That’s the real question isn’t it? I didn’t know this would be my destination when I started down this road, so I am totally at a loss as to what I should do next. Can’t even make an educated guess let alone devise intricate plans with back-ups to my back-ups to help determine the precise logical steps I should take. I’ve lost magnetic north. Been cast adrift. Zero insight into a dark corner of the universe I desperately need to see. Desperately need to feel.
Fear and focus are the new watchwords for this self-empowered status quo. I’ve never felt further away from the life I need while at the same time more capable of becoming the husband and father I should have been years ago. Frustration should join the list of F-Words. Fate can jump in to lend a hand, too. Freedom? I’m working on it.
What I don’t want to be is pedantic or pessimistic. One fatal flaw I’ve been able to avoid and the other I’m putting to death even as we speak. That said, optimism should only be rewarded once it’s been earned.
Maybe I haven’t earned it? I’m pretty sure I haven’t. Not yet. A couple weeks of pain and suffering at the end of several months of slow transcendence are hardly equal to more than a decade of patiently waiting for me to change with undying loyalty to an undefined ideal. Standing in the gap between love and madness for such a long, lonely time couldn’t have been easy. Thankless as well, adding insult to injury.
My one remaining hope is that by accepting the reality of the family I lost and the part I played in its demise, I can provide a small measure of relief from the pain I caused. Perhaps the only thing I can do now is allow the woman I love the space she needs to finally heal and move on? Closure might be the only gift I have left to give, but I don’t want to believe it.
I have no choice, though. I must admit the sad possibility of that ultimate end and enfold it within my new reality. Acceptance is a moving target, but I’m trying. I’m letting her go. Tragically. Painfully. Finally. Letting her go. Maybe it’s enough?