Susie Has Left Me, and I’m Turning 40 Today
posted at 2:00 am
on Oct. 15, 2012
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This is the hardest thing I’ve ever written, about the hardest thing I’ve ever faced.
I’m completely shocked. It came out of a clear blue sky. I think she explained why, but I didn’t understand, not then. She told me that she just couldn’t be in this marriage any more. This was at 4:45 p.m. on Friday, by the way. We talked for half an hour. Then she left. We haven’t spoken since.
I wrote a blog post about it almost immediately, because that’s what I do. And then, for once, I didn’t post it. And now I’m writing this new one. Still not very long to wait. But this post is different. I already I feel like i’m thinking thoughts I haven’t ever thought. I can see my relationship, my relationshipS, (my?) Susie, myself, in ways that were simply opaque to me two days ago.
I’ve told a few people already and they have tried to help. They have helped. They talk about Susie in ways I haven’t seen. They sometimes say things that make sense. Sometimes they say things that are opposites, and in that contradiction, I see what I also don’t understand. Sometimes they just listen to me. Sometimes I sit there in silence.
I hate telling anyone. Each person I tell makes it a little more real. But telling friends, my mom, my sister, doesn’t make it real. What makes it real is telling that one person. It was real the moment she said it. It’s real. It’s happening. This is my life, now.
I do know that for a long time, I haven’t heard her. If I had been, wouldn’t I have heard this coming? I would have.
I do know that she wouldn’t do this prematurely, that she wouldn’t do this if she didn’t believe in herself. I’m worried about her (and about me). I know she’s not cruel, I know she’s just and kind and smart. She is a good person. But I don’t actually know her now. I don’t know when I stopped knowing her. Maybe on Friday.
I considered this marriage to be rock solid, more solid than titanium, more durable than the sun. I feel like others thought that, too—that it wasn’t just my delusion. I feel like we fooled ourselves into thinking we were safe. I feel like nothing is safe any more.
It’s not over. We’re not divorced. And I don’t know what happens next—not in the big picture, and not even in terms of what’s going to happen to me, to us, tomorrow. I’m not closing any door. I want to welcome her back. I can feel myself shifting, getting ready to do whatever needs to be done, however difficult that is.
Because I’m not giving up, and actually, I don’t think I’ll ever give up, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay with this, I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling this love I have for her. It’s forever.
But it’s possible this is the beginning of the end. Frankly, honestly and unvarnishedly, it’s probable. The married part of my life is going to be over, and the next part of my life is going to start. And what more poignant day to start than the day I turn 40?
