By Michael Harris
April 28, 2025

I’ve been trying to leave her for four years. The idea of divorce has been on my mind long before I even walked down the aisle. But every time I try to make the break, she knows exactly what to say. Just the right words, the ones that pull me back in, make me think that maybe, just maybe, we can fix things. That maybe things will get better if I just stay a little longer. So I stay. I stay, and I let myself be convinced, even though it always feels like a lie, like I’m just waiting for the moment when the thread will snap.

But that moment never comes. It’s like I’m trapped in a loop of the same arguments, the same pain, the same uncertainty. Every day feels like walking on eggshells. She accuses me of things I haven’t done, questions my every move, and makes me feel like I’m constantly on the defense. It’s exhausting. There’s no peace, no calm. Just a constant hum of anxiety buzzing in my head, and I can’t escape it.

And then, the words she says—words that pierce deeper than anything else—are the ones that haunt me the most. She tells me I deserve to be dead. She says she’ll cheat on me. I can’t even wrap my head around why anyone would say that to someone they supposedly love. It’s the kind of thing that just crushes any ounce of hope I had left. But then, after the chaos and the anger, she’ll turn around and apologize, and suddenly everything’s okay for a moment. She knows how to make me think that this time, it will really get better.

But it never does. It’s always a temporary fix, a band-aid on a wound that refuses to heal. And the truth is, I’m scared. I’m scared of what will happen if I walk away. I’m scared of how she’ll react, of the guilt I’ll feel, of what everyone will think. This is my second divorce, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m just doomed to repeat the same mistakes.

But the pain is unbearable. The anxiety is a constant companion. I can’t live like this anymore. Every minute spent with her feels like a minute lost to anguish. It’s not love anymore. It’s survival. And I don’t want to survive like this.

So here I am, once again, on the edge of a decision I’ve been avoiding for years. Do I keep trying to fix something that’s broken beyond repair, or do I finally walk away, even if it means dealing with the heartbreak, the guilt, and the shame? I don’t know. But I do know one thing: I can’t keep living like this.