You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t expect it. You were trying so hard to be like everyone expected you to be. You knew the stigma you would have if you gave up so you kept trying. But when he gave up on you, he pointed out and exploited every flaw you could possibly feel insecure about and used those flaws to blame you for the breakdown.
When you sat in the room with the marriage counselor and heard all the things about yourself you needed to change to keep the relationship functional. When you looked at pictures of the woman he was cheating with, and wished you were like her. You broke. You lost yourself. You lost your ability to blindly believe that everything will work out. You forgot who you were. You compromised on things you shouldn’t have and slowly chipped away at the person you’ve become. You looked in the mirror and you saw a sad stranger.
The depression from this was consuming and not 4 months before this you were struggling with the fallout from being held up at gunpoint. You were tackling post post postpartum depression with no support around you. You tried to pretend that you were fine because the world doesn’t like people who are sad. You wanted to be strong for your family. Your baby.
But inside you were dead. You were so mad. You were angry with happy people, you despised the advice forced on you. You were not the sunny person who spent her days cracking jokes and making people laugh. Your new daily goal was to drink until it didn’t hurt and sleep. And when you woke up every new day sleeping on a couch next to the baby’s crib, you were sad. Because you woke up. You fantasized about a life without you. How your family would cope. Who would care for your son. You wished and even prayed for the courage to end this life filled with pain and failure. When you went up stairs and ran that bath you counted the ways you could die in it. You took those sleep aids and finished the wine. You laid in the tub listening to your favorite song and prayed it was the last time you would hear it. You were laying face first on rock bottom and didn’t bother getting up. You pushed as many people as possible away and you spent more time on destroying things than fixing them.
I forgive you. I hated you for giving up. I despised the self wallowing and the dark depression. You lost who you really are, you are a fighter. You do not give up. But I forgive you. Because you learned how to pull yourself up. No man did that. You did it. You learned your flaws are your’s, and you celebrate them. After some soul searching you discovered that you choose to look for happiness when you drift to the sad. You marched through the divorce with your pride semi in tact and you taught yourself how to compromise. You still cry. You still feel sad but now it doesn’t consume you anymore. You work every day on yourself. As for him, you forgave him easily. He destroyed you but he did you a favor. Something easily forgiven. But giving up on yourself and your sweet baby boy. That was hard to forgive.