Broken in fear

We have been married for 9 years now. In love for maybe two. Hated each other for at least 5. And two years...spent in limbo trying to figure it out. It’s at the end now. A marriage over. Broken and scattered. The betrayals and hurt between us enough to flood a river. Sharp words and sad intentions are all that is really left.

But we have to be civil. We have to be. Because we share something between us that is worth the world. We have two kids. Two beautiful, amazing, wonderful, souls that love us. Thhe don’t see the brokenness in us. They don’t understand the spitefullness and the hate that has shattered even a chance at love. They are what matters. They are what’s importat. And for a while, they were enough to keep us trying. To hold on and give up our personal wants. To refuse to separate, because they are far more important than either one of us. They are what matters.

But that was only for a while. We both tried. But the river was too wide. The needs to different. The uncertainty too strong. And we gave way. Now all that’s left is animosity and fear. Fear of each other. Fear of our intentions.

He reached a point where the loneliness of our marriage drove him back to his own country. To a family that loves him and wants him. He walked away. At least I think that is why he left. I can only guess at this point. He only talks about how I ruined everything. And if I’m honest. I don’t really understand his intentions. He lost his job after Covid, and couldn’t find another one of the same caliber. So he didn’t work. And then he left. His brother baught him a restaurant over there. He told me I can move there with the kids. I can stay there with him, and my only job would be to watch the kids.

But he doesn’t want me. And I don’t want him. We both want the kids. And I don’t want to live in a country where he would take over me. Take over my needs and wants. His voice would be the only one that matters and leaving would mean leaving my kids behind. I don’t want to be with him. I can admit that. But I’m scared. Always scared. I don’t know when I became such a coward.

So I stay here. Where I have a job and freedom and my kids. But the life we knew is gone. The house might be gone. It took two incomes to keep it standing and its tipping over with just mine. The comforts are gone. But I am free. At least that’s what I try to tell myself. When I’m not scared or panicking, or writing just so I don’t go crazy.

You see, I don’t miss him. But I’m afraid of him. I‘m afraid he will come back one day and take the kids. I’m afraid of the fight for custody. I’m afraid of doing all of this alone. I’m afraid. And the fear is slowly destroying me. Everyone around says ”don’t worry! He’s not going to do anything!” But they never lived with him. They don’t really know him. He plans, and is vengeful. He hates with a passion that takes him over. He doesn’t care. And really, he has nothing to lose. Because the only thing that matters to him is....him.

So he really has nothing to lose. And the way he hates is calculated but volatile. It takes over him. He plans revenge. He hurts. And now, I’m at the center of that hate. And I hold what he wants. So I’m scared. I’m scared of the fight and scared of losing. I have all these crazy ideas in my head about trackers and always having knowledge of my kids whereabouts. Because if he wants it; he will come and take them. And I don’t know how to fight him. I never have. Every fight always ended with him winning and me a little more broken.

That’s how I feel. I don’t think I’m strong enough to fight him. And the fear...the panic. It takes up everything. I can’t seem to hide from it and facing it leaves me breathless. So what do you do?