I love you, and have loved you without reservation for 25 years. We have had our joys, our sadness and our issues to address. The last couple of years have not been easy.
But I have been resolute about making "us" work; I continue to be willing to work on us, which I admit in most cases means "me." I'm not perfect, and my goal is to meet your expectations.
I find again that you have moved into the "its not going to work" mode. I'm not changing enough, not doing enough. I'm a failure, I get that. But where's the middle ground? Where's the part where we discuss issues before we start planning to leave? I missed that part.
In fact, that part wasn't there. You've been holding in anger and apparently a lot of disappointment, and a "final straw" unleashed its fury. I never saw it coming.
You slept last night on the couch, and you're there again. The kids aren't sure what to make of it. I expect they'll find out soon enough that you're moving, and they can come with you or stay with me.
Why does it have to come to this?
With all my heart, I know -- I KNOW -- that we are better together, and we are stronger as a couple and a family. How will leaving improve things?
So now I'm left wondering as I write: Will your heart soften enough to consider talking about moving forward? What will life look like on my own?
I know time will tell. I have so much hurt, so many tears ... even anger inside. I don't understand, and that's probably one of the problems you face -- my inability to see what's wrong.
We've come to this point several times in the past, but this is different; that difference scares me. How do I find who I am when I lose my family? What is left to live for?
I don't know, I just don't know.
Let's talk about it ... please?
Until then, I remain on the sidelines of life as --
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