“I’ve never seen any life transformation that didn’t begin with the person in question finally getting tireof their own bullshit.” – Elizabeth Gilbert. No truer words have ever been spoken.
In the past six weeks, I have learnt more about myself than I have in the countless hours I have spent sitting on my therapist’s couch. Jason* (my husband) and I have decided to separate. This decision has not come lightly, for either one of us. I can’t speak for Jason (nor would I want too) but I can say that the last six weeks have been the hardest time of my life.
I want to tell you that something went horribly wrong, that we woke up one day and realised we hated each other, that we couldn’t bear to be in this marriage anymore, that even looking at each other was painful let alone being in an intimate relationship, but that would all be bullshit, because I love Jason, I do, I just don’t know in what way.
In every relationship I have had, I do the same thing. Meet someone, have sex, have more sex, move in together, make some huge commitment, (in this case get married, last time it was buying a house) freak out because I realise I don’t actually want what I have committed to, push them away, do hurtful things, push them away more, end the relationship.
It’s the same thing over and over again, it’s even at the same time of year. I have realised that this goes in a two to three-year cycle. This was fine to do when I was younger, when life wasn’t so serious, when the people that were involved still had one foot firmly planted in their own life, but this isn’t fine to do now. People are getting hurt by the choices I am making, to some degree lives are being destroyed because I am confused about who I am and what I want for my life.