In my mind, I thought I wanted to write about how this feels. We're done, except for dividing up the property and walking away, never to see each other again except at our kids' weddings, I suppose. I wondered how that realization would feel.
In this process, I've admitted to the mistakes I've made, only to get back agreement that I made mistakes and no parallel offering from him. I've begged. I've sobbed. I've been told I was undesirable and unloveable. I've walked away. I've become stronger. I've started to glimpse way off in the future how this could turn out to be a good thing for me. I've started to feel like a little bird, standing on the edge of the nest. No, more than that. I was pushed out of the nest and damn near hit the ground. But somewhere just before disaster, I learned to fly.
And it turns out that's what I want to write about. I'm starting to think that Dave's self-esteem depended on my being nobody. And through his force-of-nature stubbornness, he made that happen. Probably subconsciously, but very effectively.
I'm loving stupid little things, like deciding what brand of laundry detergent I want, buying 2% milk instead of skim, and hanging curtains in the bedroom. (OK, Jeanine did that part.) I'm loving riding my bicycle the way I want and not having to apologize or feel "less-than". I'm loving rock climbing and not caring that I don't dyno up insane climbs.
I'm loving feeling really good at my job and like there's a visible career path again. I'm loving the feeling that I have a contribution to make.
I love that when I hang out with friends I no longer have to worry that Dave's sullenness about socializing will damage the evening. My friends and I choose each other, care for each other, forgive each other as needed, and stand together as called for. That's what friends suit up for.
Next stop: divorce. Indeed. It's still sad that this couldn't all be true with us together. But I paid too high a price for too long. It's time to fly. And you know what? I'm going to be good at that!