I have told him I want a separation. I’ve moved into the guest bedroom. Every step I take away from him he is a bewildered little boy, not understanding how this could happen to him. Whatever he’s wondering, it’s been happening a year and a half. I feel I’ve told him every step of the way what his behavior would lead to. But inevitably, according to him, it’s my entire fault.
He says my internal system doesn’t communicate well enough. (Well, god damn, why didn’t he just say so and I would have fixed it already!)
He says he only married one of us; he didn’t bargain for the plural lifestyle.
He says I take him for granted.
He says other things, but I don’t remember what they are. I ask him to write them down. He says no.
I know he feels alone. He has alluded to suicide several times. I doubt my decision to leave sometimes. I keep asking myself if it’s really that bad that I would betray the covenant I swore before God. The only reason it’s not bad right now is because we aren’t really talking. But it is that bad.
I’m grasping at straws for how to cope. The negative thoughts slink back in, wanting me to hurt myself some way or another, some way to be able to catch my breath and fill this hole in my heart. Anything to numb out. Any way to make myself think of something else. I would very much like to melt away.