On my 30th wedding anniversary, I told my husband I was divorcing him.
He was stunned, “But why? I love you, Kelly, I always have, and I never cheated on you, not ever!”
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Yes, by all standards, he seemed like the perfect husband. But before you judge me, understand that I had good reasons for the divorce, and I knew there was no turning back.
And here’s my story.
Zack and I had been married for three decades. On paper, he was the ideal spouse, faithful, sober, and financially responsible. But beneath the surface, our marriage was suffocating me.
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The problems began when our children were born. I juggled a full-time job and came home to tackle all the housework alone.
Zack did nothing.
One time when I fell seriously ill and was barely able to leave my bed, he did nothing.
My father’s death left me shattered, and Zack’s response? You guessed it: nothing.
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As the years passed, the pattern continued. Menopause hit me hard and brought with it a depression that almost killed me.
Zack’s support? Non-existent.
Our older children left home, and I struggled with empty nest syndrome while my husband continued living like nothing had changed.
It wasn’t just the big things. He never brought me flowers just because and never defended me against his mother’s snide remarks.
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Once, I twisted my ankle and could barely walk. The next morning, I hobbled out of bed at 6 a.m. to make breakfast while he snored away.
“You never told me!” he protested when I laid it all out for him.
But I had. Every time I asked for help, every time I sought affection only to be brushed off for the TV, and every plea for romance – these were all my attempts to communicate.
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Five years ago, I even suggested couples therapy. He refused, insisting everything was fine because he was happy.
Now, faced with the reality of divorce, he suddenly wanted to try. “Please, Kelly,” he begged. “Please give me a chance to make you happy!”
Those words would have meant the world to me at any point in the last thirty years. But now? They just filled me with sadness and pity.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t waste another day of my life on someone who’d never bothered to prioritize my happiness. The next day, I moved out.
I found a charming apartment in Venice Beach and embraced a new lifestyle.
I sold my car, started cycling everywhere, and revamped my wardrobe. I took up dancing, made new friends, and felt a spark of life I hadn’t experienced in years.
My children were shocked, especially my oldest daughter. She told me her dad was devastated and seeing a therapist for depression.
While I felt sorry for him, I knew I couldn’t go back.
A year later, I met Sam. He’s everything Zack wasn’t, attentive, considerate, and eager to spoil me with affection.
We’re planning to marry this summer, and though I’m a bit nervous, I’m excited to experience what real love feels like.
As for my ex-husband? I hear he’s dating a much younger woman who treats him like a servant and spends his money frivolously. I suppose we all get what we deserve in the end.
I don’t regret my decision. At 55, I feel younger, prettier, and more hopeful than I have in decades.
Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is walk away from a situation that no longer serves you, even if it looks perfect on the outside.