In full disclosure, this is my first post. I have commented on a few but this is my first one wretching my guts. On April 30th, my husband told me he wanted a divorce. Three weeks later he told me he wanted to sell our home. Neither decision had any input from me. I keep thinking that today will be better than yesterday but, as it turns out, this is a sweet little lie I tell myself when I am crying myself to sleep. Do the days actually get better? At what point does the pain reside ever so slightly.

Today the realtor came, a woman he has known for ages. She is going to sell our house. Did I imagine the googly eyes, the soft touches across the table, the sly remarks she made about knowing some secrets about him? It is entirely possible that at this point, my pain knows no bounds. I am on the soak cycle of the washing maching praying that at some point, the spin cycle has to start.

They are putting my house on the market next Sunday. Next Sunday starts my homelessness. Yes, I have a friend who will take me in. But I do not have a home, a place, to lay my daughter's head. I am not currently able to provide that until the house sells. I have to live with him until then. How is any person tough enough to do that? My strenth is wearing thin.

I have good friends, don't get me wrong, but where the fuck exactly are they? They say call me, they'll come running, but they can't and they don't and that only added to my lonliness. They have lives and families and they just can't actually be the friends they mean to be. So here I am. Alone and scared and angry and hurt and....did I mention alone.

Why doesn't he love me anymore? Nine years together, five years married, three states, endless failures and accomplishments. It was always him, always him. Who am I without him? I waited until I was 30 to get married, to be sure, and yet here I sit a complete failure. Does anyone sit at home and count all the ways the could have possibly fucked something up? I do. I question my ability to be loved. I feel like I should have a fucking biohazard symbol tattooed on my person to warn people away.

I just want to curl up and not function until this passes, until I feel like someone again. I try to focus on the good parts of being single because they must exist, right? Single people must be sitting somewhere disgruntled that anyone is stupid enough to pledge their heart to someone forever, right? I can't seem to find joy in anything. I just simmer, like a human in a hot tub, in all the misery. I play songs that hurt me and make me cry. I have downloaded book that make me feel all the pain in a pathateic attempt at making the hurt stronger so it won't last as long.

He seems happy though. So I guess I should take solace in the fact that the man I love so much is happy even though his happiness is because he left me.