Today marks 3 years since I first found about my WS's LTA. Current status is that we're slooooowly working toward a divorce, and I live separately for most of the week. Most nearby friends and immediate family are now aware that we're divorcing, but only a few know why.
On most days, the thought of getting divorced brings me a great sense of relief, but today and last Sunday (our wedding anniversary) have mostly brought grief. Grief that this is how 30 years of partnership is ending. Grief that, at 50 years old, it's too late to have a "do over" of my life and a real life-long love with someone. Grief that my heart still feels numb and empty when I think about that kind of thing.
WS has unleashed his true self over the past couple months - diving headfirst into his latest hobby, making new friends, staying out late to drink and smoke cigars, spending way more than I'm comfortable with. It all serves to convince me that I'm making the right choice in leaving him. He tried hard to moderate his tendencies for a few months after I told him I'm moving out in an attempt to win me back, but I suspected it wouldn't last.
I know it's his business now, and it really shouldn't bother me, but it does add fuel to grieving. To see how I supported his hobbies, kept his worst tendencies in check, helped him build a nest egg, and more - and yet, he decided (twice!) that he was in love with someone else. I'm not sure I'll ever stop feeling brokenhearted about it.
The wounds run deep. I had a one-and-done attitude about marriage. I was raised to believe that conflicts can be worked out, but even my parents say what he did is a bridge too far.
Today, I'm feeling raw. Tomorrow, hopefully the scabs will be back, but today, it really hurts.
