Anger
- The Split Prayer
- Sep 27
- 4 min read
How could you do this to me!? I say these words to myself. Never another soul around to feel my anger. You sucked me in and then spit me out when it was no longer convenient. Intentional or not, that’s how it feels. You asked me to tell you I love you. I wanted so badly to say it for so long, but didn’t want to open myself up to this kind of heartbreak.
But I did it.
I did it because I believed this could be our chance. Finally, our chance.
Repeatedly you told me to leave. You told me I deserved better. To choose you. I was working on figuring it out! You were so sure you were going to leave, and you wanted to take me with you. Once I realized I couldn’t live without you, I started putting it into motion. Honestly, my “fair shot” wasn’t ever going to fix my marriage. I knew that. I never said it out loud. But when I’m honest with my wife about anything, all it does is expose the massive cracks in our marriage—the cracks that show how different we are. Cracks that don’t just get patched. But I still had to go through the motions.
All the while, you kept asking, “How is it going?” That question led me to believe you were ready when I was. It didn’t take me long. I was ready. And now I’m left here, trying to recover from that readiness.
I feel completely used. I feel like you used me to prop up your failing marriage. To provide you with the love you needed. The attention you desired. During this terrible time in your marriage, you willingly took all the love I could possibly give, and I had so much more I wanted so badly to give you. You knew you could run to me. You knew I would be your crutch and I would love you.
Don’t get me wrong—I was happy to be a steady rock in all the chaos. I always wanted to be that rock. The place you could come back to and get the things you desired, the love and adoration you craved. Your home. I was ready to really do this. I allowed you to be my crutch as well. But now I’m out in the cold. No crutch, and a marriage that went from flatlined to worse. The worst part is that in the process I trusted you to safeguard my heart. The heart that opened itself completely to you.
I saved nothing for myself emotionally.
I opened myself up to this heartbreak.
When we would try to back away, we would say our long loving goodbyes. I love you so much and would honor those goodbyes, just like I’m going to now. No matter how bad it hurt, I didn’t care. I still don’t care how bad it hurts. I was dealing with all this pain, and you were worth it.
But then came the “I’m weak” messages. And again, I loved you so much I couldn’t ignore them. I would never ignore them. I wanted so badly to be there for you, to be everything for you, that I could never turn away. I couldn’t. And there I was, sucked back in. Willingly, but still sucked back in.
I’m so angry with myself. I’m so angry that I didn’t treat you better from the beginning 14 years ago. I know you say you don’t remember, but I do. It haunts me. It makes me sick to my stomach that I might never get an opportunity to make up for that. I have so many regrets about our past. I hate regrets. I hate that I may never be able to make up for them.
I’m angry that I didn’t grab onto you nine years ago and never let you go. I’m angry that I didn’t grab onto you seven years ago and never let you go. Through all this, I saw what life could have been like. A life filled with love and passion, dreaming together, building together. And I’m angry that I allowed this to happen all those years ago.
I’m not going to go too deep into this one. I just want to touch on how I’m angry that he gets you. That you were treated so poorly for so long—hurt time and time again. And yet you’re still there, fighting for it. That’s all. I won’t go deeper into it. But I am jealous and angry about it.
I’ve said before, and I’ll follow it up with this: I really do pray constantly that he changes his ways. That he is actively changing his ways. That you are safe, and loved, and that your marriage is turning into something special. You are worthy of that and so deserving.
How can you just turn it off? I’m angry that you can, and I’m stuck here, torn apart with a marriage that day by day gets infinitely harder to face. How could you say the things you said to me not long ago, and then like a switch got flipped, expect me to act like none of that mattered? Like none of it was real. Expected to go from one day telling you how much I love you and you doing the same, to a few friendly messages here and there.
Behind every single “I’m so happy for you,” “I’m so proud of you,” or even every “Good morning” reply when you would initiate, was a heart behind that screen absolutely crying out for you. Silently begging for you to notice me. For you to at least acknowledge that through my pain, I was still trying to play my part for you.
I guess misery really does love company. Because I’m angry that you aren’t here with me—miserable—us trying to figure this out together.
I needed to tell you that I do feel anger over this. I need you to know the full story because these might be the last things I ever say to you. I also need you to know it never escalates into rage or gets out of control. It stays as anger—sharp and painful—but controlled inside me. Never destructive to the people around me.
It also subsides quickly. Just a quick flash and then it’s gone.
The love I have for you is too powerful. And I won’t allow the anger to ruin the beauty of it all
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