Divorce Diary

[Tuesday After]

This started almost two months ago.

 

I have kept a diary.

 

I think I am going to post excerpts from the diary to try to puke this out of my system, give my honest take on things, and possibly help somebody out there.

 

To everyone going through this, you've got my utmost sympathy.

[Tuesday After]

She's a lot younger than me. A lot. Don't ask.

 

Love at first sight for me. She walked into the restaurant that I was managing looking for a job. I was gone.

 

I was committed to her from the start. We were together for six years. I was married and divorced once already; then in a long term for eight years. She also left me.

 

I am not a terrible guy. I battle with depression, but not so much that I can't get out of bed, or hold down a job. I am very high functioning, great with money, very faithful, and honest with both my strengths and my weaknesses.

 

Unfortunately, depression kinda sucks the fun out of life and sucks the air out of any relationship.

 

I was also a struggling musician for a lot of my life, which is not a fate that I would wish on anyone. Hence, the restaurant career.

 

I have been in therapy for a total of 9 years, three of which were couples therapy with my second girl.

 

I have tried 5 different antidepressants.

 

I have unfortunately had no success.

 

And now, here I am again. A three time loser.

[Tuesday After]

I cannot believe that I am here again. Good grief.

 

Anyway, after six years, she wanted to get married. I didn't care either way, I was totally committed to her, piece of paper, or not.

 

But one of the reasons that I lost my second relationship was that I could not get myself to marry again at that point--even though it had been six years since my first divorce.

 

So, I asked her to marry me.

 

We bought a house and renovated it together. We built a garden and got chickens. I didn't want to do any of this. One of the things about depression is that sometimes it's hard to take on big projects. But I did it all, and I did it well. It took a ton out of me, but I did it for her, and I did it for me. And I got to love those chickens more than she did. I practically took on the whole responsibility, while she flitted off to something else. That is a personality trait of hers that I loved and hated in equal parts.

[Tuesday After]

I'm not gonna lie. A younger woman is a challenge. For some reason, I made up my mind very early on to just let her do what she wanted, as long as it wasn't dangerous. And, although beautiful, she was the nerdy type...not particularly interested in looking at other men, seemingly content and happy being a wife. I never felt insecure around her. She never mentioned my age.

 

I don't look my age, nor do I act it. Being a musician, there is always something a little ageless about you. And being artistic, I'm artistic, I'm always somewhat in touch with cutting edge stuff.

 

But, when it comes down to where the cheese binds (whatever that means), you're never gonna fool anybody.

 

That being said, I was never jealous for a second. She never gave me cause to be jealous.

 

She loved to cook. She made soap, she made homemade lip balm, shampoo, moisturizer. We brewed Kombucha together. We ate eggs from our chickens and vegetables from the garden. She dragged me around to every restaurant in town and we tasted everything, and she tried all the silly new cocktails that bars concoct for amateurs.

 

Was life perfect? No. I still struggled with depression and existential angst.

I withheld nothing from her. She knew every thing about me, and I was very careful to tell her when I was acting from depression.

 

Was she perfect? No. She was somewhat scatterbrained and not a good communicator.

 

But I was happier than I had ever been in my life. If someone had told me how it would end, I would have laughed in their face.

[Tuesday After]

So here's how it happened:

 

Her father died suddenly, about 5-6 months before she dropped the bomb on my life. He was taken to the hospital, heart attack, brain not functioning. We got there within 20 minutes. She watched him die. I couldn't do it.

 

She hides her emotions. Still waters run deep. She barely cried. I was a mess. I cried more than enough for everyone.

 

She quit her bad job (also a restaurant manager) and went to waiting tables.

 

She got heavily into yoga, and started to get up a group of friends. Young friends. Divorced friends.

 

I backed her on everything, knowing that there was no point in trying to control her. And she treated me well, was still loving, still appeared happy.

 

She started coming home later and later.

[Tuesday After]

So, yeah, she got a job waiting tables...I helped her study the menu and told her I'd back her in whatever she did.

 

She had only been at the job two weeks, when she started throwing out little things...geez, it's so hard to talk about...so hard to...so painful to remember. Things like, "You don't like anything." And, "We really don't like the same things."

 

I should have seen it then. I should have seen it then.

 

So, she came home pretty late one night. I rolled with it. It's the restaurant business. I amused myself. I wrote the first song that I have written in...geez, almost in her lifetime.

 

Then, she came home late again. And I talked to her about it. I told her it made me feel bad, and I didn't think it was appropriate. I asked her if anything was wrong, if there was anything that I should know about. She responded that this was what people her age did.

 

I rolled with that, too. I honestly responded, no, that's what alcoholics in the restaurant business do. And I'm worried about you.

 

She promised me that she would keep it to a dull roar.

 

The next two nights, she came home at 4:30 am.

 

I couldn't sleep. I was up when she came home. I got out of bed and told her angrily that I would not live like this, that something had to change. She apologized, but I wasn't having any of it. I stormed out of the bedroom and went into work ridiculously early.

 

When I got home from work, she was standing by the door.

Edited June 22, 2016 by Tuesday After

[Tuesday After]

So, that's the backstory.

 

If you've stayed with me so far, I appreciate it. I really don't want to be a boring a-hole, but I think I have a lot to say.

 

If nobody reads this, it still doesn't matter. It helps to write it.

 

I'm gonna start cutting and pasting from my diary. I'm going to try to show you as much as I can. I'm gonna try to really tell you.

Edited June 22, 2016 by Tuesday After

[Tuesday After]

"I can't believe it. I can't believe it. I can't believe this is happening again.

 

This is the third time. I can't believe I did it again.

 

I came in from work today and she was standing by the door ready to leave. I took one look at her face, and I knew that she wasn't going to be back.

 

'I'm going to my mother's,' she said. 'I need to think.'

 

I couldn't believe it. I mean, we never fight. This was actually the first real fight that I can remember. I asked her to stay, to talk. I looked at her again, and I knew it.

 

'I don't want to lose you,' I said. 'Don't go like this.'

 

She said, 'That's very controlling.'

 

What?

 

I let her go.

[Tuesday After]

I just got back. Right after she left, I had to get out of the house. I couldn't bear to stay there. I can't believe that this is happening. Again.

 

I walked the streets for hours. It's now 1:00 am. I have to go to work tomorrow. How am I going to function?

 

I walked through a sketchy part of town and two homeless guys asked me for a cigarette. They were young, pretty rough-looking, unshaven, obviously sleeping on the streets. I told them that I quit years ago and started to turn away when I suddenly burst out crying. I burst out crying in front of two homeless guys, hopeless wailing.

 

They asked me what's wrong and I barely got it out. I'm losing my wife. I think I'm losing my wife.

 

They both came up next to me and hugged me. Then one of them began to pray. It made me cry more.

 

After awhile, I calmed down. I thanked them and walked away.

 

I checked to make sure I still had my wallet.

[Tuesday After]

I am not going to call her. I am not going to text her. It is killing me, but there is no point. What am I going to do, talk her out of it?

 

All I do is cry and make retching sounds. I feel pathetic, but I can't do anything. I can't eat and I can't sleep. I haven't eaten anything in three days and I think I've gotten maybe 3-4 hours total sleep. As sad as I was when my other two relationships failed, I was at least able to eat and sleep. I never believed people when they said that they got this upset.

 

I can't wait to get out of the house, so I walk. Then I can't stand walking and I want to get back to the house. Then I run to work to escape, then I can't concentrate and I want to get home. And it goes around and around.

 

I feel like I am in a nightmare, all foggy and unreal. I must be walking around like a zombie. At work, I keep running downstairs to dry storage when I can no longer hold in that hideous retching that wants to explode out of my guts.

 

It is almost impossible to work, but I need this job. We are in the middle of a crucial menu overhaul and I have to keep reminding myself that I am (very unfairly) in dutch with this job already.

 

Great timing, baby. You screwed me over at the worst possible time.

Edited June 22, 2016 by Tuesday After

[Tuesday After]

She texted me last night. Said she's still thinking and she'll call me in a day or two. This is torture. I keep telling myself that it's done. Man up and start accepting it as soon as possible.

[Tuesday After]

She had gotten us bikes for Christmas. We rode a few times, but it never really took. I'm really grateful for the bike now. I rode 6 miles today.

 

I am in shock. I can't get my mind around this. I cannot believe it. I alternate between crying like a baby and total disbelief in reality.

 

I have not contacted her. She texted me today, thanking me for giving her her space and saying that she would be by tomorrow to talk.

 

My brain knows it's done but I texted her back asking her to consider couples therapy before she came tomorrow.

 

No response, but it made me feel a little better to put it out there. Right now I'll do just about anything to feel better.

[Tuesday After]

It's Sunday. I rode my bike all the way downtown and back. Almost 20 miles.

 

She was sitting on the couch when I got back.

 

I can't remember everything...it's a dreamlike blur.

 

Something about her father dying really shaking her up and realising that there was a lot that she wanted to do and life is short and the age difference was starting to really bother her and she wants to go to India for 3 months and she probably wants to have a family someday.

 

I started to sob and I choked it back. I looked into her eyes...huge, round, blue. Dry. Dead.

 

I held her hand for a minute and said that I understood. I said I'd give her an hour to get some stuff and leave. She hugged me and it was like holding a mannequin.

 

I was able to hold my emotions until I was back on my bike then I cried until that sense of unreal numbness washed over me and I turned back into a zombie.

 

When I got back to the house it felt so much more than empty.

[Tuesday After]

I was able to eat a piece of pizza today. Junk food is going to be the key for awhile.

 

I lost 12 pounds. I was lean to begin with. It's nice to see my abs, but it's not so great to see my skeleton. People at work are taking the long way around when they see me coming.

 

I have called 10 psychologists and psychiatrists. Not one answered. I left messages and only one out of the 10 called me back. And he was actually kinda weird and rude. After thinking about it, I called back and cancelled. His voice mail was a little weird as well.

 

I still can't get my mind around this. A few nights ago, we were binge watching Boardwalk Empire, having cocktails, laughing and holding each other in bed.

 

She had to have met someone. Keep that in mind. It's the only thing that makes sense.

 

Keep repeating that to yourself when you're fantasizing about her coming back home.

Edited June 22, 2016 by Tuesday After

[Tuesday After]

Ok, a week has passed. No point in writing. I couldn't write anyway. I could barely function. And what am I gonna say? I only cried ten times today? I only rolled myself up into a fetal ball once or twice on the floor of dry storage?

 

I know I'm a mess. But I'm showing up at work, the new menu is looking good. I lost one cook and I'm about to lose another, so I'm in the kitchen again and I'm scrambling to hire. I feel like everything is falling apart.

 

She called. She wants a divorce. We agreed to try to work things out without lawyers or mediators. I told her fine. I don't want it but I won't contest it. Just let's make it fast because I can't afford to hold onto her and I want to be able to be through this as soon as possible and get on with my life. I broke down a little, but I got it all out and I didn't plead and I didn't beg. I was not able to hold in the sadness, but I didn't lose it.

 

You're so full of sh#t, man. You still think she's coming home. You are insane.

[Tuesday After]

Sunday again.

 

My blood pressure is 190/100.

 

I am going to the doctor tomorrow and asking him to try antidepressants again.

 

I can't explain the despair. How you can hurt so weirdly with nothing physical being wrong, that empty, scooped out feeling.

 

I tried going to church. I spoke to a priest. I prayed in the garden behind the vestibule. I went to a mini prayer meeting and had a nice woman hold me and pray for me. I rode my bike almost 20 miles again, downtown and back.

 

But the only thing that really helps is packing my tablet in my bike bag, riding to this Mexican place that has no particular memories, having a couple of margaritas and chips and salsa and reading the posts on this forum that I found, Loveshack. I sit in the bar and mentally commiserate with strangers.

 

I get a little peace, I go home, make some pizza and vegetables and am able to finally watch tv again. I am so grateful for a little peace. It doesn't last, but I'll take what I can.

 

[---The following is part of my diary. I am nobody but some poor slob who has all kinds of issues. And no friends.

 

My wife was all I had. I'm not telling anybody what's right or wrong. I'm just trying to be honest and tell you stuff------]

 

I have drank off and on throughout my life, never irresponsibly, but quite consistently. No drama, no histrionics, no hangovers, no puking. Total self medication. No one has ever seen me drunk and my wife always said she wouldn't even know I was drinking if she didn't see it.

 

But I feel better. The world tells me that this is not good, so I try to take that into consideration.

 

But you know what? Buspar, Serzone Wellbutrin, Prozac, and Zoloft. 9 years of therapy once, sometimes twice a week, religiously.

 

Twenty dollars worth of liquor beats it all, hands down.

[Tuesday After]

I woke up with a melody in my head...part of a song I seem to have been writing in my sleep. That has only happened once before to me, a long time ago.

 

So I was able to begin another song. I started fleshing out the rest of the melody and finding the chords. No words are coming to mind yet. It's a great feeling. This will absorb me for a few days. I'm very grateful for a little peace.

[Tuesday After]

I went to the doctor today.

 

I couldn't even get the words out. I just kept stuttering 'my wife lef...my wife lef.....my...'

 

He had to finish it for me.

 

He put me on 150 mg Effexor...Supposed to be for treatment-resistant depression.

 

I feel pathetic for breaking down like that. But I need help.

 

I checked my penis at the reception desk and went home and cried like a little girl.

[Tuesday After]

I took all the pictures down, piled them up with some of her other stuff, put it in the guest room and shut the door. How am I supposed to look at our wedding pictures? What a waste. What a shame. What a shame.

 

We spoke again. All cold, all business. How unreal it is to hear the voice that called out your name when you were intimate, how bizarre it is to hear that voice go cold, robotic, distant.

 

She's already in Southeast Asia, man. You will be ancient history, she will have to struggle to recall your face, and she won't even be forty years old.

 

She's basically going to take anything she paid for. We kept separate bank accounts and had our own cars. No children. I have a lot to be thankful for.

 

I will buy her out from the house. I just got off the phone an hour ago and I ran to the Wells Fargo down the block and already applied for a home equity loan.

 

I'm doing everything I can. I still feel miserable.

[Tuesday After]

I remembered something today.

 

Over eight years ago.

 

When I was at the restaurant where we met, I confided in a customer that I became friendly with. It was after hours and we were just hanging out with the door locked, drinking and shooting the sh#t. I told him about her and me. He got all salacious and crap, falling all over himself, practically drooling, congratulating me and asking for all the details.

 

I told him no man, no. You got it all wrong. I love her. I haven't even slept with her yet. This is the real deal.

 

He suddenly got serious and a little sad.

 

"You poor guy," he said. "You poor guy."

Edited June 22, 2016 by Tuesday After

[Tuesday After]

I think I figured out something and it's not good.

 

From the moment this started, all I was doing was calculating the best way to get her back.

 

As I read more of the stuff on the forum, I realize that I was instinctively doing a lot of the stuff people recommend. The only chance at getting someone back is letting them go. I'm just playing a game, acting like I'm pushing her out as fast as possible. Here's your hat, what's your hurry?

 

You're not doing a good job, you're just calculating...you're still thinking that the music is gonna swell and the girl is gonna rush back into your arms.

 

You are a pathetic sap.

 

The problem is that my brain knows there's no chance. But I know myself. I'm gonna hold on at every stage. I'm gonna hang on and hang on by the skin of my teeth, hoping at every turn, while trying to play this stupid macho game that no girl who knew anything about her man would ever believe. I'm gonna hold on until I fall in love with someone else. And then I'm still gonna slip and call her by my ex-wife's name.

 

That's why I'm trying antidepressants again. I'm afraid that when the penny finally drops, I'll really crack up and that will make this pain look like a day at the beach.

[Tuesday After]

I called twelve more shrinks from my Aetna network. One called me back. One out of twelve. What is it with these guys?

 

I have an appointment Thursday.

[Tuesday After]

I finished the song. I really like it, but who knows?

 

The shrink was a bust. He wasted the first fifteen minutes of the session on the phone with my insurance company making sure he was going to get paid. What an a-hole. The rest of the session was not much better. I certainly didn't feel anything but disillusionment afterwards. I told him I probably wouldn't be back. I lied. I definitely won't be back.

[Tuesday After]

I've been sleeping 3-4 hours, but the past couple of nights I woke up around 3 am yelling and crying.

 

This is what happens when you have no friends and no life. This is what happens when you lose yourself.

 

This is what happens when your world is your spouse.

 

I've been here twice before and I still couldn't change. I repeat the same pattern over and over.

 

I seem to keep coming back to the fact that I figure I'm a loner. I like people ok, I guess, but I never find many who interest me that much.

 

It's stupid when you're hanging out with a bunch of people and all you're thinking about is how you'd rather be home reading.

[Tuesday After]

I have to be honest...I can't get too down on myself. I forgot...I played this differently the last time.

 

When I lost my second relationship, I went right into survival mode.

 

I got a job tending bar in one of the hotter places in town. I was surrounded by people. I partied, I drank, I smoked, we did drugs. I went out almost every night.

 

Then I stopped partying, stopped drinking, quit smoking. I stayed home.

 

I picked up a girl in a convenience store a month after my partner left. I couldn't bear to sleep with her, but we became friends.

 

I got involved in martial arts and was at the dojo four nights a week for more than 2 years. I met an unhappily married woman there who was in the middle of a separation and kept coming on to me. It was flattering and I got close to having a thing with her, but I felt too guilty. We became friends.

 

I had nine months of therapy and meds on my insurance and I used up every day of it.

 

Then I went back to partying and smoking. Then I quit again.

 

And I'm telling you from my heart. In the long run, none of it made any damn bit of difference. None of the friends I met turned out to be anything meaningful. I still went home and cried almost every night.

 

I kept a diary for more than four years and I never got over her. It was ten years before I found my wife.

 

And now she's gone.