Dear Ex-Wife, Please Love Me Again

3. Learning to Live with the Pain

3. Learning to Live with the Pain

Amelia

That night, we return home, the kids utterly dejected. Seeing them so sad pushed my own pain into the background. I have to be strong for them.

“Brush your teeth and go to bed. I love you very much.”

The kids nod silently. I know they are incredibly sad, but at some point, that sadness will pass. They are children. They won’t lose their father. They just won’t live with him anymore. I hope JuanLu doesn’t push them aside if he has more children. My babies will suffer greatly if they feel displaced.

After they go upstairs, I stay in the living room for a while, thinking. Would it be okay if we stay here? The truth is, it’s very painful for me. We were very happy here, but now, that happiness has slipped away like sand through my fingers. I'll bring it up with the kids. I still don't know what will become of my life. I've never worked, and I didn't study, so you could say I have no idea what I'm going to do for work. I sit down on the sofa and sigh. My parents told me so, to study something, but I clung to being a wife and mother.

But I can't just sit here feeling sorry for myself. No one is going to support me anymore, so now it's up to me to find out what I'm good at. Even though I'm only thirty years old, people might think I'm too old to study. Maybe I should sell something? Hmm. I've never been good at sales. Or maybe work in an office as a secretary? I need to update my skills.

I just want to go to my room and keep crying, but what's the use? I have to learn to live with this pain until the time comes when it no longer hurts. I sigh and get up. I have to pick up the mess I made with the things I threw on the floor. At least the kids were so sad that they just went up to their rooms without noticing, otherwise, they would have been scared.

With great pleasure, I pick up the remains of the “exquisite” china that’s broken on the floor. As a kind of revenge, I would like to gather the pieces and put them in a box, to give to JuanLu's mother and say, "Here’s your garbage, your son, and your horrible dishes.” My own silly thoughts make me smile. But I have to be honest. I'm not good at revenge. Maybe I should take lessons from my friend Cony, who was an expert at making her exes pay when they did something wrong to her. Although now that she's married, she pretends to be sweet, but I've known her all my life, I don't buy it. But her husband does. The poor guy doesn't know he's living with a black widow.

When I finish cleaning, I walk past Lily's room. Through the door, I hear soft sobs. My little girl's sadness breaks my heart. But as much as I would like to comfort her, I can't yet. Not when my own pain overwhelms my soul. I decide to walk past. Let her release all the disappointment so that there's nothing left inside her. I want her to be strong and confident in the future, and if she sees me defeated, I will create a pattern for her that will be difficult to erase from her mind later on. She has to understand that there will always be pain in this world, but that it cannot break us. I know she will get through this.

I peek into my son's room. It's dark, but the streetlight coming in through the window lets me make him out. I know he's processing everything that's going on. But I trust that he will be my and Lily's support and that this will not change his outlook in the long run. I will make it my mission to raise a wonderful man, who in the future will be loyal and sincere, unlike his father, who does not have those values, because his mother has condoned him cheating on his family. No, I will never be like my ex-mother-in-law.

When I get to my room, I start by doing a cleanse. For so many years I shared this place with him. The first place we lived in was very modest. We were two kids playing “house.” After much effort and sacrifice, he started working. He was always very intelligent, so the company where he started developing new apps opened the door to a new world for him. And he took me by the hand through each of his achievements. That's how, with more financial freedom, he was able to buy this house for us. This room was specially furnished to his liking. I walk around the room, observing in detail every item that is there. The first bed was replaced by this huge one, where we shared so many passionate nights. The modernist lamps, the beautiful mirror, the gigantic closet.

And that's one of the things that hurts me the most. Now this place will feel bigger and emptier with him gone. I won't be able to live here, knowing that my other half will never return. That he will now share another bed and another place with a woman who is not me.

I let myself fall on the carpet, to continue to let out my grief. I'm at that point where I ask myself, where did I go wrong? But I know that only he has the answer, and I'm not going to ask him.

I force myself to get up off the floor. I open the closet to get some clothes, and my heart skips a beat when I see that his side is still full of all his things. As if it were a fetish, I caressed each garment. As if doing so were a spell that would destroy the reality of our situation.

But I know it doesn't work like that. The clothes remain the same, and so do we. JuanLu has left me for another and that's all I need to accept. Before taking a shower, I take out his suitcase to start packing up all his things. I pack them carefully, as if instead of leaving forever, he was just going on one of his business trips. At times, I feel like a masochist, but my disappointment is so great that I look for flashes of good times so as not to completely break down.

When I'm done there, I look at my handiwork. Half of that once-full space is empty. Just as empty as my life and my heart are now. I close it carefully, and I move on to his side of the bed. I take the few belongings he left in his drawer. I put them in a bag, along with the portrait from our wedding that he keeps on his bedside table. None of that is any use to me anymore.

It hurts so much to think about it. “His side of the bed.” Now it will just be “my bed.” I lie down on that space, which still holds his scent. I caress his pillow, which he will never use again. So at the last minute, I get up and remove it too. I decide to remove everything, sheets and pillowcases, and put on clean linen. Linen that doesn't smell like him.

For a long time, I look for everything that might remind me of him in the future, and I finish cleaning. I wish that just as everything is packed, I could put my love for him in a bag and leave it among all those things that he will take or that I will send him. But that's not possible. I have to resign myself to the fact that this feeling will fade with time. Or maybe not. Who knows?

I take a shower, and I take the opportunity to shed more tears. When I get tired, I get out to try to get some sleep. I know it won't be easy, but I'll manage. That's how strong I am.