When it hits you that you are not over him.

The last 2 days have been extremely emotional for me. I saw my husband – actually ex (I really must get used to thinking of him as my ex and not husband anymore) on Monday. It was a brief meeting. We had to exchange stuff and therefore had to see each other. He had to return the dowry my parents gave me, because he demanded the jewellery that he had given me (including all gifts) back from me. I didn’t want the gifts I gave him back. But this isn’t about the exchange itself.

Seeing your husband after over 6 months, knowing that you will never see him again, is an indescribable experience. It hits you like a ton of bricks. In the worst possible kind of way that a ton of bricks can hit you. It is such an unreal experience. There he was. Standing in front of me. Someone who 6 months ago was closer to me than anyone could be. And who now stood a mere 10 feet away and could not feel more distant.

In the six months that we had been separated, in the six months that he had made my life more miserable than I would have thought possible, I had managed to convince myself that I was over him. I had managed to convince myself that the love that I had felt for him very strongly at one point in time was gone. It wasn’t that I had convinced myself that I hated him. No, just that I felt nothing towards him. I was indifferent. The second I saw him, the realisation hit me that this was not so.

Love, unfortunately, is not a switch that you can just turn off. It doesn’t work that way. Not even when the man you love had a family that wanted to give Shaitaan a run for his money. Not even when you know that the man you love had a huge problem that just could not be ignored. No, getting over someone takes a long time. And six months simply were not enough.

What made seeing OH even worse was probably that I now know that I will never see him again. This was it. Our last meeting. Where we barely even spoke with each other. I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye properly. To my home. To my life with him. And now I won’t. Everything that was familiar to me is gone for good. There is something very heart wrenching about this thought. I wouldn’t ever want my enemy to feel this way. Movies and books are right – it almost does feel like someone reached in and pulled your heart right out.

I know I have not talked about the true reason behind my divorce yet. The reason why even though I never wanted a divorce because I loved my husband that much, I am the one pursuing the divorce now. But I feel that is a topic I must talk about now. And I will in my next post. Until then…..


Cogito, Ergo Doleo

[This is a post I actually wrote a couple of weeks ago, and I just decided to type it up as well.]

Do you ever wish you could just stop thinking? Not just about bad things but about good ones as well? I do.

In fact, I’ve discovered that thinking may just be one of the nastiest side effects of my divorce. Especially given that I do have pretty good memory and can recall things that have happened with me in quite some detail…

Every marriage has good moments, even those that end in divorce. Every husband compliments his wife sometime, even those that choose to leave their wives (my guess is they didn’t sincerely mean those compliments, or chose to forget the good in their wives – who knows). My marriage and ex were no exception. I had some wonderful moments in my short marriage. I actually had a lot of wonderful moments. Looking back I do realise that those moments had to do with more effort on my part, not my ex, but I digress.

I remember times in my marriage when I felt really happy. When I would make my husband laugh and he would make me laugh. When I would receive plenty of compliments from my husband. That too very regularly. And remembering that hurts.

As I mentioned in a previous post, my ex has been making what has already become a nasty divorce even nastier. The amount of stress and emotional exhaustion he has been causing for me for the past 6 months is ridiculous. I try to deal with it as best I can. Actually, I think I am dealing rather well with the nasty bits.

The part that is more difficult is my thoughts. Because every time he pulls some nasty stunt, I don’t just see him as the jerk he is being. I think back to the wonderful man I thought I married. The one, who claimed to love me the more than anyone else in the world, who was worried sick himself when I was ill, to the point that he rushed home from work mid-day because I didn’t pick up his call (I was in the shower). The man who complimented me every step of the way, not just to myself directly, but to my family. And these thoughts torture me, because I try to figure out who the real OH is. The man I was married to for a year and a half. Or the one I am now divorcing. Somehow I feel this one is the real deal… And I just never knew who he is.

I think, therefore I suffer.