Maybe
my ex-husband's 30th birthday and grieving what could have been
My ex-husband turns 30 tomorrow.
We got together at 18 and 19.
I finally got away from his abuse when I was 27.
I will be 29 this year.
I don’t know what I want to get out of this essay. Processing through writing, bearing witness to my grief, anger, heartbreak.
Yes, still heartbreak.
Heartbreak for the sweet, hopeful, naive girl who walked down the wedding aisle at 21 like a lamb to the slaughter; thinking that enough love could fix anything, and that if she worked hard enough, she could earn in return the love she so freely gave.
I poured everything I was— everything I had, everything I could become— into that relationship. I twisted myself into knots and hacked away the parts of myself he didn’t like. He told me to be more gentle, softer spoken, so I was. He told me I wasn’t assertive enough, so I tried to be more assertive. Then he told me I was too aggressive and called me a terrible communicator. There was no winning with him.
I love birthdays, and I go all out for them. I love celebrating my people, giving thanks for the day that brought them into this world. He knows that birthdays are deeply meaningful to me. Even after we separated, I still helped the kids get birthday and Father’s Day gifts for him. I have never received a Mother’s Day gift from him. Not one time.
I can count on one hand how many times he celebrated my birthday or got me a card, flowers, gift, anything. We were together 9 years. Every year that he “forgot” to get me something, I bought myself something. This is how we ended up with a new (used) bed, a new TV, memory foam topper, bed frames, etc. I say bought myself like he didn’t also directly benefit from these “gifts.” I took them in the divorce. Why shouldn’t I have. They were bought to make up for his refusal to celebrate my birthday.
I was planning on throwing him a big party for his 30th with all his friends, our families. If the pattern had held, we would have welcomed a 3rd child last September, and a 4th would have arrived in June 2026. 5, 3, 20 months, newborn. Stair steps.
I won’t ever go back, but I think I will always wish it could have been different.
To have had a foundation built on mutual respect and trust instead of my servitude in the bedroom and out of it. To stand on equal footing and actively parent together. To be met with compassion instead of scorn when my feelings were hurt. To be heard, trusted. To be seen. To be both held and free. To just be fucking liked. To not be blamed and criticized for everything. To not have to defend everything I said with peer reviewed journals just for him to call it a conspiracy and treat me like an idiot.
I tried so hard to make it work that it almost cost me my life.
In another universe, maybe he wouldn’t have been so broken that he had to tear me apart to make himself feel better.
Maybe he would have made wiser decisions around substances due to the presence of addiction in his family. Maybe he wouldn’t have become an alcoholic and addict.
Maybe he wouldn’t be so selfish and entitled that he would have respected that no is a complete sentence. Maybe the words, “it was your fault. you should have used your big girl voice” would never have left his mouth.
Maybe he wouldn’t have cheated so many times. Maybe he wouldn’t have cheated at all.
Maybe he would have used his hands and words to love me instead of hit me, choke me, rip me to shreds, threaten me, raise his fist at me, tell me I was lucky to be married to him because anyone else, including his dad, would have beaten me senseless.
Maybe there would be no holes in the doors and walls.
Maybe we wouldn’t all still flinch when a door shuts too hard.
Maybe we could have been happy, whole, a family.
Maybe he wouldn’t have broken every promise he ever made me.
Maybe the ring his mom gave him, because he couldn’t be bothered to buy one for me, wouldn’t be sitting in a box, never to be worn again. It was aquamarine, her birthstone. I added sapphires, my birthstone, and diamonds, my daughter’s. I was going to give it to her one day, our first family heirloom.
Maybe our children could have had two parents who love them.
Maybe even I could have been loved.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe…
If you or someone you love is trapped in an abusive relationship, there are resources that can help. You deserve love that doesn’t require you to twist yourself into a form you no longer recognize. You deserve healing and compassion. To be both held and free. You deserve peace, and to never have to argue with another human being about why your needs matter, or that you deserve basic human decency ever again.
AimeeSays is an AI companion trained to recognize coercive control. You can describe a scenario and she will provide a summary and identify abusive tactics. This was incredibly helpful to me in the beginning, when I was so conditioned to accept my ex husband’s abuse that I couldn’t explain why a scenario felt wrong, just that it felt icky.
My beautiful subscribers, you are all in 46 different countries, and I don’t want to leave anyone out. Enter your country/region into this search engine and find resources available near you: https://findahelpline.com. There are a multitude of organizations out there, including tailored resources for additionally marginalized communities.
In my research, I also came across this hotline for deaf individuals experiencing abuse, and I wanted to include it here.
The Deaf Hotline:
Call: 855-812-1001
Love, peace, healing, and joy to you all.
Sarah
You can also buy me a coffee by clicking here. Your support means so much to me. Thank you.
I don't know you and I just came across this post -- all I can think of is how fortunate your children are that YOU gave yourself permission to make different choices than the familiar. Because of that, they stand a chance.
For myself, it was so long ago that I left my abusive ex of seven years. No children. But I know so many women close to my heart who have not made the tough choices you have -- and tough choices they are.
But what's the alternative?! A life devoted to degradation and misery? Perhaps now you and your children can exhale...
The could have beens! Oh how they never end! And always rooted in illusion. As an ex addict, I know THAT one well, too.
I would love to stay connected and connect you with a I know, Simply Sarah, whose parenting differently has changed her daughter's trajectory forever.
All I can say, congratu-fucking-lations! You've done what so many choose not. And I, a total stranger to you on the Internet, FULLY support you 💯
I can tell you’re an amazing young woman, and I’m so looking forward to reading along as you heal and bloom.
Proud to share a first name with you, too :) It means “princess,” but I like to think of it as meaning “woman who deserves love, respect, and good treatment - which includes being listened to.”