The Biggest Mistake Of My Life

Today marks the anniversary of the biggest mistake I ever made.

Although it's been almost a year since he moved out, the wounds are still fresh and bleeding profusely. When I think of him, I get waves on nausea. In fact, I can no longer even speak his name. I've removed his name from my phone and replaced it with "the ex," much in the same manner I might refer to the lawn guy or the plumber.

You see, truth be told, I didn't know the man I married so I no longer consider that he was ever my husband. I prefer to think of him as nothing more than a sperm donor. Because essentially that's what he was. I likely would have gotten off better by simply handing him a check for his services and completely eradicating him from my life forever.

He is the lowest of the low, a common piece of refuse.

I play these games with myself where I throw out the first words that come to mind as his name passes through my brain -- selfish, liar, weak, cowardly, cruel, simple-minded. I could go on and on.

As the days go by, I sadly don't find myself any less bitter. In fact, I'm angrier than ever. I hate him with every ounce of blood that flows through my body. I believe that part of the problem is that for the first year I made excuses as to why he left. I felt sorry for him. I believed that he was confused and realized that he had made a mistake. I took every word he said to me as truth, never stopping to think that he was totally playing me for an idiot. 

But my head is clear now and I'm madder than hell. To say that I detest him would be a complete and utter understatement. He makes me physically ill. I want to vomit when he's in my presence. When I look at him, I see a lying, self-absorbed pathetic weasel.

To earmark our anniversary, the callous prick explained to me that he pretty much felt no remorse whatsoever about our divorce. However, he said he did feel bad that he had walked out and left me with a 1-year-old and a 6-year-old. That in itself proved just how delusional he really is.