Persona Non Grata

I should have realized when he referred to himself as single in a group thread I was part of. That moment, like so many others, was a clue. But I missed it—or maybe I just wasn’t ready to face it.

I should have realized when I told him to wish his family a Happy Thanksgiving and he, in turn, told mine to “fuck off.” It stung, but I rationalized it, thinking he had a right to be angry with me and to disrespect my family. 

I should have realized when I wanted to talk to him about my struggles—about work, about my health—and he brushed me off. “I prefer communicating over text,” he said. No concern. No empathy. Just a curt “thanks for letting me know.”

I should have realized when he showed me affection—a fleeting moment of warmth—only to transform back into the angry, intentionally hurtful man I had come to dread. When I asked why he even bothered, his response was chilling in its simplicity: “I was just having fun.”

I should have realized during our marriage, when almost every day felt like walking on eggshells. My voice was silenced by fear. My energy drained by his selfishness, his manipulation, and his gaslighting.

I should have realized when I was in Portugal, caring for my ailing mother, and I felt his absence—not just physically, but emotionally. I was out of sight, out of mind. Persona non grata in my own marriage.

And yet, I held on. I hoped. I tried.

The moment I finally realized was his birthday. I left him a gift and a card. He opened the gift and thanked me for it, but the card? He threw it in the trash—unopened. That blatant disregard for something so simple yet so meaningful was the final crack in the fragile foundation of my hope. That’s when I knew. There was no saving us. No fighting chance.

Being disregarded—it’s the hardest part of this divorce. Harder than the legal battles or the logistics of separating lives. It’s the feeling that I never mattered. That the last ten years meant nothing. That he never really loved me.

How do you heal from that?

I don’t have the answers yet. Maybe I never will. But sharing this pain, giving it words, feels like a step forward. If you’ve felt this way, you’re not alone. If you’ve questioned your worth because someone made you feel invisible, I see you.

And I promise, we matter. Even when others fail to recognize it, we matter.

With love,
The Not So Common Gal