I'm sorry you feel that way...
The story
I never thought I’d be the woman who got divorced in her fifties. When we got married, I truly believed it was forever. We built a life together, raised kids, went through struggles, celebrated milestones. But somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn’t happy anymore—not in the way that could be fixed by a weekend away or a new routine. It was the kind of unhappiness that settled deep into my bones, the kind that made me feel like I was disappearing inside my own life. I stayed for years, telling myself it was just a rough patch, that love looks different after decades together, that comfort is its own kind of happiness. But the truth is, comfort became suffocation. And when I finally gathered the strength to say it out loud—to say I can’t do this anymore—his reaction was exactly what I feared. He didn’t yell, he didn’t fight, but he refused to accept it. As if, by sheer will alone, he could undo what I had already decided. And now, months later, after papers have been signed and our lives have been legally separated, he still looks at me with this quiet disbelief, as if I’ll wake up one day and say, You were right, let’s go back to the way things were. But I won’t.
Every conversation we have now ends the same way, with him saying "I don’t understand how you could do this," and me responding with the only truth I have left to give: "I’m sorry you feel that way." I say it because I don’t have the energy to fight anymore, because I know nothing I say will make him understand, and because, in some ways, it’s easier than admitting I don’t care if he understands or not. I didn’t leave to hurt him, but I also didn’t leave to spend the rest of my life apologizing for saving myself. And that’s what I did—I saved myself. From a life that felt stagnant, from a marriage that felt more like an obligation than a choice. It’s not that I don’t feel anything for him anymore. I do. I will probably always love him in some way, but love and happiness are not the same thing. And I chose happiness. That choice was mine to make, even if he never forgives me for it. So now, whenever he tries to guilt me, to make me second-guess, to make me feel responsible for his sadness, I take a deep breath and remind myself: I gave him years. I gave him chances. I gave him everything I had to give. And now, I choose me. I’m sorry he feels the way he does, but I am not sorry for leaving.
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Points of view
i gotta say, this story really hits home for me; Sometimes, it's just madness how we can get so tangled up in relationships that start off as full of warmth and harmony and then slowly drift into something else; like a slow-motion wreck, you know? the way you described your journey.... it feels so genuine and raw... i mostly agree with your choices, though i can't help but wonder if there was another path to rekindle the magic??? it's wild how life throws us these curveballs, and we have to make choices that shake the ground we stand on, right?? once, i saw my own marriage teeter on the edge, and the everyday struggle was real, my friend... 😅 ain’t it crazy how sometimes you gotta choose between everyone else's happiness and your own sanity?? anyway, props to you for finding the strength to change course; it's a real rollercoaster ride, life is.
i understand where you're coming from, but I have to say, I totally disagree with how you handled things; marriage requires constant maintenance and commitment, just like any long-term investment. it's all about resilience, adaptability, and finding innovative solutions during marital downturns. 🙏 achieving happiness isn't instantaneous—it requires strategic effort, persistence, and a readiness to pivot strategies to counteract dwindling marital satisfaction. overcoming periods of dissatisfaction often fortifies the marital bond, turning it into a robust partnership built on shared growth and understanding. it can be challenging, but it's in these difficult moments that the foundation of a true alliance is often solidified; believing in the potential for transformation and renewal can sometimes yield remarkable outcomes. i hope you find what you're looking for, but consider that there might still be avenues of resolution worth exploring. 😊
Well, I gotta tell ya—I totally get what you’re saying and mostly agree with it.
Honestly, this hits close to home ‘cause I once felt that kinda unhappiness in a relationship too. Back in the day, I thought forever meant sacrificing my own happiness, and for a while, I believed that was the right thing. But after a while, ya start to feel kinda empty, you know?
Sure, comfort is nice—it’s like a warm blanket on a chilly night. But if you ain't careful, it can get suffocating. Stepping away like you did could pretty much be saving yourself. I guess it’s kinda like when I finally decided to change jobs—felt super scary and all, but sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do to feel like yourself again.
I reckon choosing happiness over comfort ain’t as easy as it sounds, and I think you’re brave for doing so. But I also wonder if there ain’t another way. I mean, change can be good, but it sure ain’t easy.
Wishing you find the peace you’re seeking—even if it’s a bit rocky along the way.