Stigma

I am ashamed that my marriage didn't work out. I know that I tried everything I could and gave more than I should in order to make it work but I am still embarrassed at my failure. I feel guilty that my children are part of a broken home. All the terminology surrounding my situation is negative. I know that I am in a better place for leaving an abusive relationship but I feel selfish about doing so.

I know that I worked at every facet of my married life. I held three jobs concurrently to financially support my family, I cooked, I cleaned, I arranged our social life, I managed the finances and I encouraged him to achieve his lifelong goal. I also took blame for the situation on board. Even after working a full week, cooking meals at night and driving for three hours to get home I would turn on the bedroom eyes and (I have to be honest here) force myself to attend my husband's needs.

Then there was the day I finally realised that nothing I did would make the man I was with love me back. From that moment I had no reason to hang on. My attempts to placate an angry and sometimes violent man were falling on deaf ears. My needs had been ignored for many years and my dreams for the future were not being catered for.

Truth be told, he wanted someone I could not be. I knew it before we were married and, although I brought it up many times, he would insist that he loved me (and at the same time try to change me into someone else). I should have trusted my gut. Sure, I could play the part of country bumpkin (hell, I can pretty much do anything I set my mind to) but it brought me no joy. I tried desperately to find peace in the situation but I was going against every fibre of my being. I was separated from my family - geographically and emotionally - and life was devoid of all the things I loved to do - eating out, going to movies, drinking and socialising with friends. Instead I was wrangling chickens, herding cows and traipsing through mud in sleet and wind. I was living in squalor and wearing clothes with holes. Anyone who knows me would attest that this is not who I am.

Despite knowing that I gave it my all and that I could never be the woman he wanted I am devastated. I am disappointed in myself; I reneged on a promise and that tears me to pieces.

I also worry that there is also a stigma associated with the divorced woman. I am the unwanted one. A discarded bit of stuff. I do not want to spend the rest of my life alone but my ex makes a good point. If he spent 15 years with me and could not find something to love, who's to say that there is anything lovable within me at all. Perhaps that's bitterness on his part. Perhaps it is hurt speaking. Perhaps it is that I was just not a good match for him. But what if it is the truth?