bittersweet

March 18th, 2008, 11 and a half months after I found out that I was married to a cheating bastard, my divorce was final.Mark did physically walk out on us a few weeks after I found out he was cheating. When he left, he took all of our money, drained our accounts and hadn't paid the rent or anything else in months. SO, that year was so turbulent. On top of having to move twice, the ups and downs of that year were like a roller coaster. I had to have shoulder surgery and my right arm was useless and very painful for several months,and the emotional trauma, well that was the worst. Mark never had to grieve the way that the kids and I did and well, still are three years later. Mark was over me, before I even knew what hit and he will never3r know the pain that he caused me and the kids. Throughout that year, Mark would not pay support, skip out on visitation, and be an all around jerk over just about anything and everything, as if cheating on me and abandoning our family were not enough. He spent most of his time in Mississippi with his girlfriend (not seeing the kids much), while the kids and I were here, dealing with all of our pain.Then a few months before the divorce was final, Mark had his girlfriend Melanie move in with him and his parents. They lived there until a few days after the divorce was finalized and then he left the kids,again to be with her.
We were left to grieve and hurt, we were deserted. I will never forget the looks on my children's faces when the said goodbye to their father-and yet I don't even think that he noticed.
A divorce, is a death. Maybe not physical, but in every other way, a death. I lost my husband, and part of my identity. I lost my financial security, my health insurance, my safe place, the arms that held me, I lost a part of my heart. My kids did too,they lost their daddy. They also lost a part of me. During that first year, I was a mess. I lost 70 pounds (which is good), I started drinking, and I became emotionally detached from everyone including my kids. I couldn't bare their pain, and mine anymore, so I pretended that it wasn't there. I stopped eating and started dating (way too early), started drinking, and on a positive note, I started school.
I did not know who I was anymore. The person I used to be was dead, she walked out with my husband, and died with my marriage. My world had ended and I thought that I would never recover. I though wrong. We certainly have had it rough, but over time I began to realize that walking out on me was the best thing that my cehating sob exhusband ever could have done for us. It was all very bittersweet.