Thread by @TW_Beckett

5 years ago, on a freezing night, I woke up in a cold sweat.

A culmination of two years of therapy, a 9-year marriage, and now it was time.

It was time to tell her.

It was time to tell my wife I wanted a divorce.

I'd been putting it off. My therapist was impatient with me.

We had come to this conclusion over three months before.

Why could I not pull the trigger?

Family and friends pressuring me to stay in it "for the kids".

But 9 years of robotic, emotionless, passionless, sexless marriage had my mind made up.

I knew I had to make my move. I knew my life depended on it.

We weren't intimate anymore.

I was told this was how marriage was.

We sat at dinner date nights, now very rare, in silence.

I was told this was how marriage was.

We seldom spoke, only to handle family business.

I was told this was how marriage was.

"Life happens. It gets in the way. Marriage is work."

All the same cliches. All the same words from all the same people who were in all the same loveless, sexless, passionless marriages as I was.

"It's just the way it is."

Nope.

I refused to accept that this was all there was to life, to marriage, to me.

My whole life had been spent trying to live to someone else's expectations.

Living for others.

It wasn't doing anything for me but making me miserable, and it wasn't doing anything for anyone else except making them demand more from me.

I wasn't going to make anyone else happy. It was time to make TW Beckett happy.

So, as I sat in silence on that cold January night, looking into the darkness, desperately trying to summon up the words, I took a deep breath.

I touched my wife on the shoulder, waking her.

Four words came out of me:

"I'm done. It's over."

She was stunned.

She said nothing.

She then turned to me in half sleep.

"Why?"

"Because. I've come to realize that this is not how I want to live my life. I'm living someone else's life, and it's become a nightmare," I stated.

"We need to go to counseling," she stuttered.

"I've been going to counseling for two years. And my counseling has led me to this conclusion. You refused to go by yourself. Now, at the time of a DOA marriage, you want to go to counseling?"

I asked her, in disbelief.

"We just can't give up," she stated.

"You gave up the minute you decided that the problems in the marriage were all mine. So I went to try and fix them, and I determined that fixing them meant walking away from you," I exclaimed.

"Well, I've never liked your therapist and he sounds like a quack if he's telling you to leave me," she said.

My therapist was one of the best in the state. When I first went to him, she was excited.

Now, she was angry that he'd "made" me break up the marriage.

"This is all me. He had no say in this. I decided a few months ago that I was done. So, I'm done," I stated, emotionless.

"Well, I want to go see a counselor. We need to see what's wrong with you. That therapist is bad," she was grasping for words.

"It's not going to help. You still don't see your side of the issues in this marriage? No sex, no communication, dead ends everywhere," I asked.

"I'm just fine. You're the messed up one. And now you've gone and made a mistake with this therapist," she exclaimed.

Defiant until the end, she was not going to stop.

So I relented.

My concerns, my value, my part in the marriage didn't mean anything if it cost us the marriage.

"Save it at all costs and if you don't, you're a selfish bastard."

We went to counseling.

The first day, the counselor asked, "On a scale of 1-10, what is your interest in saving this marriage?"

She said 10.

I said 0.

It was over.

Three sessions and I officially filed.

She was still reeling, but I was ready to go on with my life, even if it meant going it alone.

And alone I would go, for 2 years.

My family was disappointed in me, and they made their disappointment felt in being in my life.

My older sister was the only one who stayed.

"But the kids."

The kids were upset. But as time passed and we both became ourselves again, the kids started to notice.

The kids were relieved that our dead marriage was over.

"Dad, I love seeing you smile again, even if you're going through some stuff," my oldest said.

So there I was, separated from my wife, moving her out, a gigantic mortgage I couldn't afford, family not talking to me, depressed, suicidal at times, broke, with two giant moving trailers in my driveway.

I can't blame other men in this situation for giving up hope.

But I pressed on. Why?

Because I knew that it was going to be hard to take my life back from those who had wanted to see it end another way.

I was writing this ending.

This was my story. Not theirs.

They didn't have the pen. I did.

I didn't care what happened, only that I control how it happened.

My freedom, my decisions, my choices were mine again.

This divorce was the first and only choice I had made on my own accord in my life up to that time.

And it felt freakin' amazing.

The world was crumbling around me, but I knew that after the fall, there would be plenty to rebuild in to a life I wanted.

A life I chose.

My life on my terms.

Don't let anyone tell you how to live your life.

You live and die on your own choices and you succeed and fail on your own accords.

My divorce, while sad and tragic to those who were living outside my bubble, was a godsend to myself and my ex-wife.

We were in a black hole, and I pulled us out.

Now, today, my ex and I have an amazing relationship.

We are better people apart than we ever were together.

We co-parent effectively and on the same front. Communication is top notch.

Our kids are happy, well adjusted, and are in all sorts of activities.

The proof is in the pudding and seeing my kids mention my happiness in living my own life, seeing me smile everyday instead of my frown tells me I made the right decision.

And I see their smiles everyday knowing their dad is happy and living the life he chose to live.

No one, no one can tell you how to live your life.

You choose it.

Live with the consequences of the choices you make.

Make the best of it and you'll see amazing things happen to you.

The struggle is worth every minute.