We started dating sometime in August 2008. A month or two later we realized we didn’t really remember when when started dating, so we didn’t have an official anniversary. We knew it was mid-August, so we picked a date: August 14. Two years later we got married on August 14, 2010. Seven years after that you moved out of the house on August 14, 2017. We filed for divorce two months later.
I don’t know when you gave up on our marriage, but I realize now you were done by the time you told me that things had gone wrong. While I was still trying to fix it, I poured my heart out to you – twice – through emails. Neither of which you responded to until I asked you directly about them. Then you simply told me you were glad I was able to express my feelings.
I’ve thought about doing that again, as our anniversary has approached. Writing you a long letter and emailing it to you. But I know there’s no point. It won’t change anything. It won’t change you, or what happened to us. Hell, I still don’t really know what happened to us. I’m working on becoming okay with that. But like you so gracefully put it, expressing my feelings is very therapeutic. So here I go, writing a blog post for the entire world to read.
You’ve taught me a lot over the past decade. Our relationship, and the ending of it, helped transform me into the person I am today. I’m thankful for you because of that – even moreso because of Wade. You were my very best friend in the entire world. The only person I’ve ever felt truly understood me, and loved me for who I was. And then it turns out you didn’t. So now I have all sorts of trust issues – thanks for that, too, I guess.
I made a very concentrated effort to not attack you or act on my feelings of hurt and anger over the several months that our marriage devolved and we navigated through the divorce process. At first I was hopeful that you’d change your mind, and by the end I just wanted to behave in a way that I wouldn’t be ashamed of in later years. People tell me that I’m mature because of this, but really I think it’s just part of my insecurities and hatred of confrontation. Is it too late to key your car and set your clothes on fire? Probably. Forget I asked.
Even now, when I’m nearly 400 words into this letter, I find myself struggling to express my feelings about this entire experience. The hurt, the anger, the betrayal… I don’t understand what happened to you, to us, to our life together. Sometimes I feel like a broken record, saying the same things over and over and over – to friends, to family, to my therapist, to the internet at large… I guess I keep hoping that at some point I’ll finally say it enough times, or say it the right way, and that will release me from this persistent, annoying…wondering.
Anyway – long story short, I wanted to tell you something on this most arbitrary-but-symbolic of days: