My wife and I started to talk about how the separation process is going to work. I don't think any amount of time could prepare me for even just the 10 or 15 minutes that we talked. My brain kept short-circuiting as the reality had set in that we would need to prepare for the logistical consequences and aftermath.
We talked about how each of us would take turns with the kids' evening routine, including dinner, playtime, bathtime and bedtime... while the other leaves the house and makes themselves scarce. Up until now, the ritual for bedtime is we would each take turns with a kid for one night, and swap the following night. The kids were good with this as they loved us both. It was honestly my favorite time of my day and what I looked forward to every night - spending time one-on-one with one of my kids, which is rare any other time of day as they both vie for your attention. That's gone now.
It feels so surreal to be planning this out. I feel like I'm planning a vacation. When planning a vacation you know that even though there will be a disruption in normal routine, you also know you'll be coming home and things will eventually get back to normal. But for this they won't. We're moving towards something bigger. I will eventually not be there to put the kids to bed some nights. There's no going back to normal, and my kids will be forced to adjust because of my addiction and dishonesty.
My therapist told me today that my kids could really grow and flourish still in the midst of all of this. Perhaps they can see how a model divorced couple should be, where we love them and still treat each other as human beings. Perhaps they can see my journey and recovery and, as they get older, perhaps they can find strength in my resilience through my failures.
It's hard to see that far ahead. It's hard not seeing my kids hating me for this. I let my kids down so early in their lives.
I'm a wreck. My wife, on the other hand, seems so strong with so much resolve. She was emotionless, as I realized I have been to her for so many years. Before our conversation ended, through tears I asked her, "We're not going to be friends, are we?" I don't know why I asked her, because based on her demeanor and the way she carefully worded things, I didn't want to know the answer. I knew I hurt her so bad, and I was trash.
She surprised me with her answer: "I hope we can be."
Now I feel worse. I haven't unpacked why. I just do. I should feel better, right? I think there was no answer to my question that would have made me feel better.
We talked about how each of us would take turns with the kids' evening routine, including dinner, playtime, bathtime and bedtime... while the other leaves the house and makes themselves scarce. Up until now, the ritual for bedtime is we would each take turns with a kid for one night, and swap the following night. The kids were good with this as they loved us both. It was honestly my favorite time of my day and what I looked forward to every night - spending time one-on-one with one of my kids, which is rare any other time of day as they both vie for your attention. That's gone now.
It feels so surreal to be planning this out. I feel like I'm planning a vacation. When planning a vacation you know that even though there will be a disruption in normal routine, you also know you'll be coming home and things will eventually get back to normal. But for this they won't. We're moving towards something bigger. I will eventually not be there to put the kids to bed some nights. There's no going back to normal, and my kids will be forced to adjust because of my addiction and dishonesty.
My therapist told me today that my kids could really grow and flourish still in the midst of all of this. Perhaps they can see how a model divorced couple should be, where we love them and still treat each other as human beings. Perhaps they can see my journey and recovery and, as they get older, perhaps they can find strength in my resilience through my failures.
It's hard to see that far ahead. It's hard not seeing my kids hating me for this. I let my kids down so early in their lives.
I'm a wreck. My wife, on the other hand, seems so strong with so much resolve. She was emotionless, as I realized I have been to her for so many years. Before our conversation ended, through tears I asked her, "We're not going to be friends, are we?" I don't know why I asked her, because based on her demeanor and the way she carefully worded things, I didn't want to know the answer. I knew I hurt her so bad, and I was trash.
She surprised me with her answer: "I hope we can be."
Now I feel worse. I haven't unpacked why. I just do. I should feel better, right? I think there was no answer to my question that would have made me feel better.
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