Divorce

Perhaps I should explain. (Or perhaps not).

A few months ago, I went looking for my happy place. I changed my hair. I started exercising. But, in the end, it was all bullsh*t.

Because my happy place is wherever my husband (H) isn't.

He has grown to hate me, over the years. Not a red-hot florid hate that all can see, but a soft delicate pink of a hate that seeps and sinks into everything until... until. Until I hate myself, more than I thought possible. And nothing that I can do can ease that ache.

But then. Because there always is a "but then" with these stories, isn't there?

But then I met people and made friends. And I wish - I dearly wish - I could throw in a line such as "I met someone new and fell in love."  But I met people. And I made friends. And I made new connections with people who didn't hate me.

And I should add - I am the most awkward person on the planet. No, seriously. I don't meet people. I don't make friends. H has consistently chided and mocked me for this. He has, in the past, introduced me saying, "this is Nica and she has no friends." (Awesome, right?) So the fact that I had people, someone in my life who saw me, liked me and with whom I connected - that was huge. That is huge.

And I asked for a divorce.

Hell, I more than asked. I filed the paperwork.

(Wow).

Now I need to write up the divorce agreement. Which is stupidly hard to do and I find myself avoiding. But I have to do it. (I KNOW). And I wish - I dearly wish - I could throw in a line such as "and now I am happy." But I'm not. Yet. But I know - I truly know - that this is the right thing to do.

And. By the way?

It's my birthday.