The End.

Authoress, ptsd, rapid-cycle bipolar disorder

There are some topics that I find too personal to discuss on here (which seems ironic, given all the things I’ve written about), but this one’s important even though it’s still raw and very painful.

About a month ago, my husband sat me down and told me he was tired of working on our marriage. He had fallen completely out of love with me and had begun feeling that way two years ago. His rationale for not telling me was that it was painful for him and he wanted to figure it out himself before saying anything.

Naturally, I was pissed. If I’d known sooner, we could’ve had a shot at reconciling, or at least I wouldn’t have had the bomb dropped on me so late in the game. The delay is the hardest part because it feels like the worst possible betrayal. In the beginning, it hurt more than the realization that I had been raped in a previous relationship. It hurt worse than decades of verbal, emotional, and occasionally, physical abuse at the hands of various people. And it happened the day I received the offer for my current job (a temp position as an administrative assistant).

At this point, I’m not sure where to go. We’re living together as friends and it’s mostly working out, but I still cry almost every day. I’ve lost my passion for pretty much everything; my goal of returning to school and eventually earning a master’s degree in counseling seems impossibly far off, and the fiction project I had been so excited to work on has fallen by the wayside.

Most of all, I feel stupid. I feel stupid for not detecting his feelings. I feel stupid for wanting a family, a spouse, a stable home life. I feel like those things aren’t possible for someone like me because I’m so sick and damaged. Rationally speaking, I know that these thoughts are bullshit, but I’ve found that thoughts and feelings rarely match up.

I feel like sick and damaged people only fit with other sick and damaged people, and I know from experience that those relationships can be pretty unhealthy. I feel like anyone “normal” is going to be repelled by me, that they’ll become sick of the melancholy and the moods and the chronic physical illness just like D. did. I feel like a huge energy drain, but at the same time, I am indignant.

This is irrational and unfair, but I feel like anyone who gets tired of being exposed to my illnesses is a little weak. Try living a day, just one day, in this body, and then tell me how difficult it is for you to be on the outside looking in. But I also know that loving someone who’s in so much pain, especially when the pain is emotional as well as physical, can be trying and depressing and just hard at the end of the day.

D. thinks he knows best and is recommending as much distance as possible to help me get over it/him, but that just makes me feel abandoned (something I’ve expressed to him). It’s hard for me because he’s had two years to process and I was just told a month ago that my relationship of six years (marriage of almost-four; our anniversary would have been this December) is over, and I had no say in the matter at all.

I’ve been through worse, and that’s precisely why I’m beating myself up for having such a hard time with this. I’d appreciate some tips for healing; I feel like you guys “know” me well enough at this point to offer some helpful, heartfelt advice. And, as always, I appreciate all of you.

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