My marriage is over and I am heartbroken. I am heartbroken but I am not sorry.
I am heartbroken because I committed to it with all my heart for the rest of my life. But I am not sorry that it is over.
For over a decade, we rode those waves with high hopes and (speaking for myself) great determination.
We have two gorgeous kids, I wanted more but he did not and I stomached it. I loved and I prefer to be happy.
We had unending challenge but I chose to think of all the other good things we had. And there were many. I prefer to be happy.
Twice I dug my heels in and said, “Beyond this place I CAN NOT go, unless choices are made and changes come.” But both times I gave in – because I loved, and I prefer to be happy.
In the end there was no marriage left to save. There was nothing to do but sweep up the glass. And it is heartbreaking.
But divorce causes you to think. To think hard. I myself am no walk in the park. I have tremendous faults like everyone else: I fail to communicate; I assume parity; I hold my breath and then explode. I “prefer to be happy.”
However, what happiness is that, truly? Suppressing my heart to control a marriage working? I rescued the other without rescuing myself, so that’s on me. I denied me the vows that were made and I reaped that choice. I didn’t want it to stop so I kept on going. So who is really responsible? Certainly both of us.
Being a divorced mother is a sad thing. It’s awful. I cannot be chirpy about it, but I can grasp the reality of it. And here’s the thing: it takes one person to divorce, but it takes two to marry. And I chose my marriage. I chose it.
Had I said, “No!” a long time ago, could I have changed the course of our river? Maybe. But who knows? There are so many unknowns and the what ifs will kill you if you don’t kill them first.
So, here I am. After everything I am heartbroken. But I am not sorry.
Because even though I am not sorry that the marriage is over, I am also not sorry that we married in the first place. I loved greatly. And I would not lose those years, those memories, that laughter, that growth, those children and, so often, real joy.
I refuse to be sorry for any of it: simply because it did not survive in the end.
jsg/oct14
Bash On Regardless 
“I denied me the vows I had made”… powerful thought.
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Beautifully written. I’m here for you, my friend. Xo
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I’ve been recently plagued by circumstances around the ending of my 8 year relationship. Even though it ended over a decade ago. I was very sick at that time. And I was no longer in love with my partner. Confused I thought that ending the relationship was for the best.
I always prided myself in having a dedicated partner who affirmed his love daily. And I
believed him. Cuz I do that. Believe what people tell me.
I’m an insecure person. Foundations of friends, love etc. was who I was.
Now i greatly puzzled that after being
together over 8 years, that after that heart
wrenching conversation in our living room
that day, we would never speak again. Only a
few emails over the past 12 years. I was never asked to reconcile. I was never asked
anything.
So today I’m still heartbroken over the ending of my relationship. But I’m no longer sorry. I did my best to act honorably and respectfully in those difficult times. I was afforded neither.
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Josie… You are a brilliant, soulful and profound writer… I appreciate your article immensely and I look forward to your next offering… Major kudos to you!
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I had a totally different kind of problem marriage and a totally different kind of ending. But I still feel kinship in the force and depth of what you’re saying. Similar currents run through our different courses. If you ever want a chat or a coffee or a not-chat/great play/just breathe, let me know.xoxo
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I feel your pain. This is very good writing however. Write a book. Get it all out. These life changes, these sudden derailments are the stuff of our undoing and our doing. Losing an in-group; married people, can also be the loss that one mourns. But you are in many other in-groups, mother, christian, blogger, artist, friend and clearly writer. Be kind to yourself. Get a massage. Go on a retreat. Do some yoga. Society makes no room for mourning and just carrying on is sometimes detrimental, I feel. It is a short-term survival strategy that works for a limited time. We should all walk around with bands on our arms when someone dies, for example, that was a good idea. People knew to treat you tenderly, to not ask too much, to not tell bad jokes. Anyway, my thoughts are with you and keep on going. Let me know if you want to go for a coffee sometime and talk.
Love, Amanda (Peppe)
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