Nothing left but the funeral

I am angry, tired and frustrated.  Again.  I was ready to pack my bags and walk away this morning till I saw the faces of my two girls.  I am sick of living half a life.  I am angry at myself for being so financially dependent on someone else.  I am angry because I care so much what my children think of me.  In their eyes I've already ruined our celestial family by leaving the church.  To leave their father as well would be, I'm afraid, unforgivable. 

I spent decades seeking and yearning for emotional validation until I finally realized he simply doesn't know how to give it. You can't get water from a rock and it's futile to try. To try for 30 years is sheer stupidity.  When I stopped looking for anything from him I freed myself in a small way.  It's not my fault if he comes home from work in a bad mood.  Silence and brooding have always been his best weapons.  But I don't need to fix it. It is not my problem. I do not need to let it affect me.  I don't need to hear that he loves me or to have a present on a special day.  I don't care any more.  I buy my own presents and flowers. I look after my own emotional and physical needs.

If only making the final cut of divorce were so easy.  I try to picture the words coming out of my mouth.  I try to picture the best time to say them.  I picture what might happen after I say them.  I don't do drama.  I hate big scenes.  I don't want to have to ask my baby girl if she wants to move out with me or stay with her dad.  I used to be so afraid he'd throw me out.  Now I almost wish he would.  It would probably be easier that way.

My friends tell me I should talk to a lawyer.  But who?  And how do I pay them?  So many unknowns.  So many obstacles.  So much of it swirling and clouding my mind.  So much pain for other people just because I want to be happy.