Why is divorce literally hell? The marriage was supposed to be the hell, the divorce was supposed to be the relief. You sign a piece of paper, pretending like you’ll be able to erase your past, with hopes and dreams that the grass is greener on the other side. Well spoiler alert – the process itself is just as gut wrenching as the day you spent packing up your belongings and driving away. It’s that moment of saying goodbye to your dogs, and the house that was once yours every…single…day. It’s the memories of the good times replaying over and over in your mind, because for some reason the days you wanted to give up have been pushed aside in your brain as your body’s mechanism to heal. I know why I left, and I know how much pain and sadness I was in prior to leaving, but this… at this point still feeling this way… just is really unfair.

As if replaying moments in my mind throughout the day isn’t bad enough, I have had continual nightmares since I left. They stopped for a few months, but came right back. Since the last court date they have been becoming more vivid. When I wake up from the dream I am soaked, heart racing, gasping for a breath of air. I don’t understand how he still has the power to make me feel this way. How can one person control another even in their unconscious?

I was just getting out of the shower after working a double at the restaurant. My husband (then boyfriend) hadn’t touched me in a few days, which for us was completely off. He happened to come into the bathroom as I was drying myself off, mascara slightly running as it never completely comes off in the shower. As I wrapped the towel around my wet body I looked at him and asked if everything was okay… certainly not thinking that anything was wrong, but just wanting to hear him confirm. He lifted his right hand to my chin and turned my face over to a small section of the un-fogged bathroom mirror that had cleared itself and said “tell me, who would want that.”

I remember that moment as if it was yesterday, and now that’s all I constantly dream about. His tone, his face, the way his eyes looked as he looked at me through the mirror. His words completely shattered my every being. It was the beginning of me learning the rules if I wanted a to please him. I obviously knew that after work I had to shower, but I also had learned that my hair was not allowed to be wet – because who wants a “wet rat” on top of them. Also, being without makeup meant I was good looking for everyone else during the day, but disgusting for the only person that should matter at night. So after I showered I would put something flattering on and at least a little mascara. I hated myself so much back then that I would have done anything to feel loved by him. Can I blame him for wanting the girlfriend/wife that everyone else got to see? Just because I was exhausted from the continual doubles, working multiple jobs, didn’t mean that he wanted me any less – and I should be happy he wants me [sexy], right?

Anyways, the dream… Instead of my ex just saying “tell me, who would want that” – he continued to tell me everything that was wrong with me. Everything in the past decade that he used to say wrapped up into one horrible nightmare. “You’re too selfish to ever be a mother”, “You are just your mother“, “You care about looking good when you leave the house, but this is what I get?”, “You’re a horrible wife“, “What do you do for me?”…. The list went on but at the end of the nightmare he just kept calling me “Debbie” (my mothers name). I was up against the bathroom wall and slowly inching down the floor, hysterical, barely able to make out the words “stop, please stop.” And then I wake up. Drenched. Having to remind myself where I am, and that it was just a dream.

Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream. One of these days I am going to wake up and say “wow, that was such a horrible nightmare.” I’d walk down the hallway listening to the squeaks of the floor boards as my “Memere slippers” rubbed against the wood, and enter the living room greeted by my chocolate lab, dachshund, and husband. Husband. I have to stop saying that. As of Monday (yes, Valentine’s Day – how f’ing ironic, I know) our divorce was finally approved. I thought that hearing the judges words on Monday would bring me this sense of relief; some ability to breath knowing there isn’t a dark shadow hovering over me, knowing that I can finally pick up the pieces of my life, and be happy again… In reality, it was just another day, just a random woman saying random words to us. It didn’t take away the pain of the past. It didn’t take away the pain of loosing an entire family that I loved more than life. It didn’t change anything.

I don’t regret my decision. I begged him for years to just love me. I know he did, but god… he had this magical way of making me feel like absolutely nothing. I chose to believe that happiness does exist, and its out there. I chose to be able to find a spouse I never will have to worry about coming home to at night. I chose to be a mother someday. I have to continually remind myself of everything I can have in my life now that I am no longer married to him. I have to keep telling myself that the grass will be greener.