They say heartbreak is painful. But I didn't realise just how painful it would be until I had to go through it myself. Painful is an understatement. It's indescribable agony. Excruciating torture. Absolute hell.

It's nothing like I'd ever felt before.

"I want a divorce."

I can still hear his words spiralling through my head, threatening to suffocate me, pushing me deeper and deeper into an endless pit of despair.

Four simple words. And everything changes forever.

Why? I keep questioning myself. Why wasn't I good enough? I did everything I could do to be the perfect wife. Everything. I was so blinded by love that I didn't even see the signs that our marriage was falling apart. Until it was too late and the divorce papers were thrust into my hands, leaving me isolated and alone, entrapped within myself and only my dark, sombre thoughts for company.

Why me?

I'd like to say that some days it's easier than others. That sometimes, the weight is lifted a little off my chest and I can breathe. But it's not. Every day I wake up to the same thoughts, the same crushing feelings of solitude and hopelessness. Every day I am being engulfed by my grief. Every day I'm reliving that moment again and again and again.

And it's never going to stop.

When I want to put on a facade in front of others, try to be brave and hide how I'm feeling, I can't do it. Uncontrollable torrents of tears wildly surge out of me and my chest racks and heaves with violent, heavy sobs. I feel hands on my shoulders, comforting voices in my ears but I block it all out. I can't focus on anything but the pain.

It's too much for one soul to handle.

Too much.

But when I'm alone and I want to cry, I want to let everything out in the privacy of my own company, no tears come. I sit on my bed motionless, staring at a blank wall, my eyes scratched red and sore with dark, heavy bags beneath them. But they're completely dry.

I wait.

Seconds. Minutes. Hours.

But not a single tear trickles out of my swollen ducts. Not one.

It's times like these that can sometimes be worse than the pain. When I can't feel any sadness or anguish or suffering.

I just feel... empty.

A cold, dark void swallowing me up into nothing.

Sometimes, I let myself be enveloped into the darkness's familiar embrace. Sometimes I fight it. But fighting it is always too hard. I don't have the energy left to fight anymore.

It's easier to give up.

Today is a new day. I wake up. I wait for the pain, the aching in my chest, the torment that I know is coming for me like every other day.

But it doesn't come.

Today is not the same as every other day. I don't know what it is but I feel different. I finally manage to put my finger on it. It's a flicker of hope kindling in my heart. I desperately grab onto the rare emotion and wrap it tightly around myself before it slips away from my grasp. This is the first time after the divorce that I have ever felt something good. It's only a small feeling, but to me, it feels like paradise.

I latch onto the cinder of hope as it begins to grow from an ember to a blazing flame. Now it flares up inside of me, burning brightly like a great bonfire. Hope merges with resilience and bravery and strength and suddenly, everything is different.

I feel powerful. Powerful enough to do anything.

I can't let this divorce ruin my life. I can't succumb to its power. Or else it wins.

He wins.

I have to prove to him that he didn't break me. That I will emerge from this stronger and braver and bolder.

I get out of bed and race towards the kitchen. I grab the sharpest knife I can find and tuck it into my waistband, concealing it with my shirt. He didn't break me.

But I will break him.

***

Written in Oct 2019