My 20 percent project

This week I researched more on the human arm. After realising my previus idea didn’t work, I started to reseach non moterized movements and muscle contraction. After traveling down this path I was…

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Divorce Is Saying Goodbye One Breath At A Time

After the fights, the tears and recriminations, and the final papers were signed, I realized that I’d been divorcing my husband in slow motion for years.

Change is hard. It never feels organic. And when the person you planned your future with no longer wants one with you, you’re left planning it alone — a thing you never imagined doing at any point in your life.

It sucks.

I liked being married. I enjoyed my husband most days. I liked our life together. I like that we liked many of the same things and that we liked them together. I liked his family and their friends. I liked visiting them, and I really liked that I always had someone to be with on birthdays and holidays, but also on weekends, I liked that when something happened, I’d text him or he’d text me. We’d check in several times a day, most days.

And now we don’t, and it feels lonely. I feel lonely for the first time since before we met 14 years ago. I didn’t like who I was 14 years ago. I like the person I became with him. I still like him a lot. But I’m not sure I love him, and I know he doesn’t love me. And that’s confusing because not loving him feels strange, like something went missing, but I’m only now realizing it’s gone. And I’m wondering how I could’ve lost track of loving him. Thinking of him in the past tense feels like I fell into someone else’s life. Not loving him is as terrible as it was to love him.

We’ve never been right for each other, not really. He was good for me and good to me, but he could not show up for me emotionally. I always thought it was something he could do if he loved me enough. I always thought it was something I could live without if I loved him enough.

And then there were the fights. We spat out invectives and said things in anger that no couple should ever say. Our arguments cut deep and left emotional and psychological scars that, after a while, didn’t heal.

And then came the pandemic, and minor fractures grew into major fissures. And he didn’t want to go to therapy, so I started treatment on my own. And as I began healing from the lifetime of abuse I’d suffered from my family, he couldn’t stand by…

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