. No more Saturday night movies. No more Sunday breakfasts, no more Sunday afternoon foot ball games. No more weekends away. No more family outings. No more sharing Oliver stories and laughing. No more standing over his bed together, arm in arm, as he sleeps. No more family. No more getting the three of us together. No more companionship. No more love. No sex. No partner. No one to talk to in bed, no one to bring a cup of coffee to in the morning. It’s all gone. Write it down. Add it up. It totals my life. My whole dang life. The loss is immeasurable. It’s a whole life.

And he doesn’t even care!!

He doesn’t want our life. He doesn’t care about one single thing that was a part of his life. He chucked it all. Me. The house. The yard. The stuff. Gone. He split. I’m not even sure if he’s looked back. He’s busy. Maybe there’s another woman. I don’t know. Seriously, I don’t know if there is or not. I don’t know where he lives. It sure sounds like it he’s hiding one. No more counseling. No more talking. Nothing. It’s all gone. At this point, it’s easier to D than to get back together. It’s more work to get back together. Only a God-granted miracle will change the course of this ship.

I suspect those papers will come any day now. Sometime this spring.

And that just breaks my heart because I think I really was hanging onto a bit of hope.

How will I ever forgive him for this?


  1. Just like your title of this post, the roller coaster ride, this too shall pass! Hold on though, life is that way. I feel your anguish on so many of those levels and all l can say is that when we come out on the other side WE will be better. Like you said we are better already and there is someone who is out there for us. Give it time it will happen. <3

  2. Oh Andrea, I wish I could hug you!

    It's OK for this to be a roller coaster. It's that way by design. It makes me think of training for a marathon. You start out weary. The runs are impossible. You feel hopeless. Then one day you have a great run! And feel energized to keep on! And somewhere in there, you have a lot more bad days. And some good ones, too. And before you know it, even the bad runs are not so bad. You are building strength and stamina. You NEED the bad days to make the good days sweeter. If your runs were always easy, you would not be learning a thing.

    I don't know if that analogy made any sense to you. But there is purpose in these days of pain. They are not a lack of progress. They ARE the progress.

    Keep at it. This stranger and random-blog-reader is pulling for you!

  3. Andrea, you're alright. You're fine. You're doing EXACTLY what you need to do. God it sucks. It sucks SO HARD. And it's ok girl. Get ANGRY as hell if you need to. Anger is a stage. Go through it. Welcome it. Hug it. Punch it. Rip it apart. Do what you need to do. Listen to yourself and obey yourself. The most frightening part of divorce can also be the most encouraging: Freedom. You are on your own. That is wonderful in so many ways. It's not a contest, which way is better? It doesn't matter. Life doesn't give us those choices really. You're alone, or you're not. I'll never forget something a therapist told me: "You were happy before you were together, you'll be happy when you're not." Be patient with yourself and forgiving. Forget forgiving HIM girl you need to forgive YOU. It takes a long time to get through this. A long time. And when you think it's calm and smooth something comes along and breaks through the thin layer and pulls you back. And you have to fight, fight, fight your way out and back to where you belong -confident, happy, healthy. It's not about finding someone who loves you it's about being someone who loves you. Then anyone else who loves you, that's just extra. His motives, his reasons, his ideas don't matter. They have nothing to do with you. It is his agreements, his code that have led him to this. Rebuild. You are a damn strong woman. It's obvious. It rages through in your words. You have what it takes to come out on top. Show your kid. Show yourself. Show the freaking world. You're unstoppable girl. You just have to decide which way you're going-- up or down. You, you, you. For once in a very long time, it's all about YOU.

  4. Oh my god, I love you guys. Really. I do. Thank you. All of you.



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