thinly veiled realizations

For years in my marriage I devoted all of my time, energy, and willpower into learning how to be a better wife and mother. I often found myself feeling like I fell short of what would be the bare minimum of what is considered decent. it never mattered how often I would get praised for how devoted of a mother I was, and it definitely did not matter how genuine I could tell they were being. In my mind the only thing I could focus on was being the best that I could be at this charade. I crafted meticulous versions of myself that were all perfectly tailored with the right set of skills and knowledge that I had gathered throughout my life. I never met anyone I couldn't charm in all of my eighteen years until I started to over analyze every aspect of every personality from a forced outside perspective.

I wouldn't say that I was uncomfortable with myself and who I was because these personalities were never falsely created, I didn't have to pretend to be me. When I was married I didn't have to tailor my personality, I kept the performance acts for the public, for the times I needed different versions of myself. As a person with varying interests and friend groups, it's easy to fall into certain public roles that are predetermined, maybe that's just me. When I got married I assumed that I could be free to let my walls go completely. I didn't feel a need to constantly be on in order to keep the relationship engaged. that proved to be wrong.

Looking back I can imagine that the greatest issue that caused the divorce was the inability to grow or see a different perspective. There also could have been a deeper issue between the environments and attention we received in our childhoods, but the main point of it all was always a difference in opinions.

Despite an overwhelming amount of similarities and interests, there was a clear distinction since the beginning of power, thoughts, feelings, and outlooks of the world. for all it was worth, for all the love that was claimed to be present, we couldn't understand how the other wanted to live life.

The craving to be accepted by our respected peer groups ultimately led us apart. Since childhood we both had separate, different ideas of how our lives would lead and eventually end. I'm not sure if I can definitively say whether one of us was right in our wishes, but I know we both chose what we felt was right for us.

I've always tried my best to be an honest person, and I make a constant promise to myself to do everything in my power to not say statements I don't mean or that are said in anger. not to say that I haven't ever, but it's something I believe is important, I believe that it is the bare minimum I can do. It's not hard to be able to determine what kind of person I am, and I am very proud of that fact. I don't want to be hard to read, and I don't desire to be mysterious and full of secrets, and I definitely do not want to be perceived as someone who is untruthful and untrustworthy. i think it as a personal accomplishment that I am able to at the very least be respectful of everyone I come across, even if it isn't necessarily earned or reciprocated.

Writing has always been my main form of healing, it helps me clear my head and get rid of the annoying thoughts that seem to constantly overhang from the ceilings of my mind. and as I get closer to the year marking my separation it becomes increasingly noticeable how much progress I've made since. I spent a lot of that year feeling guilty, and truthfully I still feel guilty. I can't lie and say that there hasn't been periods where I wish I could have made things work out, I don't want to be deceiving and portray the idea that the whole thing was an act and some long drawn out opportunity advantage.

the more time that passes, and the countless memories that reveal themselves, all serve as a reminder of my life. That sounds extremely obvious and mundane, but I spend so much time in my own head I often forget that I am currently living life. The guilt I feel is residual of the effects of my failed marriage. When you spend years with a constant negative influence, spitting negative ideas and false allegations, with hardly any time of rest between, the peace of the silence creates a paranoia that's nearly impossible to get rid of. I'm often reminding myself of the fact that silence isn't something to worry about, and peace doesn't have to send waves of anxiety through you.

there are days where it feels like i'll never get out of the suffocating memories, there are moments where I feel unreasonably angry at the treatment I allowed to happen. I spend quite a lot of time remembering that I am allowed to express my feelings freely, and I spend even more time reminding myself that the crushing feeling in my chest will eventually pass, the memories that get caught in the back of my throat will soon allow air flow back in, and the sharp pain in my back will heal.