it's like that disco song, but much sadder.

I’m leaving. Yeah, we’ve played these games before, though it’s usually you doing the leaving. I don’t understand how things have gotten to the way they are now, but the situation is intolerable, so the only choice I have is to go. It’s either live in pain for sixty years, or go and make them mine, whether they turn out good or bad.

You treat me badly. You’ve treated me badly for years. You ignore me, punish me with silence, critique everything from my choice in entertainment to friends to my technique in bed. You dislike my ambition, my love for education. You have convinced me to change for you without asking. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I’m doing all the things for a guy that I said I’ve never do: change my personality and my behaviors, and put off my dreams, and sacrifice what is important to me.

You’ve ignored my needs; I have sex only when I force the issue, which is usually about once every three months. Yet, I find you in front of the computer about 2-3 nights a week. I don’t remember the last time you kissed me. That is the part that I’m most ashamed of. You may act like it is me avoiding the physical affection in our relationship, but you describe the sensation of me touching you as “weird.” I can put my arms around you and you remain motionless. I’ve dealt with that for a long time.

So why have I stayed? You are a good father. I come home at night, and the kids are happy. I like seeing them happy. I love sharing the kids with someone who loves them the same way I love them. I promised myself as a child of 13 that I’d never put my kids through a divorce. It complicates everyone’s lives, and there are all kinds of difficult considerations: living arrangements, money, emotional health and security for the kids.

But I finally have reached that place my mother must have reached when I was 13. I can’t do it anymore. If I stay, it’s a death sentence. So I’ll go. And I’ll most likely be happy again, but it will take years to undo the damage.