the beginning of the end

So it begins.

We stopped talking to each other for a few days now. We can’t even look at each other or be in the same space. Which is awkward when we happen to be alltogether with our son, who still believes we are the three musketeers with group hugs and kisses.

Today, I still didn’t make any approaches to you as we got up and got dressed at about the same time. Both in different directions.

Yesterday, you were still wearing your wedding ring but today I found it laying in the cupboard where you usually keep it with your watch when you go to sleep and pick it up as you go in the morning. Almost automatically, I placed my own wedding ring and my engagement ring right next to it. I never ever take my rings off, not when I’m washing my hands, taking a shower – ever. It surprised me I could take it off. Looking at my hand where the rings used to be, it has become whiter than my skin.

I know you’ll think you will hurt me by not wearing your wedding ring, but I’d like to see where we go from here once you see mine laying there too.

I’m just so tired of you controlling my life. I’m sick of your hypocrisy. I’m angry for letting things get this far. I’m dissapointed in myself.

Basically, I’m everything I thought I could never be. Debt collectors are coming in more regular now, today I spoke to one of them again about your outstanding amounts. Seems like we in the same loop again, just when you promised me things would be better.

I never should have given the ball back in your court and allow you to take me back. You wear your ring to control me, hurt me, please me and give me false hope. They say its a symbol of everlasting love, but your ring means nothing to you.

You just don’t like it that I don’t come to you, like every other time, telling you sorry and asking you to forgive – be it my fault or not. It was a matter of being the bigger person, but I don’t want to be that person in the relationship anymore. It works both ways and you’re pride never – ever – gave you that same sense and come to me and say sorry. In fact, the last time you told me you were sorry was the time you took me back. In total, over the past nine years, you’ve only been able to say that same word only a handful of times.

Which is fine. It doesn’t bother me anymore. I’m chosing myself. I’m taking back control of my life which has spiralled so out of control and into such dependancy on you.

I need to learn to depend on myself, so I can teach my son to do the same. I’d rather have him know he got a strong mommy, not an unhappy married couple raising him in a disorganised home.