Telling the kids

We told them we are separating tonight. For a while, at least, due to my medical problems (looking like a form of epilepsy that can be controlled with medicine) I NEED his group insurance, else it would become a "pre-existing condition." The kids were slain, and though I still love him and wish so much that it didn't have to come to this, for a few moments I hated him. Watching the tears stream down my childrens' faces and knowing that we, his family, were not important enough for him to fight his addiction, and to fight his lying, and seeing the result.... I hated him then.

My daughter asked if we still loved each other. While I was saying, yes I did still love Daddy, I heard nothing from his side. I offered to let him take some of the pictures crowding our fireplace mantle, he declined. Why did I let my image of myself become so wrapped up in him. At near the height of my weight (figure that one out...) I believed I not only was beautiful, but sexy, as well. All because my husband desired me, I believed that. I believed I was funny and worthy and a good person, all because my husband believed that. I didn't care if the whole world hated me and thought me ugly, as long as Brad loved me and wanted me, I was SPECIAL.

And then to find the mounting evidence of cheating. Of lying. Of his corrupted sense of morality. I crashed.

And now? Now I weigh less than I did going off to college, and men give me second glances, and try to flirt, and I couldn't care less because the ONE I wanted to love me doesn't. Or at least doesn't enough. Which amounts to the same thing.