Burdens

Today has been an interesting day on the internet. This morning I read this wonderful interview with a woman whose husband came out of the closet and divorced her. Then, later in the day, I read this article about man who came out of the closet, began divorce proceedings, was excommunicated, and committed suicide. It was interesting to read about two very similar situations that met with such completely different ends. The blessing and the curse of the Church seems to be the fact that it is made up of individuals. As individuals we all have the opportunity every day to make the world around us a kinder, more compassionate place, and it makes my heart break when I see people not doing that (myself included). No matter what someone has done, they should never feel as though their only option is to end their own life.

These articles also piqued my interest because of what is going on in my life right now. Back in February, Mr. Fob went on a business trip for a week. I started wondering what was going on when he forgot to call us at night because he was having too much fun there. And then when he got home, he was distant and moody and not happy in the least to see me. Finally after about a week he told me that he had realized that he wanted a divorce and that he was no longer happy in the life we were leading. I'll admit that my first reaction that night was relief, mostly because of the anxiety I had been feeling during the weeks up to that point. I also had a strange feeling of 'otherness' in my initial reaction; as though the words I were saying weren't coming from me directly. I could hear myself saying things, while still be aware that they were strange things for me to say. It was very odd.

Needless to say, after our initial talk I spent several months cycling through disbelief, bargaining, and anger. I tried coming up with the magic words that would somehow change the situation and make things better. We went on a few trips together, even some just by ourselves, and that did nothing for our relationship. I came to realize that love is a decision you have to make every day, and when you stop deciding to love, then the relationship dies.

Mr. Fob is in the process of moving out of our home right now. Next week we sign the papers and file them. It still feels unreal in some ways; this is not the life I thought I was getting. Right now I feel like I am trying to figure out where to go next. I'm negotiating the lines between compassion and codependence, acceptance and numbness, anger and fear and peace. Every hour is different, but at the same time I know deep down inside that I will be all right. I don't know what that means yet, but I do know it.