I've spent the last few days self-analyzing. It's not been fun, I can tell you that. I've had long talks with someone close to me. She opened my eyes to something that I never dreamed of. Something that broke my heart, in a way that I didn't think it could any more.
My heart and soul have been beaten down, broken into pieces, pulled apart, and almost shattered to dust. When I finally had the nerve, the guts, to kick my ex-husband out of my life... I was nothing but a shell. Three years later, I'm still trying to fill the void. But... I am trying, and I am doing it.
What's been weighing on me so heavily is not this...this...ex of mine. That was a long time coming and a very very good thing. No, what's hurting is the man I left before my ex. The father of my oldest child. I left because I was pregnant and he was a drunk. He was not violent, but it was not an environment I wanted my child around. It never occurred to me then that I could have talked to him about the drinking, that there was a chance he would have stopped for the sake of our child. It never occurred to me how much he really loved me. Hence the broken heart. I found out just how much I meant to him, only now it's too late. And he'll never know how much he meant to me and how much I was willing to sacrifice to be with him. He thought I left because of another, more complicated reason. But I didn't give a damn about that (pardon me there). I loved him. I love him.
He's gone now. He passed away five years ago, and took my heart with him.