August 3, 2011
Dear S,
Today is your 45th birthday. And, it's been over a year since you've attacked me, and our marriage was officially over. I guess, if one would think about it, our marriage was over even before you told me that you might be gay, before you decided to love my family more than me... before you stopped touching me, and holding me, hugging and kissing me, holding my hand, and having sex with me.
I keep thinking back over the ten years we were married and I can't seem to figure out exactly when we went from best friends to enemies. I just can't seem to figure it out. I try, often, and I think about it, but the moment of that exact rift doesn't come.
The little girl saw me crying the other day. She was completely freaked out by my tears. She kepy wiping my face telling me "mommy, please please don't cry". Seeing me showing any kind of emotion like that scares her. That's what this has done to her.
I don't know how to sit and talk with you anymore. I remember the last time you and I touched (aside from the beating you gave me). I remember, it was the last day of school for me, and I had a teacher's meeting. Before the meeting, I begged you to sit and talk with me, to tell me what was going on with you, to tell me why you weren't talking to me anymore, to tell me that all was going to be ok. I begged you to please hug me, so that I would know that we would be all right.
You did. It felt wrong. Like I was being hugged by someone who wasn't my husband.
Being hugged by you felt like I was being hugged by a strange man... and I felt like I was cheating on you... with you.
Maybe it was the miscarriages that made us fall apart. Maybe we never were together in the first place. But it sure felt like I married my best friend. And, isn't it ironic that the date our divorce will more than likely become final is the date of our anniversary?
We have two absolutely beautiful children. People ask me all the time how that's possible if you're gay. I ask myself the same thing. And then I think about our sex life... about how I had to do all the work, about how hard it was for you, about how you had to keep your eyes closed, maybe about what you were thinking about, because I'm pretty sure if wasn't me.
I remember our last vacation, and I am pretty sure that all those times you went out on your own, you were wondering if there were ways to escape.
Now, I'm glad that you actually took the step and beat me up. I'm thinking that it was a blessing in disguise. I don't think that I ever would have left otherwise. I should really thank you.
Either way, Happy Birthday. I sometimes really hate you, you know, even though I think that hate is a wasted emotion. But, for today, I want you to have a day of joy. I really did love you, you know.
