I hate to write “downer” entries, but this blog is called “Honestly, Megan”, and I can’t always be 100% optimistic. I am not feeling well today. Part of that is due to staying up until almost 1 AM watching the Oscars.
Part of it is because D told MIL yesterday that he wants a divorce…and then told me on the phone how truly miserable he is. All this time I’ve been telling myself how happy he is, how much he wanted this, when in reality, it’s not that he wanted it, it’s because he was too scared to do anything except step aside and let this marriage fall to pieces.
Part of it is because I look back on the last two years and see a beautiful relationship that imploded, and it just hurts, it hurts to see every hope and dream we ever had in shambles, damaged and irreparable.
Part of it is because I am so tired that it truly hurts.
Part of it is because I am tired of crying, and I’m even more tired of people telling me that I am foolish for crying, foolish for hurting. I hate that certain people act like I have to put on a happy face all the time, because sometimes, I am anything but happy. Sometimes I need to grieve. Sometimes I need to hurt, and shunting my feelings under the rug? Doesn’t help.
I am sorry that my crying and my pain and my grief is offensive to people. I am sorry if people think I am better than that, and in reality, I am not. That I am tough and strong and I DGAF that my marriage fell apart, that the man I love changed into a completely different person, that even though so many have told me that this isn’t my fault, I still feel responsible because we were each other’s responsibility and I never realized that something was really this wrong until it was too late.
I’m sorry that people don’t want to see the mess left behind. They want me to feel nothing. They want me to be stronger, and I’m not. I’m just me. Honestly Megan. Just me.
And even though it’s just one more nail in the coffin, and a nail I’d been expecting, I can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt like hell when it goes in.
This is not going to be an easy ride. You can get off it at any time. I can’t. I am in this until the end. It’s started, I can’t stop it, and I only have two choices. Ride it out, and pray that there’s something good at the end. Or throw myself out and die. I can’t do the latter, so it has to be the former. I’m sorry if the ride is longer than you thought it would be. It’s much, much longer than I expected, myself.
But I have no choice, I have to ride it out. Ride or die.
If you can’t handle me at my worst, then you can go. This is unfortunately as good as it’s going to get right now. I can’t promise that it will get better soon, but I can promise that it will get better. I just don’t know when.
Right now, it just hurts. And I need to grieve. I don’t mean shut myself in my room, I am not doing that. I am not sitting here mourning all the time. But I am going to break down and cry. I am going to be sad. I am not going to be gleeful as my soon to be ex husband falls apart. I can’t sit and calmly talk about severing the marriage that we so lovingly built up. I can’t think about seeing my MIL for the last time, of never seeing my IL’s again, and not tear up.
I am not made of stone. And I can’t apologize for that.