This past year and a half has been tough. My husband and I have been to hell and back. We’re still making random visits…
I won’t get into the nitty gritty at this point. Suffice it to say it has been the most difficult period of my life. I’m pretty sure Michael would say the same. At certain points we’ve lived moment to moment…day to day…week to week. We’ve survived.
There have been times when we have both wanted to walk away, to give in, to say goodbye. We’re still here.
I don’t think divorce is failure. When two people recognize that a relationship is no longer serving either one, I think that’s wise, mature…compassionate even. What I cannot abide is when we let our egos get in the way.
There have been some hurtful things that have flown between us. The question was: are we going to take these as true attacks or see them as the calls for love they really are? We chose the latter.
This is not a post about how amazing my partner and I are. This is a post about perseverance…about putting love first.
My big lesson this lifetime appears to be letting go of romance. I thought I was supposed to be adored, revered, endlessly complimented. I am beginning to accept a new ideal. I am who I am and I have a partner who respects that. He respects me, helps me, loves me and makes me laugh. I do the same for him. We’re in this together until it no longer makes sense.
And when he’s in pain, I am here. I am here to tend to his wounds, to give him space, to let him go.
And when he’s confused, I am here. I am here to listen, to lament, to let him go.
And when he’s ready, I am here. I am here to welcome him back. For him I’ll wait.
Because I look within and it’s still him. It is.
And as long as I still tend my own wounds, find friends to listen and take the space I need then we’re good.
And when I’m confused or in pain, I know where he’ll be. I know for me he’d wait.