The Days After

 I don't even know what was going through my head on the ride home. I do know that we rode in silence the whole way. My girls and me. From Panama City back to Villa Rica. Without a word. Only blaring Sugarland. 

I had told him the night before that he needed to leave, go home, pack his things and be out by the time we made it back. He agreed. We pulled in the driveway and I was nervous to walk in our home that we shared and made so many memories to see his things gone. They were still there.

We unload the car and i'm dragging my heavy suitcase up the stairs when I hear someone behind me. I turn to look, thinking it's one of the girls. It was him. He takes my suitcase from my hand and brings it up to the room. I'm staring at him in disbelief. Did he not hear what I asked? Did he not remember what he did? I didn't understand. 

He said he was going to eat and then get his things. He went down, reclined in "his" chair and pulled out a whole meal. Sat and ate it like it was nothing. I hadn't been able to eat for weeks. I was already down probably 20 pounds. He obviously had no trouble with an appetite. He then got up and went upstairs. I sat on the couch quietly waiting for him to come down and leave. 

That was the part I didn't want to see. I had asked him to be gone so our daughter and myself didn't have to watch him get in his truck and drive away. But it was so quiet up there. I gave it a while but then went to see what he was doing. He should have been packing a bag, but instead I found him laid across our bed. I nudged him and asked him to get his things. He got up, walked in our bathroom and fell to the floor. He said this was the hardest thing he has ever had to do. 

I'm crying. He's crying. Our daughter is hurt and texting me to get him out of the house. He picks himself up and packs a small bag. He tells me he is mentally not okay and is going to get through it. He tells me he didn't do anything and the woman and her family mean absolutely nothing to him. He tells me the only thing he cares about is our family. He said if we are going to make it through this, then we just need a little time apart. 

I let myself believe it. It was easier to think that, than to believe the truth. I hurt my daughter in the process of that thinking. She felt like I didn't believe her. I did. I knew it. I had known it. But to save myself from hurting as bad as I did, I let myself believe we had a chance. 

There was no way a man that I stood by through all of the things, would do that to his wife and kids in the end. I couldn't let that truth be reality. 

We took time. He would say I will come by everyday and eventually I just won't leave. I didn't know what I felt. I was dead inside you could say. I kept asking myself if I could forgive this man again, and lay next to him in bed knowing what he did for the rest of my life? I knew my answer but was afraid to admit it. The answer was no. I had forgiven him multiple times but could never forget. I knew I could never get over this and I was just fooling myself. I didn't mourn the loss of the man. I was mourning the loss of my life and security. I had to face the realization that I was going to be alone. 

I fought for a couple weeks for the marriage because of our kids. I will never forget the drive to the attorneys office. I called my mother in tears. It wasn't fair that I had to be the one to go file. I'm not the one who did it. I remember saying this is the hardest thing I have ever done and I don't think i'm strong enough. She was always there in my corner and she made sure she knew I would be okay. 

I told the attorney to hold it, and I just needed to pray and make one hundred percent sure this is what I wanted. I didn't want to have any regrets. I didn't want to question did I do everything possible to save my marriage.

It didn't take long. I sat up in bed a couple nights later and something told me to look at venmo. That was crazy because my husband didn't have venmo. But he did. And he had just sent the woman, who he swore he had no contact with and could care less about money for "EVERYTHING." The next day I called my attorney and said, "I'm ready."