My wife wrote me an email today. I’ve encouraged her to journal and share her thoughts this way. Here are a few of her words…
I think the reality is beginning to set in…. of the realization that I have already lost you a long time ago… our marriage has ceased to exist as it is supposed to since we moved here. The extraordinary lonliness I have talked about is because you had already left- emotionally, sexually, spiritually. No wonder. And now all I am left with are the reminders of our old life, our old marriage. Pictures of a happy couple seem to jeer at me. Our marriage is over, isn’t it?
Our lives have been spiraling down for quite some time. We have both had bouts of depression and anxiety. Until recently, neither of us were willing to confront the elephant in the room. The years I spent trying to be who I wasn’t — trying to live out life as a straight husband — took an incredible toll on us both. My wife developed quite the affinity for her bed. Her parents and my parents asked constantly, “Why is she in the bed all the time.” The kids asked the same thing. EVERYBODY knew something was wrong.
I spent years trying everything in the book to suppress who I was. I was diagnosed ADD, ADHD, Bi-Polar, Depressed, OCD and any other label that would require some med to make you feel better. I gladly went along with a fervent hope that one of these combinations would “work”. That my problem would be solved. Didn’t happen. Things only got worse. I became the very definition of misery and didn’t even know who I was when I looked in the mirror.
Then, when I came out to myself it was like a lightbulb went off. It was like watching the death of that impostor right in front of me. Finally, I was accepting who I was and the depression and anxiety just went away. It was a death that I welcomed. I was tired of that person. I hated who he forced me to become. I was ready to be free and I was.
However, for my wife, this death is not so pleasant. I wonder if it would be easier if I was hit by a truck. At least there would be finality to it. With this hand we’ve been dealt, she gets to experience all the pain of mourning a death with a version of that person right in front of her. It is like she is mourning the person she thought I was that died and now gets to live with the bastard that killed him. Not an easy process for sure.
I just hope that I can help her move past this… to see that it will get better and she will get better.