Let's be honest. Right here, right now. Honest. I guess this is me being honest. The last few years of our marriage, really sucked. I mean really . . . what girl dreams of being afraid of her husband, of hating her life, of feeling trapped, and of feeling so desperate to find sanity, that she ventures into the insane and puts a gun to her head? Certainly not this girl.
Right now I am angry at you. Angry that were speeding, angry that passed on the left, that you were careless, that you changed from the man I married to an addict. I am angry that my current memories are muddled with recurring flashbacks of your anger outbursts. Of threatening to leave me and the kids on the top of a mountain in California and then disappearing in the car for a couple hours. Of throwing a box of knives at me. At yelling and cursing at me for the stupidest of things. For ever believing for an instant that I would have cheated on you, used drugs, or done anything to add to your torment. I am angry that you took from me so many simple joys with your paranoias. Angry that you didn't possess the power to make it stop, yet even as I write this with tears pouring over, I know my anger does not good.
Once the ball started rolling, this was the only way to end all the things I was angry about. Sometimes I wonder, did you do this on purpose? Did you leave this life intentionally because it was the only way to give me what I needed to so much. Because I have found so much peace and comfort in your absence that I fight off being riddled with guilt. I am enjoying this life now, four months after you died, more than I enjoyed the months before your death.
I want to date again. I want to be happy. I want someone to be happy with. I don't know how to do this and feel so guilty for wanting this. I am sorry, but I feel I deserve this. I walked through hell with you. Literal hell. Don't I deserve your support in this? Don't I deserve so much more?
