What She Wore: blue jeans, navy blue sweat shirt, white t-shirt, navy blue tennis shoes.
I write this after a sleepless night of composing it in my head.
I feel somehow as if I failed you tonight. Did you want to talk about it? I have no idea. K told me you filed the papers, so I guess it’s official. Divorce. Maybe you did want to talk about it, but there was no way that I could. Perhaps I monopolized the conversation with boring baby stuff–I knew what I was doing, but there was no way I could get into the whole thing. I would have started crying, and nothing ruins a party like crying. Nothing.
In so many ways, I am in mourning. I am grieving over this situation. No longer having the two of you together is like taking out a piece of myself and my history. Although there is no logical way to explain this, the shedding of this relationship feels like the throwing off of me as well. You never let me know what you were feeling or thinking. You’ve shut me and everyone else out. It’s as if your life from before is no longer good enough. I know you are leaving your husband, but where does that leave the rest of us? Where does that leave me?
Logically, I know you are protecting all of us from this, and I am thankful for that because there is no way I could possibly pick a side. Even though I know that you need to talk to someone, I already feel way too deep into the middle. I’m sure you have a litany of reasons why your marriage isn’t working, but I can’t listen to them. Somehow I feel wrong knowing your thoughts an feelings when maybe he doesn’t. How can I face him and talk to him? What if I let something slip that you haven’t told him? I just want to run and hide from it. The clear solution would be to not speak to either of you, or to "pick sides." Both options leave me feeling empty. Dinners together, nights out drinking, always sharing a room on road trips. . .all of those things are over.
Saying all of this is, in no way, an attempt to take away from what you’re going through. To me, the single life is one scary-ass proposition after nine years with the same person. The idea of dating alone fills me with dread. I’ve lived alone when the Hub was away and coming home to an empty place night after night can be very lonely. I know that you wouldn’t put yourself through this if you weren’t really unhappy in your current situation. Even so, I am sad for you that you no longer want to be married. Really, really sad. And I am so worried about the two of you. Worried that this thing will damage you both. Worried about the kind of emotional wreckage that is inevitabale in these cases.
Why can’t I say these things in person? Why do the thoughts keep me up at night, but I’m not able to pick up the phone and call? I have no idea.
All I can say is. . . I’m sorry.