It comes down to a post it note

On the day I was married in 2001, I remember telling everyone that there was no such thing as divorce. Yesterday I ate my words as I signed my divorce papers to close the chapter of my marriage.

The first emotion I felt was relief. There is to be no long protracted battle or recriminations. There will be no interference from his family. It is done. The only thing left to do is wait for the court’s rubber stamp and I will be officially divorced.

Today there is a hollow feeling. I had such hopes when I stood in front of my family and friends and pledged to love and cherish this person. Notably we omitted the ‘Until death do us part’. Have I failed? There is a sense of failure and could I have tried harder? At the end of the day I don’t think there was anymore I could do to save it. My bipolar was a mountain he was unable to climb with me and we had grown so far apart it was like we were on two different mountains at the end.

After ten years of our lives together all I received with the divorce papers was a typed note in the most business like language, which I presume was written by his mother because I know that he doesn’t write/speak like that. I am the kind of person who would handwrite a note and say that I wish him well, etc. I realised that was what was expected of me. Not this time.

In the most business like fashion I stuck a post it note to the front of the papers with a simple ‘Thanks’.

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