I’ve just begun a new chapter in my life.
I thought I was starting this chapter a little over two years ago. However, that was not the case. Instead, I was just postponing this moment. The moment in which I get to know me. At almost 45 years old you might think I’d know me pretty well. Not the case. It all starts now.
I met the man I would marry when I was 19. He was 22. When we got married I was 23 and he was 26. We were young and although he probably wouldn’t think so, we were both inexperienced. I know I was inexperienced. I had gone through high school with no boyfriends, I had lots of boy friends, but no boyfriend. Then I met him and he moved in with me 4 days after our first date. Lord help my children if they ever come to me with some ridiculous idea like that. (Of course I did not consult my parents prior to inviting him to move in). Four years later we were married and we began, together, to learn about “being married.”
Getting married at such a young age was not right for me. I know people do it all the time and succeed. For me, it wasn’t right. At 19, and even at 23, I did not know who I was — what I could bring to the table — what I wanted out of life. Add to that the changing that goes on in ones life throughout their 20s and 23 was too young.
Around the time I turned 40 I started to question whether our version of “married” was right. For so many years I had just gone with it. He did have a lot more experience in the relationship department so I figured he must know something. At 40 I didn’t think anymore that he knew what he was doing. Or maybe I should say I knew at 40 that I didn’t agree with the way we were doing “marriage.”
We had created a perfect picture, I’ll give us that. Husband, wife, two children, a nice big house in the ‘burbs, a sports car for him, an SUV for her. Lovely, indeed. . . on the outside.
There was no physical abuse, but that’s all I’ll say right now. Maybe later, as this Blog evolves I’ll find myself needing to dig deep into what we had created and why I felt the need to remove myself and my children from the situation.
3 months before our 19th wedding anniversary I advised my husband I wanted a divorce. No, I did not wake up one morning and say “hmmm, think I’ll get a divorce.” This had been a long time coming. For years I had had the thought, but refused to give it any light. For the sake of my children, for the sake of appearances, for the sake of me, him. “I can change,” “if I just do it this way it’ll be better,” — just prolonged the moment, the moment when I could start to get to know me.
That was two years and four months ago, yet the journey is just beginning now. . .