I'm finding myself taking a series of deep breaths before beginning this post. It's going to be hard to write, and I imagine heavy to read, especially if you don't know me.
I'm getting a divorce.
"But Megan," you'll say, somewhat confused, "You just got married last April!"
I know.
I'm uncomfortable putting all of my dirty laundry on the internet where anyone can see it, so I won't go into any details, but suffice to say that there were cracks in the relationship even before the wedding. It just took me until New Year's Eve to fully realize the truth: It's over.
I am sad, but in a very passive way. It's odd to think of myself as a divorcee, given that I'm not yet 25, and that my marriage has only lasted nine months.
I was the instigator of the end. I have had months, maybe even years, to slowly build up anger and resentment, so for me, the official ending is more of a relief than anything else. I think he was a bit blindsided, and seeing him hurt really hurts me. But the thing is, you can't just stay with someone to avoid hurting them, because then you're in perpetual hurt as well. Something's gotta give.
So, I moved out, and I'm trying to move on.
~Megan