We were incredibly compatible, completely in love, and wonderful collaborators. For the duration of our relationship we were together 24 hours a day.
During that time I was preposterously happy. In many ways my life was effortless. I had an accomplice, I felt loved and supported, and simply put, made my husband my priority.
If you had asked me then where the center of the planet was I would have told you it was under the soles of his feet.
Through the years, we both sacrificed “me” to become “we”.
Somewhere along the way we lost ourselves.
After 15 years our relationship imploded without drama or ceremony. We felt listless, trapped. There was no fight, no big incident, no betrayal, no transgression – but the absence of a “me” in both of us created a vacuum we did not know how to fill.
If I could turn back time, I would change nothing.
That said, to this day I wonder what it says about me that I am so quick, so willing to totally relinquish something as sacred as my sovereignty in the name of love.
It was me. I ruined my marriage. It was a costly lesson, and it taught me that if you give up who you are there is no one left for the other person to love, and no one left to do the loving.