Marriage is a weird thing.

I pushed my husband in his chest while mouthing, “I hate you.” Our son was innocently playing underneath us. When our 3-year-old gets angry and makes the same face, I wonder, does he sense or actually see my rage? Maybe I am not as good at hiding it as I thought I was.

My husband didn’t push back. He would never do that. He just said: “Okay, we can finalize a divorce first thing when we get back,” stone cold.

I stormed out of the room, walked downstairs, and out of the front door barefoot. It was supposed to be a fun weekend getaway. We were staying at an isolated cabin in Missouri. I walked over grass into a field of hay bales, sat my ass down, and started crying like a wounded animal.

The last time I remember hurting like that was when my dad walked out on me when I was 13. Sounds unknown to me were coming out of my throat. My face grimaced to the point of pain. Tears were coming on in waves. I was breathing hysterically until my head got dizzy without enough oxygen. My heart was torn out, chewed up, spit out, stepped on, and then shit on. Rolling onto a nail that went through my shin didn’t hurt like this—scraping my knee bloody on a bed of rocks, who cares. No physical pain can compare to his words.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. How could he? I gave him everything. I have moved endless times to be with him. I buy food that I don’t like for him. I want my son to be like him. I always try to put his needs before my own. He is a selfish son of a bitch. I hate him. The rage makes me feel righteous for a minute, and then the pain comes back on.

I love him.

I love him, and that’s why those words hurt so bad. I have always loved him. Even when the bickering of a 5-year marriage progressively increases, I always knew he was the one. I did not settle. He is or was the right person for me.

I watch the storm unfold somewhere in the distance over the fields. How could something so beautiful be the place of such incredible pain? Why did this have to happen in this field?

I don’t know how long it’s been. No one came looking for me. I walk back, and he is sitting on the balcony. “Hey.”

“Hey, will you come down here? We need to talk.” His buddies scatter. I explained to him how much I was hurting and that the only explanation I had was because I loved him so much. Still, we fight. I am attacking, and he is defending. I feel like he doesn’t hear anything I am saying. I try to speak from my heart, and all I hear is how he did the dishes just yesterday.

I am back to I hate you. I slap him. I hit like a girl, it hurts my hand, and it seems like it didn’t hurt him at all. I want to hurt him, I want him to hurt like me. I want him to feel my pain. I break down crying again because I feel helpless.

The next day I feel numb. All those emotions depleted my energy. I have nothing left. I am appalled by my actions and the strong feelings of hate for the one love of my life. I don’t know what’s next. Is there anything to do? Is there someone to see? Who can I talk to about this? Or do we go back to dishes, laundry, and cutting the grass like nothing happened?