Twenty-three years is about to come to an end. He's right about all of it -- we don't work together well; I don't respect him and he doesn't respect me; we don't have the same goals; on and on and on. Can this marriage be saved? Should we even bother? We just barely tolerate each other some days.
I'm glad the words have been said. It's silly to live a lie. I don't want him blaming me, though. He's the one who smashed the relationship to bits with his little rock hammer. It's been coming back together very slowly. For a long long time I didn't care one bit if it ever came back together at all. For a long time I was just hanging in there until Michaela graduated from high school; then I was going to be out the door.
It's gotten a lot better since then. We've had good times together. Now I find I do care. It will be hard to say good-bye.
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