I read somewhere that a long marriage is two people trying to dance a duet and two solos at the same time. Sometimes, I guess the dance just degenerates into a painful series of stepped-on toes and mistimed moves. And when counseling and compromising don’t work, the painful decision of letting go and moving on has to be made.

I'm sure my husband would agree that our marriage fell apart years ago. But it was only after the kids moved away to college and we were both left under the same roof alone that I realized I couldn’t do it anymore.

The final decision to divorce my husband was something I mulled over for months. I dreaded telling the kids, but when I finally did, my daughter hugged me and said, "I admire you so much for all the years you tried to hold on. I’m amazed that you didn’t do this sooner."  

I don’t regret all those years gone by because there were some good times and there were, of course, my children. But I don’t want to spend any more time looking back.

I now wake up in the mornings in happy anticipation about what the day will bring, I take pleasure in dressing well, I dine out regularly with friends and I’ve even joined a yoga class. I haven’t started dating again but, who knows, maybe I will.
 
More than anything else, the feeling of freedom, of enormous relief, is overwhelming – it's like I had been living in darkness, in the shadow of a bad marriage, and I have now broken free to step into the light and find myself in the sun again.