It's Only Make Believe

Sometimes marriage seems like a distant memory, like something that I question ever even existed.

I can distance myself from the memories for a time but they always creep back in.
Peter and I haven't been getting along lately. To me, this means that Peter isn't conquering the recovery path he claimed to be on.

But what do I know? He deceived me for 8 years.

I often tell myself this wasn't about me, that I was more than good enough for Peter but most of the time, I say it because I feel like that's what I'm supposed to say.

Do I believe it? Not really. Do I want to believe it? Yes.

Our marriage was make believe. It wasn't real. It wasn't based on trust and love and compassion. It was based on lies and anger and a shit-ton of messes.
Marriage didn't help me grow into a better person. I lost myself in marriage. I had fears that were almost unrecognizable even to myself.

He never told me it was me, that my body is the reason he left...but was it? Could it have been?
Could this recovery I keep trying to force myself into make me less lovable in the future?
I try not to believe this. I try to remember that recovery is for myself, not for anyone else. But I don't think I've ever chosen recovery for myself. It's always been for others; for friends, for family, for my children, for future relationships, for my therapist, etc. It's amazing how good I can be at pleasing others but when it comes to pleasing myself? Hmm...in my mind, the most pleasing thing for myself would be purging and exercise and skipping meals and watching as the person in the mirror gets smaller and smaller.

Peter and I got in a fight this week---not that that's abnormal. But as I sat on the phone with my mother and apologized that I was asking for her help with my children, she apologized for the position that I'm in---and there was a lump in my throat as I said, "It's ok. I'm the one who chose this mess."

Because I chose to marry Peter and have 2 children with him. I chose to sign divorce papers. I chose not to be submissive every second of every day to keep him happy.

I'm not saying that any of those choices were wrong---in fact, I think they were all good choices. But I still chose them. This is still my life. It's always going to be my life.

I feel much happier and more independent without Peter here but it still hurts. It still aches to be alone. It still sucks to rely on other people sometimes. If I could do this all alone, I would. I would do it in a heartbeat.

I often wish this wasn't my life, that Peter hadn't been an addict who left his family and flip-flops between wanting to see his kids more and complaining that he has them double the amount that he used to have them. I often wish things were different, that I was skinnier and gorgeous and had been one of those divorced women who was so amazing that she got snatched up quickly by another man who could see her worth.

But I'm not. This is my life. This has been my life for almost 2 years.

And unfortunately, it isn't going to change.