Jenton's Journal

Today would be my 32nd anniversary. Been divorced about 2+/-years.  Some good years, some good memories but the last 10 years were hell. Steve must be remembering too. He sent me an email with a picture of the two of us somewhere smiling at each other. No message, no nothing, just the photo. I was a bit surprised since the last communication I had gotten from him was a text page to call me a

bi%ch to which I did not respond. I wish things could have been different, I wish he would have went to counseling and taken antidepressants but he refused. I wish he could have understood that coming from a violent childhood I could not take even a hint of violent behavior. Screaming, shouting, breaking and throwing things sent me into shock and kept me a nervous wreck.

But in other ways he was a good man. He was a generous person. He would give anyone whatever he could that they needed. There was not a lazy bone in his body. He worked very hard. He embraced and loved my family and did more for them than probably most men would.

Sometimes when I think about the affairs and the lies and the things he said and what I let him do to me I feel like I hate him. But I know I don't hate him. I just hate what he did. I know he had a mid-life crisis. I know he was bipolar and refused to get help and I hate that. I hate how stubborn he was. But I don't really hate him. Just some days I feel like I do, I think it is just anger trying to come out though. If I did I would not have wanted to have made a pot of soup last week to send to him when Sam told me he was sick with the flu. I didn't because I don't want to send the wrong message to him. I still care. I still deep inside love him. But as some old song says, "sometimes love just ain't enough". I still can't live with him.

Even though I'm lonely I have peace and I don't feel stress like I felt living with him. I have to remind myself how I would get out of bed before he did to enjoy a few minutes of peace in the morning and the minute I heard his feet hit the floor I would tense up wondering truly which side of the bed he got up on that day and it was usually the "wrong" side and there was no way of knowing what the reason was or why. Years of this stress really took it's toll. Mentally and physically. I've read that for every 4 years you were married it takes 1 year to recover from divorce. We had been married 30 years when we divorced, I guess I have a long way to go!