I am 37 years old with two small children and I am nearing the end of my divorce proceedings. This has been a long and arduous process. No one would ever even consider it if they knew the heartache and pain involved. I'm emotionally exhausted. I've have had to defend my actions constantly when all I was doing was protecting my children.
I thought this would be done by May. I hoped it would be finished by August. It is now October and I am still here, waiting for the final divorce papers to be signed.
My husband wants the house. He grew up in it and with the exception of college and a few months after, he's lived there all his life. It is a beautiful 4 bedroom farm house with tons of windows and skylights on over 2 acres of land. I hate it. It is cursed. You don't have to believe me, but it's true. His parents went through a nasty divorce while living in that house. My husband's childhood was tumultuous on a good day. He had 3 brothers and a sister and they all lived in chaos most of the time. I felt bad for him.
I guess I thought he was better than this. I ignore the signs, the tantrums, the name calling, throwing and breaking things, the shoving. I chalked it up to alcohol induced single life. I told myself it was temporary. I moved into the house he grew up in after 4 years of dating. We got married and had two kids. Things slowly got worse. His tantrums became more frequent. As the kids grew older, they were affected more and more. They are good kids. I could't ruin them by staying any more than a divorce will.
Oh, god, I worry about how they will turn out. They seem fairly well adjusted, so far. I just don't know. They don't deserve this. They deserve a sane dad that doesn't use them to get back at me and have anger issues and control issues and paranoia issues and, well, major narcissistic issues.
I'm broken. I'm lost. I'm empty inside. I struggle every day to stay positive and happy for them. My number ones. I fight every day. I'm so tired of fighting.
