I ran across this quote yesterday, and it stuck with me. Because this separation has felt, at times, like a part of me is dying. The part of me that wanted this: marriage, family, security, partnership. That part of me screams sometimes, begging to live.
This is appreciably easier for me, knowing that I am leaving a dangerous and terrible situation. A friend of mine is getting a divorce, only she adored her husband. He just decided he wanted a younger woman. So the pain she feels is different from mine. She can seek comfort in the fact that she did everything she could, but she doesn't have the satisfaction or responsibility of choice. I am choosing to leave. The consequences of my choice are mine, and I can't shoulder off that blame on him. My husband has told me many times that he would welcome me back, that he wants me home. She wants to go home, but can't.
The finality sets on me at times. I gave my husband a tremendous gift. I am never going to be single again; I'll be divorced. I will never get to dream about having children someday with a man I care about; I already have children. I am not going to be able to go back to college and just be a student, or take a spontaneous trip, or even go somewhere for coffee without serious planning first; I will always be a mother first. I'm not lamenting my children. I am lamenting that I am jaded and worn. The things that I would have wanted to give a future partner, my newness and naivety and undivided attention, will always belong to him. In this way, he has a part of me. And that is the part that I need to let go and grieve.
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