I’m trying to pack and I can’t. It’s not the physical task involved, it’s the emotional weight that putting things in boxes represents. Each time that moving boxes have been involved, there has been some life-changing event that we’ve always tackled together and now I’m left to pack up my own stuff and you will come later and pack up your own stuff. And maybe it’s that your stuff is the “big stuff” so no matter how much I accomplish, to anyone looking in from the outside it doesn’t look like much has changed.

My craft studio contains so much “stuff”…. Stuff that I did by myself. Each piece of paper, each inkpad, each stamp was selected by me. It was mine and I spent a lot of time in that studio. I always said that I was blessed to have a husband who let me have a space of my own. I bragged about your support of what I did and I was thankful that you never held it against me. I was grateful for the opportunity that my little crafts would bring and the cash that would come with those opportunities. Often, they paid for some extra groceries or even take-home when we’d do dinner and a movie from the comfort of our living room.

Your space consisted of the couch or the bed. No matter which, you always had your computer and were always playing online games. I didn’t fuss at it because like you let me have my space, I figured you needed yours… a way to just find time for your mind to unwind. Looking back, it was just a way for us to not talk — to have Netflix playing in the background, to share a common laugh or gasp at what was going on, but we forgot to talk to each other.

I remember saying to you as we were driving to the airport before you trip, and after a particularly tough weekend of talking through a lot of things, that I felt closer to you than I had in a long time and yet, I couldn’t just reach over and hold your hand. We dealt with a lot of feelings those first two days…D-weekend. It’s a shame we couldn’t deal with them earlier.

You sent me a text that said you were sorry that you couldn’t share your feelings in a way that I understood. So am I. You said that if I had only asked if something was going on, that you would have told me. I should not have had to ask. You said that you were sorry you let it get as far as it did. I agree. And yet again, I wonder, is it easier to say sorry now… now that you are sure this is over?

I paid my half of the lawyer’s fees; will you pay yours? You were so anxious for this to end and confident that it would just 19 days ago but you struggle to come up with the full half of your responsibility? You tell me you have just $8 in your wallet until payday and I want so badly to offer you some money so that you can get some new pants for work but I don’t. There are things I want to tell you but don’t. Things that I think you should know, things that would make your life a bit easier but I won’t.

You see, for so long, I was always taking care of the loose ends while you were making deals. And now, you say you go from couch to couch between two homes, one being hers and the other a woman who knew exactly what was going on and didn’t speak up. I know where each lives and it doesn’t make sense. You are always driving her car no matter where you say you slept. I think you are lying and even if you aren’t there isn’t much now that would convince me otherwise. I question your questions, I question your answers, and I question your motives.

Yesterday, I received a text from you asking me if I was going to “shaft” you with the rest of the bills (namely, because the house bills are all in your name). Where in the world did that come from? Again, my response to you is have I proven myself to be so unfaithful to you and my responsibilities to this marriage that you doubt I would continue? You have no sense of boundaries with the chatter that is going on around you. You doubt me, because you doubt yourself.

But you see, I don’t doubt you. I don’t doubt that you will find a way to figure it out. I don’t doubt that you will have your cake and eat it too, I don’t doubt that you will come out of this feeling as if you have been justified in all of your actions and I don’t doubt that you will wake up one day and realize that I’m gone.

Queue Stupid Boy by Keith Urban