You offered me the chance to be a better, happier me.
You hurt me.
You make me sad. Hopeless. Feel lonely. Broke. Wonder why “this is happening to me.”
You screw me up when sometimes I miss my ex. Or sometimes when he’s nice, I remember all the good times all over again only to realise in a flash that those times are gone.
You take my child away from me for part of the time.
You make me lose seconds, minutes, hours, and days with my child. Moments that I can never get back. Parts of her childhood gone. Forever.
You make me work too much and too hard.
You have me doing it all — alone.
You make me jealous of strangers and friends. Their families. Homes. Lives.
You have me wondering day in and day out, "How am I going to do this?"
You make me endure co-parenting, which is another billion levels harder than parenting.
You ask me to put up with BS and heartache.
You made me lose my home.
You made me lose my sanity.
You isolate me.
You have me wondering when I will meet an equal.
You crush my hopes.
Quite frankly divorce, I hate you. I hate you and yet I love you all at the same time.
You made me stronger.
You made me a woman.
You made me learn to take care of me.
You made my career take off.
You made me learn hard lessons and still, you expect the most and best of me.
You shoved an ugly mirror in front of my face to teach me the lessons I needed to learn.
You planted anxiety and grief in my path and expected me to learn a way around it. Why? Because I'm capable.
You made me appreciate every hour with my child.
You help me teach her what it means to succeed, persevere, and move on.