I Failed.

     I failed to be who he wanted me to be which resulted in a disastrous marriage.  I do not blame him for our divorce, as I am wise enough to know that both a marriage and a divorce take two people.  However, I blame myself for the farce of a marriage I seemed to live for maybe; just maybe, I portrayed to be someone I was not.
     Like the start of most marriages, we were friends, lovers, companions and we had that wedding bliss.  We thought we knew each other and what the other person expected of us, though we could keep our friendship flourishing and our marriage adventures happy and spontaneous.  For a while, we managed to do just that.  So, what the hell happened to us?  Looking back, I realize our marriage fits so perfectly into the saying by Bill Watterson, "Know what's weird?  Day by day, nothing seems to change. But pretty soon, everything's different."  After ten years of loosing myself, I found myself filing for a divorce.
     Before the marriage, Charles and I had much in common:  Horse training and showing, music, swimming, favorite foods, place of employment and even trucks.  However, I failed to see the differences in these common similarities.  Though we were both into horse training and showing, he was training roping horses and showing in rodeos while I was an English rider and showing in Hunter Jumper classes.  His music was country; mine was classic rock.  He liked the Chlorinated pools while I preferred Baquacil.  He enjoyed the home-cooked meals while I enjoyed the local restaurants.  We worked at the same factory though he was a mechanic and I was a line keeper.  So, in all honesty, the only "things" we had in common is that we both drove Chevy trucks and pulled our horse trailers.
     I cannot say exactly when our marriage started falling apart.  Was it when I became pregnant and Charles insisted I quit my job?  Was it when he heard about Christopher Reeves having an accident while riding Hunter Jumper? (An accident that left Christopher Reeves paralyzed).  I remember that day vividly as Charles and I and our two boys sat at the dinner table.  I mentioned to Charles that our newest horse is showing great promise in Hunter Jumper.  I asked him if he would build me a couple of jumps higher than those I already used.  He did not answer but he did leave the table and head out of doors. I assumed he was going outside to build those jumps.  Instead, he loaded up the horse and took it to the nearest sale barn.  (Only after our divorce did I find my English riding equipment).  Or maybe we started heading for divorce court the day I started talking about the latest short story I wrote and he rudely interrupted me telling me he was not interested in my writing.  Or maybe he was thinking about a divorce at the New Year's Eve party we were hosting at our home and one of his friend's brought a guitar over.  His friend asked me to teach him how to play "Free Bird" so I did all the while noticing that glint of disapproval in my husband's eyes.
     Whatever the reasons, I slowly discovered I was becoming a person I did not enjoy being.  I was not training and showing horses anymore, instead I was working out at a fitness center, getting my nails manicured, my hair styled more often than needed knowing my husband preferred a "Barbie" image.  My truck and trailer were sold for a family car.  My writing was pushed aside for more important doings such as cooking and cleaning and dishes and laundry.  The chores I despised seem to take precedence over the career-oriented person I once was.  The worst happenings within my marriage is that I never thought, never dreamed of being that wife who would live in denial.  I used to laugh at the news when the media announced that some woman had no idea her husband was a rapist or mass murderer.  How could she not know?  What a fidiot! (My made-up word for fucking idiot). So, when I suspected my husband was doing drugs, I confronted him on the matter.  He denied it and I believed him.  Once I found some white powder in a plastic baggie hidden inside the bathroom, I confronted him with the evidence in my hand.  Again, he denied it saying that the powder was from the factory and that he needed to have it tested for whatever chemicals may be inside it.  I believed him.  Well, sort of, sort of not as I did start monitoring his behavior.  Then, when I found another baggie of the same stuff, I wised up a bit. I scheduled an appointment with a psychiatrist for surely, Charles would not lie to a professional and certainly, the psychiatrist would see through a lie and inform me of the truth.  Charles said he was not involved with any drugs, the psychiatrist assured me Charles was telling the truth and so I left the office feeling foolish for having suspected the worst.  On my drive home, I reflected on the white powder and my husband's behavior.  I decided that perhaps I was creating images inside my mind for maybe I wanted to turn him into a monster; maybe I wanted a reason for a divorce.  How could I be so stupid in thinking that Charles, of all people, would do drugs?  After all, the man held down a good job and even invented robotic machines for the Japanese.
     When I found yet another baggie of white powder, I decided I could no longer play the role of a naive, stupid, Barbie doll of a housewife any longer.  I had a friend on the police force run a check on the powder.  The report came back as 350 dollars worth of crack cocaine.  I was devastated.  I filed for a divorce not so much for reasons of drug abuse but more for the reason that I had believed him over me.  I believed his lies over my own better judgment.  For once, I truly hated myself.
     I wish I could say that my divorce was a success but I even managed to fail at that.  I did not pay attention to the details, instead I rushed through the whole process thinking the faster I get away from this man the better for my children and me.  I thought more about the safety of our children and myself than the future.  I did not file for any monetary gains.
     I remember the judge asking me if I did everything in my power to hold this marriage together, I replied, "yes".  Only after I left divorce court did I realize that I lied because from a Christian standpoint, I could have tried forgiveness one more time.  I shook that thought away in a hurry.  As I drove away, I can honestly say that I felt nothingness.  I thought about Taoism and the motto within that belief, "From nothingness do we begin and from nothingness do we begin again."  That day, I realized I failed at marriage (the future would assure me that I failed at the divorce) but I was okay at beginning at nothingness as long as the path I chose would lead me back to the real me.