There is no way to make the phrase Mr. Vaughn and I are getting a divorce any less ugly. It’s raw, like the way the spot in my chest feels every time I draw in a breath. It’s been coming for a while. A few years, maybe. It’s hard to pinpoint an exact time because it was gradual. Neither of us did anything horrible to the other. But we did neglect our relationship. There’s blame on both sides. We weren’t communicating well. I missed hearing what he was saying and he didn’t articulate how serious he felt things had gotten. I still love him and am willing to fight for the relationship. He isn’t. There’s not much more to say about that.
It hurts every time I think about the things I could have done differently. I’d give up almost anything to go back in time and fix things. But I can’t. So now I’m contemplating a future without him. He’s the person I wanted to grow old and grey with and with that gone, I’m not sure what lies ahead.
I’m terrified and hurting and so damn grateful for the people who’ve helped me through this first part of it. There’s a lot I have to figure out still. Legally, it won’t be too awful, since we don’t have kids and we’re in agreement about what to do with the house. But untangling two lives that have been intertwined for eleven years is a tricky, painful process. I’ve barely begun and there are days I wonder how I’ll ever get through it all.
I probably won’t say much more about it publically, because it’s hard enough to deal with in private.
Those of you who already know, thank you for all the love and support. I don’t think I would have made it this far without you.
Will this affect my writing? Probably, although these days it feels like a salvation. A distraction from everything else going on in my head.
Even in the darkest, most awful moments, I still believe in happily ever after’s. Even if mine didn’t work out the way I planned.