I thought things were looking up, but now I’m watching a familiar scene, as all my dreams are slowly shattered. The pieces fall like sand between my fingers, fragments of the might-have-beens. I wish it were just myself affected, but I know it’s always something more. All I want is a bit of stability, but it’s nowhere to be found.

At times like this, I hate him more.  I hate him for all that he was and all that he wasn’t.  I hate him for not being what I needed.  I hate him for leaving me in this predicament.  I hate that if I’d never met him at all, my life would have continued along a better path.  I hate that all the choices I made that led me to this particular hell were made based on the greater good of my family.  I hate the irony of those very same choices being the things that have me in this hell where I can’t take care of my family without him.  Most of all, I hate that I can’t truly blame this on him, because the choices were mine to make, most especially the choices I made leading up to our marriage.  At any point, I could have made better choices, and would not have been stuck here like I am today.


I knew divorce would change my life, but I wasn’t sure exactly how it would happen.  I prepared for the worst, but hoped for the best.  I never counted on being stuck.  It literally feels like my life has come to a complete stand still.  We can never go back, we can only move forward–that’s what I was told.  Nobody prepared me for being stuck.

Just enough to get by, and nothing more.  I keep looking for a way to move this along in a positive direction, but I’m finding nothing.  Every plan I make falls apart.  The only options left are to remain stuck, or make a choice for the worse in the hopes of giving things a kick start.  I try to plan my priorities, but nothing makes sense anymore.