Married life...

One year into the marriage we had a son together.  He was happy he had a son, I was happy I was able to give him a son.  Years had passed with problems growing until he chose to be physically separated in the house.  I slept upstairs, he slept downstairs.  There was no conversation.  He worked late, I would feed the kids and busy myself with them.  He has a very short fuse and a loud voice.  The fuse seemed shorter with my daughter.  He seemed to expect her to act like an adult.  No matter what she did it never seemed to be good enough for him.  The house was called a shit hole, the word stupid was often used when yelling at my daughter.  He was never physically abusive but the mental abuse was worse.  Personally I'd rather someone hit and get it over and done with.  Words cut like a knife, they dig their way into your soul and push you down deeper every time they pop back into your head.  Half the time he didn't even remember what he said.  The tension could have been cut with a knife.  Then came the day I said "I think we should separate".  It was a shock to him and a load off my shoulders.  That statement said volumes.  It verified the problems in the relationship, it said that neither of us was happy and it was light at the end of the tunnel for me.  I remember the day well.......