I’m the Asshole

It’s been 60 days since we filed for divorce.

It’s been almost 4 months since we left.

I wake up some mornings and still can’t believe that he’s gone..

I should feel something by now, besides empty I think, yet I don’t. I don’t know how I should feel.. Even now I don’t much really feel anything else but regret.

And this pain. I don’t see this pain going anywhere anytime soon..

You see, it turns out I’m the Asshole. I’m the one..

When I started this blog I needed an outlet, a place to put the things I thought and felt and couldn’t see so I could go about my life with some control…

Rewind a few years..

When Grace was 6 we did genetics testing. When the results came back with no chromosomal mutations, the neurologist sat us down and told us they were wrong. Gracie would live a much longer life than he’s anticipated. She was happy and healthy and well taken care of and wasnt this the best news we could have possibly gotten?

We’d never dreamed such a thing would happen.. It was amazing. It was terrifying. It was a really big deal.

My first thought was that this could only be a miracle.. My second was that I would have to move home where I might have help. And then I freaked out.

I suddenly had this awful, distorted view of what was coming.. body hair and maxi pads and puberty..

Yep, I freaked out. I shut down.

Dratton started working more and talkng less, and I was just left there on my own.. he couldn’t handle the truth of it and so he bailed.

Over the next few years I saw less and less of my husband. We started arguing more and spent less and less time together. The older girls moved out and our house became silent and the life that we once had was all but gone.

The little details between then and now really don’t matter anymore, so I wont bore you with my day to day trials..

Last week, mid-sentence in an angry text message, it hit me.

My reaction was OMG this is forever.. its not fair.

His reaction was OMG I can’t take care of her forever.

So he went to work. He worked hard. He worked until he hurt every day. He never complained. He never threw a tantrum. He never shed a tear.

In four years not once did it occur to me that he was afraid.

In four years I never asked him if he was ok…

We got a divorce because we couldn’t talk to each other, but beneath it all… ?

I am the asshole.

(An unedited version)

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