Why it took me 8 years to admit I'd made a mistake.

When I met him I was in college, just finishing a string of careless relationships (if you can even call them that). He was not interested in careless. And he was very interested in me. We had NOTHING in common. Our styles, tastes in music, fashion sense, political views, intellect, everything about us didn't match. So when he asked me to move in with him after only 6 months, I'm not sure why I said yes. It probably had something to do with the drunken fight I'd had with my insane roommate at the time. And when he proposed to me just 5 months after that, I don't really know why I said yes. Or maybe I do. Maybe because no one ever says no. When a person professes their love to you and claims they want no one else but you to take care of as long as you both shall live, you say yes. And we were already living together.
So I spent the next 10 months planning a wedding I did not want. I enjoyed the planning. It fed my creative side wonderfully. We were already fighting though. Less than a month into our marriage I discovered I was pregnant. I was not ready to be a mother. It was all moving so fast. We told our families on Halloween. November 10th, I spent the night in the bathroom floor bleeding. It was the second worst experience I've ever lived through. He and I decided, perhaps due to the overwhelming grief, that maybe we did want a child and maybe we were ready. Our son was born just 4 days short of our first anniversary.
Becoming parents brought out our differences more than ever. I became more of a mother than a wife and he stayed a husband instead becoming a father. Some of our nights were spent in separate rooms. That didn't prevent our daughter from happening though. We bought a house for our growing family. So 3 years into my marriage I had 2 children, a mortgage, and crippling depression.
It's important that I mention this: at this time in my life, I completely believed in the idea of staying together for the kids. I was very unhappy and only left my bed to go to work, but I was convinced that divorce would be selfish and unforgivably damaging to my children. Aside from that, there was a plethora of other fears such as how I would survive financially, how many other lives would I disrupt, and how could I stand being separated from my children for any amount of time? I kept these thoughts to myself for 5 years.
One day I was talking to a friend about how my mother used to stay in her room while I spent all my time with my dad. At the time I wasn't old enough to understand why she hid away and I felt as though she didn't want to spend time with me. As the words left my mouth, I had an epiphany. I'd been in my room for years. Maybe my children were missing me too. I realized then that I would be a better mother if I were happy. I was out of my marriage within a few months.
My children and I are very happy now. Their father and I have equal custody which has given them a much more stable outlook on divorce and their father more of a chance to be a father. No one should be in a situation that hinders their ability to be a good parent. We didn't work and we both know it. So it took me 8 years to realize I should not have agreed to get married not only to someone I knew I wasn't compatible with but at all before I was ready. It's hard to have regret when your life turns out well and you have two beautiful children as a result, but learning from the mistakes is always a possibility.