There are a lot of things we like to think about ourselves...opinions so to speak. It's very hard to accept that we cannot be what we perceive ourselves to be, and it's even tougher to accept that others might not see us as we would like them to. We work hard at creating our own image.
So you can figure it was tough for me to accept that the life I had built, the person I had become was gone. The rebuilding process was underway. I had always seen myself as a good, decent, loving husband. I worked hard at it. I was now separating from someone who'd become hateful and hurtful; and the venom was not only aimed at me. She'd made a policy of creating hurt among others close to her. The hard part was, when someone becomes like that, we typically dismiss them from our lives. I don't believe that her transformation was something she'd wanted to undertake, but she'd fallen in and out of depression, also suffered from (something we found out later) manic-depression. It was hard to walk away from someone who was ill, but I had to respect her wish for me to go, and also to protect myself.
Philosophically, I needed to come to grips with it. But as a person, I had to say, "Enough is enough." It wasn't my responsibility nor my obligation to be the object of her scorn and hatred. You can only kick the most loyal dog so many times, you know?
I had three kids to worry about. That would become my sole focus. I could rededicate myself as a father. I'd be virtually free to build relationships with my kids individually as well as a group, and they'd finally be able to see me as who I was. And they'd be free to make their own judgment of me, form their own opinions. While we were no longer one family, that wasn't necessarily bad: my kids now had two families, and I was determined to make mine the very best it could be.
It's funny that you think you're beyond being able to cry though.