Krakatoa on the Inside…An Ode to the Death of My Marriage

I have been seething about the divorce for a long time. First I spent from June to September of last year in deep mourning over the death of my marriage. I cried, and cried and cried some more. I hate crying but I couldn’t help myself, nor could I stop.

The sorry SOB I divorced didn’t care or give two shits because he was in the throes of his new romance with another married woman, and trying to hide what he didn’t know I already knew about occupied all his time, so he didn’t notice my depression. My two kids did and they mourned with me.

When the sorry son of a bitch got served the divorce papers he cried. Like a little bitch he cried and felt sorry for himself and the failure he had become… Or so he said. I would have liked to believe he actually felt those things, but after 14yrs, I knew better than to believe he had a heart, or feelings, or even a conscience.

Nope, it was all part of his great manipulation. He begged me to stay, to go to counseling with him, to save our marriage. I stupidly agreed, mostly because I wanted to be able to tell my kids later, with absolute certainty: I tried, I really did, but there was just no saving this marriage. And there wasn’t.

Not two months later after the reconciliation, he was back with the other woman, and I was done. Fortunately I only put my divorce proceedings on pause, so thanks to his delay, instead of having to go to court to prove his adultery and possibly have to deal with an attempt to counter my evidence from his bitch and her lawyers, I got to file for a default judgement and was divorced at the beginning of March.

Unfortunately thanks to the evidence of his return to infidelity, I was pissed and depressed again. More crying…

I sought counseling at the beginning of January because I felt like I was losing my mind. This second time around the adultery carousel he knew that I knew about him and the other woman cavorting together while he was at work. This time it was worse because he was openly fucking another woman at work, and then coming home like this is totally normal. I had to suffer this insult for five months in silence. I wanted to rage and tear his eyes out, but had to remain silent.

Why? So I could gain his compliance, have him sign paperwork for custody and support that would be in my favor. I wouldn’t have gotten the terms I wanted had I gone Pompeii on his ass like I really wanted to. I had to wear a fake face to gain my freedom and I died a little on the inside every day.

I wanted to hurt him like he had hurt me. I wanted him to know how much I hated him and how I would never forget and likely never forgive him for his duplicity, his lack of loyalty and worse, the 14yrs of emotional and physical abuse.

I wake up on days like today, wanting to celebrate, but it’s like I won a race no one knew I was running. I divorced and escaped a man who lied to me every day we were together. Who apparently had it coded in his DNA to be an asshole as a husband and a total LOSER as a father.

I thought my father was the worst man of my acquaintance. I was wrong. Instead I married and had children with the absolute worst man alive. I am his second ex-wife. The first one got a clue and ran away within a few years. I was apparently more stupid, tenacious and stubborn, and clung to this relationship, determined not to lose my marriage. I did this for over thirteen years.

I want to scream because I feel like a fool. I want to scream because I feel used and abused. I want to scream because unless I want to create an irreparable rift between me and the children I fought so hard to protect, I can’t complain to them or around them about their bastard of a father.

I want to scream because I wasted seven years raising his other son for him and I’m the one who gets NO CREDIT for it. I had to fight to raise his son into the halfway decent human being he turned into and do I get any thanks for being an awesome step-mom? NO!! This is bullshit and it’s completely UNFAIR!!

Aaarrgh!! I had to stop going to counseling because I moved over 1400 miles to escape this asshole and keep my children safe from his mind-fucking ways. But eventually I have to go back into counseling if I can afford it. I have thirteen years of abuse and damage to process through and know absolutely no one qualified to help me through it.

I am seething like Krakatoa on the inside. I am ready to erupt at any moment and I know that when I do it will be epic, but in a bad way, and the object and true recipient of my rage is clueless and pleased with his nasty self in New Jersey. I hope he gets an incurable disease and dies. Or better yet, her husband loses his marbles and kills him in a fit of rage. That would be fine with me (thought that isn’t going to happen cause he’s a real wimp).

Until then… My magma core is boiling away and waiting to erupt. It’s taking every ounce of my being to suppress the rage from erupting in the face of the only ones who don’t deserve it: my children.

Being a divorced mom is hard. I just wish I had done this eight years ago.