This time last year my relationship was in complete turmoil. The kind that makes you obsessively contemplate, “what will make this better?” Your desperation to fix your relationship is multiplied by your desire to no longer feel…destroyed. I’m not sure if that’s a strong enough word for how it feels when the world has lost it’s shape and all things seem to be unrecognizable.
Quite literally I was crushed. Crushed beneath the weight of it all. I couldn’t crawl my way out of the pit that I had fallen into. For some reason the happiness that I could have, easily, didn’t align with the happiness that he needed. And he would not live without what happiness he desired, there was no room for compromise. But to try to figure all of this out with someone who could not process their own feelings. What is there to fix?
Somehow we carried forward. Limping. And the emotional toll was taken from my body. My physical health deteriorated quickly with a flu that was unwavering followed by a cyst in my chest. Horrible. It was as if the emotional damage was taking a physical manifestation.
Here I am again, the anniversary of it all. Divorce is final. Sickness has returned, as well as the cyst.