The End is Near  − 13 November, 2007

I haven't even cried in days. Everything inside of me is too tight, twisted-up for crying. I am afraid.
And this is what fear does: It makes you question everything.

I am looking at how the things that I own don't fit inside of boxes. I am looking at all the things that are not mine, but are ours. Our room. Our home. Our children. Our life. Not so easy to divide. And I sit and fold shirts and stack them in laundry baskets. And I think, I can undo this. I can unpack. I can unsay things. It's not too late for that. Because fear makes you question everything.

Everything will be different. I am tripped up by sudden questions that occur to me - what do we do about Christmas? Birthdays? What do we tell everyone? What do we tell the boys?

But I have to remember why this began in the first place. I am sorry that we have come to this place. I am sorry to leave him like this. I can feel the weight of how I am disappointing everyone by giving up. I can feel the weight of my own disappointment. But I have to remember that it was not happy. It was never really happy enough.