I’ll be doing OK, and then something will happen, and my bubble of denial pops, and I am confronted once again with the fact that my marriage is over. The eHarmony app on Bill’s phone. The printout of “Your Guide to Separation and Divorce” in the minivan. His casual, “I hope we can stay friends, but I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”
Seventeen years. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health… Now that it looks like “for better” is finally here, I am no longer good enough. It feels like a slap in the face. Another proof of what a failure I am.
Some day, I will make my peace with what my life turned out to be. But today, and tomorrow, and as far into the future as I can see, I am just broken.