In January 2015, as the NFC championship game played, I made a decision that altered the fate of my children and I, divorce. Before you jump to conclusions about my decision, know that it was two years of fighting with myself to do what I thought was right, stay in a loveless marriage for the sake of my children. In the end, on that fateful Sunday, I walked out of the home I bought eight years back and never looked back.
Immediately following removal from the house around 11:00 am, I drove to a bar/pizza bar and drank myself into a drunken stupor until it closed at 1:30 am. While there, I called my sister, brother and uncle to tell them what I did. All of them were shocked and disbelief, and hearing that I wasn’t myself, my sister drove down to join me at the bar.
I wasn’t hasty in my decision to leave my children by divorcing their mother but no mental health professional could not have prepared me for depression that rushed me like a linebacker in full pursuit of the quarterback.
Staying married for the kids, that is what 1/3 of couples do. Isn’t that sad? Sure, although a sampling, a pretty daunting statistic nonetheless. I was that statistic, thinking me absent of my babies would turn them into children addicted to drugs, lost in societal ways and outright terrible kids. It’s remains to be seen how my kids will turn out