A closed casket.

I hate admitting that. I know how awful it sounds when put into words. It almost feels as though I am wishing something terrible on someone I have loved for most of my adult life.

But I’m not. I don’t want him to die. I don’t want our children to lose their father. I don’t want his life to end with so much left unlived. I just don’t want to keep living like this.

You are allowed to understand someone’s struggle and still be heartbroken about what it has done to your life. Compassion does not require self-erasure.

I am just so tired of feeling as if my life is on pause while waiting for someone else to decide what they want their life to look like.