We have talked divorce, and she has taken her things from our home and is staying with a friend. During our last conversation she let her guard down, and is clearly feeling the weight of what has happened.
I still have hope, but all the advice I get is to focus on myself and get past this. Any insights here? I feel like I'm watching myself drown, and I can't do anything.
Answer: I'm sorry. Here are a couple of thoughts:
(1) The drowning feeling is normal, and passes. When people suffer a shocking loss, the emotions come rushing in, as if they're water and we've run out of places to hold them. During this time, it's OK to set no other goal for yourself than to get through each day as well as you can.
(2) As long as these feelings are overwhelming you, you won't be able to think straight - yet, you'll also have points of such stunning clarity that you won't believe you didn't see these things before.
(3) Finally, you probably added the "astonished her family and friends" part to illustrate that things appeared fine but weren't, but I suspect there's also an element of mortification here that this mess is playing out for all to see. If that's the case, please don't give it any more thought. You can't change what people think, and it's not as if anyone is new to the idea of marital turmoil. Concentrate on getting yourself well.
Eat well, try to sleep well, exercise, go places and do things you find pleasing, anything that restores you.
As for still having hope, the best thing, I think, would be to proceed very slowly. Get used to living apart for a while. Get your feelings in order. Get your words in order; you'd be surprised at the distance between what people want to say and what they say, especially when in distress.
And, most important, don't try to go back. What you had before is not only gone, it's what got you here. Even if your goal is to save your marriage, think of it not as restoring the old, but instead as creating something new.
E-mail Carolyn Hax at firstname.lastname@example.org, or chat with her online at noon Fridays at www.washingtonpost.com.