So hard. I believe that. Two years of hope and struggle against the odds. But she was is too hurt. The fights, just kept coming. And tonight, punches. She hit me, a lot, and the last shot was right in the mouth. A hard slap, right in the face, across my jaw and mouth. I think her hand must hurt as much as my face. Needless to say, this violence certainly… Right? I mean, I just immediately started getting things together to leave. But then thought, No, the kids. I could hear her downstairs with one of them, crying. She came up again, I sat on the bed, Please, don’t explode again… But she did. It’s all my fault. But I don’t agree. Her version of events is so unfair. But she has this one thing… Tu has puesto los cuernos… And nothing else matters. She distorts and negates and denies and lies and forgets and twists and fights to be right when she is so so wrong… But then she justifies it all with… Tu has puesto los cuernos, y esa mujer sigue en nuestra vida… And anything I say, anything, everything possibly positive from the last two years, including buying and building a new house and home is totally undermined as if it were nothing, or a mistake. Negative. Bitter anger, pain, hurt. I mean… There’s marriage crisis… Sleeping on the sofa… Going for long walks alone… Tears and fears and all that.. And then there’s getting punched in the face and head.
Sadly, this all started this evening because our son got a 5.6 on an English assignment. I forced myself not to point that out during the argument because I knew he would hear… But I’m sure he feels it anyway. God knows I still hate myself for my parents divorce. I’m crying now, for the kids. I really tried… I swear it.. I really did. I tried so hard, for them. But… But… But… Yo he puesto los cuernos. Her sleeping with her workmate however many times, including at work AND in our bed in those months we’ve been separated.. . Nor her throwing everything, including her fist, in my face, all this time, even until tonight, still, getting hit and punished for something she claims she has forgiven… Even still, after having her own extramarital experience, after buying this house, after two years, the counseling, the walks, the talks, the arguments, the agreements, even the punching me in the face… After two years of pain and suffering…we’re still not even… It still comes back to my affair and how horrible everything was before and after, as if every moment of our marriage has been nothing but suffering. I don’t agree. But we’ll never move on if that’s how she sees it… And that’s how she sees it. She hates me, hits me, and wants me out of her life. I don’t want to do that to the kids. I want to find some peace. I want to be here with my children. I could have left tonight. Most people, maybe, after the violence of the fight we had, after the turmoil we’ve been through, would just leave. I changed my clothes and got some things together to go, but stopped. I can’t leave like this. The kids. And changed again and got into bed. And she came again, and there was more shouting. Why? Porque yo he puesto los cuernos. Yeah, but…. No buts. How does a marriage recover from this? And should it? For the kids? Just tears and heartbreak and failure. I tried. I really did. She challenged… “what have you done… Tell me que has hecho para mejorar la cosa?” “Well, there’s that plant you’ve left on the chair that I brought home for you, with a bottle of wine, on Wednesday, for example.” “oooohhhh…hohohoooo…” she said, “impresionante… Asombroso.” well, you asked for an example and there’s one… From two days ago. It obviously doesn’t matter. Me going running or playing the guitar is thrown in my face as evidence of my selfishness. I feel so bad for hurting her that I take the abuse and fights and strife as well deserved. She only knows what she thinks she knows. So I deserve this. And will endure it for the kids.
I had also suggested we actually do something this weekend, besides drink and smoke in the kitchen while she watches cat videos and I stare at the sky through the window, wishing, waiting, dreading the argument over who cooks and cleans more often. Instead, she told me to move out this weekend. She wants a divorce. But the kids…
I don’t know, don’t want to know what you’re doing tonight or this weekend or in your fixed marriage, for the rest of your life, or with someone else not me, sitting strong on top, or on your back, or on your knees, looking up, or over your shoulder, or whatever position you find yourself in, whatever it is, we don’t talk anymore, like you once sang, so I’ll never know. But whatever it is, it’s a cup of tea compared to this, and sincerely… Be thankful for that cup of tea. And know I tried for you, too.