No one ever imagines, when they get married, that they will get divorced one day. Especially not after only four short years. I was still getting used to being married, and working, always to elevate my husband, Gino, and myself out of the financial mire we had been stuck in, when he told me, voice thick with mucousy tears, that he didn't love me. I am 29, and I am single again, I thought. I am unloved by the one person I thought I could trust and depend on no matter the circumstances. I had actually joked with him just a few months earlier, while in the midst of a rare misunderstanding with my best friend, that the cliche about friendships enduring through all hardships and romantic relationships being unstable was not true for me, as I had more communication issues with the people who were supposed to be my best friends than I did with the best friend I was also married to. Gino had agreed with me, oddly, and added that he had the same difficulty because he could never spend time with his two best friends, one of whom was in New Hampshire, and the other of whom had a wife and child to occupy most of his time, but that I was always there for him. It seemed he had either lost his faith in those truths in the span of only a few months, or else he had been lying to me in an effort to not hurt me. All he managed to do by being kind was delay being cruel, and it hurt exponentially more to hear that he did not want to be married six years after we got engaged than it would have to hear it then, before we were legally bound to each other yet.
I am hoping that this does not become a forum for whining, for pity, or for me to demonize my soon-to-be-ex-husband. I still love him, after all, so why would I want to besmirch him? What I am hoping to do is blog my experience as a newly separated person. My divorce is somewhat unique, after all: we have no children, no assets to divide, no money at all, actually. We did not own a home and we had only one car, which I purchased before we got married. It is going to be as cut-and-dried as a separation can possibly be, except for the fact that I don't want a divorce at all. I am letting him have his way, and I am not fighting him because I know it will not help anything. We will only end up back here, even less happy than when we started this process.
It has been roughly four weeks since Gino told me that he does not love me and that he wants a divorce. A few things have happened in those four weeks. Time has become elastic- hours will go by like minutes and then drag. Something that happened a few days ago feels as though it happened months ago, and I have to keep checking the date to make sure I am not losing my mind. I have become quieter, less anxious to open my mouth and say anything, shy once more because I am afraid of running people off with too much personal information. I tend to overshare, so my only defense is to not really say anything if I can help it. A select few people are stuck listening to me, however. My best friend, who I called sobbing when Gino told me this and then had to ask if I could live with, is the rock I am trying not to cling to, but use as an emergency buoy if I feel like I might drown. My other best friend, Najwa, who lets me ramble for hours while she feeds her baby and only asks that I help her cook or watch How I Met Your Mother with her. My work friends, Christina, Matt, and Peg, are also subject to my prattling on about my marriage, but I have less trouble keeping the self-involved chatter to a minimum when I am bored, and my job is not overly stimulating.
My family is, as always, proving to be the element that keeps me from the self-pity, the self-blame, and the self-harm I would have resorted to if this had happened to a younger, less stable me. My father, a veteran of two divorces, calls at least three times a week to talk, and to let me talk. My aunt Laurie meets up with me for dinner and texts me most days with little messages of encouragement. My sister calls once or twice a week, sending help in the only way possible, through the phone all the way from Las Vegas. I have all of these people, as well as all of my satellite friends, looking out for my well-being. I am going to get through this. I kind of wish I knew when, but I can wait.