To watch your wife happily move her things out with a bunch of strangers isn't a pleasant experience.
Awkward, yes. But also, just a reminder of how much the world I thought I lived in was not real. Communication is such a powerful and important tool to establish community and relationships, but just because you are talking, doesn't mean you are communicating.
She finally has a low-wage job. Yes, I bought her a car. Yes, I'm willingly giving her money each month to help support her decision to leave me so she can actually survive outside the security of the home I created for us.
Pain, despair, fear, and embarrassment. I'm wrestling with them all as I still do not know why she choosing to destroy her family. All I have to cling to is that there will be a better tomorrow without her here. Thus far, it's mixed, though most of my hope lies in the support and encouragement of our church leadership, who seem to think there is a chance she may come back when healed.
I'm praying I can endure the biological and psychological ramifications of severing this emotional connection with her, and as of yet, I have been able to manage it.
The kids? My precious daughters? They don't get why their mother is leaving, and I'm trying to minimize the collateral damage. The teaching we've given them — the teaching I've received and thoroughly believe based on living it out for decades — are currently being rejected due to the level of pain their mother has experienced. When they ask why she let this go so long and not change up her communication with me, to help me understand the weight of her wrestlings, I have no answers — just a simple request to love her during this time, no matter the direction the future takes between us.
She will have them 2 to 3 days a week on her days off, but they don't like being shuffled around. More damage control to manage.
What does the future hold for us? I don't know. I'm still trying to figure out how I can love her again. Hopefully, after a few months of separation, I will receive some clarity.
— Micah