So Long

So Long London

This is it—just a few more weeks, and it’s done. I’m moving out and moving on. While I know this is what needs to happen, the reality of it is hitting me hard. Although the marriage ended years ago, I find myself questioning whether it ever truly began. I remember the good times in the beginning, and thinking we were meant to be together. But were we really?

How can you act like you're completely invested in the relationship one moment and then completely toss it aside when something “better” comes along? How can you leave without even a backward glance? How can someone lack the compassion to provide the love that’s so obviously needed during the hard times? For at least half of our time together, I felt completely left out—excluded from my own marriage. How does that even happen? 

I know it's time to go but it's hard to just walk out the door of the house I've lived in for nearly 20 years—the home where my girls grew up, where I read with them, cuddled them, hosted fashion shows, and countless girls’ nights. I dedicated so much time to caring for and loving this place, yet here I am, preparing to leave. I can’t shake the fear that I’ll walk out and be forgotten, erased from the story, and a life I lived for 30 years.

And it's not like I didn’t try. While he was off exploring the world, I was here, changing diapers, giving bedtime hugs, arranging play dates, and carpooling to dance class. After his many broken bone episodes, I was the one in the hospital, applying bandages and keeping track of medications. I spent countless sleepless nights wondering when I should call search and rescue and many days trying to maintain peace amidst the chaos. And then there were the nights spent on my knees in prayer, sleeping on a hospital room floor, learning how to maneuver a wheelchair in and out of a car.

As the years passed, I often felt exhausted from trying to keep the relationship going. Shouldn’t he just want to be a part of it? I did it all because that’s what love demands, but love can’t thrive in a one-sided relationship. It breaks my heart that this is how it’s ending, but I can’t remain with someone who doesn’t seem to care about any of this. 

Yet, I take solace in knowing I did all I could, and I know how a healthy relationship should be so I won’t make the same mistakes again. It’s taken a long time to reach this point where I can finally leave and reclaim my freedom. I know it’s never the perfect time, but this is as good as it gets. Most people I’ve spoken to about this have reassured me that it will all be fine, and yes, eventually, it will be. But right now? I’m not fine at all. I’m sad. I’m sad I didn’t see the signs sooner, sad I lost so many years, sad that I’m losing an extended family, and sad that he seems indifferent.

I needed to write this truth down, if only to release it. Between articulating my feelings here, talking it through, and listening to Taylor Swift express these emotions so eloquently, I think I’m finally ready to say...

So Long...

"How much sad did you think I had in me?"