Since then our path has been so peaceful that have sparked confusion and gossip in our small town in the mountains of Colorado. Sometimes our cars are parked next to each other on the street, often we eat together and decided it was easier for us adults, change house for our children.
Sometimes the neighbors do not see differences between the before and after separation and feel the need to confirm when I found in the office: Yes, it is separated.
Now, my answer has become a well-rehearsed whisper we have always loved and always will. We fled the conflict and we have a gentle temperament. It is nobody's fault. The relationship (in my opinion, at least) had run its natural course.
I remind you that breakups have a new paradigm; They not have to be hostile or be hateful. They may be aware, respectful. Mankind has evolved.
I also tell them that we are thinking about our children, not only for the obvious reasons that should be most important for us in difficult times, but because in recent years have been through traumatic situations have been out of their control: evacuated by forest fires, isolated by an unprecedented flood and exposed to loss and devastation.
Neighbors settle, know very well the various natural disasters that have happened in this region. Sirens, helicopters and news still seem to resonate in our ears; one more reason for our marriage comes to an end without drama.
Neighbors smile and waved goodbye as they climb into their cars. I do not speak the stabbing pain that this causes me.
I do not tell them how recently I dropped to my knees and laughed sadness and relief for one thing long ago, my marriage had become a cliché of two people sharing a house and the fact of having undergone a change as this without all the emotional highs and lows was revealing. In fact, silence spoke volumes.
Words not tell my neighbors, that I remain in the tip of the tongue are: wish it had heard a fight. I wish that our voices have been strong enough to reach the other side of the valley. Yes, perhaps we had freedom of speech, but did not know how to exercise the right to honesty.
Shakespeare said it well: "[...] the pain does not speak wails in the heart until it breaks." I never spoke of anger in my heart or the growing resentment and pain; he did not either. I never demanded attention and care; the not. So it's all over.
What hurts is not the loss of marriage. What hurts is that our relationship has never been, obviously, those for which it is worth raising his voice.
But I'm learning to do. Now, I watch couples all the time (in movies, novels and real life) and pay attention to how to face conflicts. I get to hear in restaurants. I sit on a bench to the river bank where two people talk. After my furtive research I have kept some favorite phrases: "Really? Is that all that you say? ".
Or, "That does not seem enough."
Or, "Honey, you're very wrong."
Basically, it is provoking dialogues.
I want to embrace these couples, tell them keep it.
The last time I threw a provocative phrase my husband, I failed. And that was when I decided to leave.
It was an ordinary day, the house was quiet and I was reading on the couch. He read a magazine standing in the kitchen.
He always did that, he enjoyed standing after sitting all day in meetings, and I suddenly realized that it had been a decade since he and I had been together in the same chair. Maybe we had sat a moment as one of the two shoes tied or as we could agree with what we would do, but to see a movie? Talk? Make love? Fight? Does the voice Raise?
A burning anger took hold of my body and I wanted to provoke with words: Why had not learned to sit on the couch with me? Why I had never asked? But most importantly, why the hell we'd never fought for that ?.
After a few sessions of therapy we not achieve progress in resolving our differences on how we experienced or were receiving love. The we had identified, or at least I had done: he disliked petting or snuggle; Not me. He wanted to stay home in the evenings and weekends; I wanted out. He did not like the feeling of being close to someone else; it does to me.
All these differences were accentuated over the years, as our true self had emerged. No fuss. Sometimes I opened my mouth to say something about the growing distance. Perhaps he.
But I repressed. My mind went over the list of reasons to say nothing: I would irrational, fastidious or need. He was tired. The children were at home and should not listen fight.
That day on the couch, I watched as she turned the pages of his magazine. He looked up, our eyes met and then returned to his reading.
I let out a discreet sigh. I watched as my breath exuded anger of my body, causing tempers dissipate fight me.
I could almost see the turmoil of emotions that exuded; It looked like a glow emanating from me, which was piled up on the floor. She was not drugged, but how I felt. Under the sunlight, the glare seemed to me the most achingly beautiful thing I had ever seen. Around me they floated bright and silent particles taking a decision.
A few days later, I was able to say: I'm going. Although our friendship had kept us together for 20 years and had been very good for both, I wanted more. I was sure we could handle the separation was coming with respect and dignity. I was sure that we could take our children for everything with love and dedication.
He sat me in the chair when I told him. My voice was shaky as he searched for the words meant-saying what I thought was strange and again but I managed to utter them. I stared at him and waited for an answer.
"Are you sure?" He said.
I nodded. Wait. I was not sure. I was expecting an overreaction, either yours or mine. He was waiting to see how the conversation developed.
It was as always: quiet, reasonable, without apparent anger or agitated voices.
And so it has been ever since. Simply put, we are not supporters of noise and fury, so he had decided.
Sometimes I wonder if our inability to attack the other is rooted in the love they feel. Because, then as now, we love each other. And we both felt so hurt for our loud and violent childhoods we now seek refuge and bask in the silence.
However, that kind of love often does not survive and eventually, our silence was more motivated by cowardice that respect, affection or love. He and I were accomplices, both were guilty of keeping us all rather than let it out.
And that's how we surfaced with all softness. The children were in the house; he and I go back and forth cordially. They reverdecieron mountains again. There has been another major fire in years.
My current boyfriend loves to chat. Talk all the time ideas, movies, songs, how was your day, bad drivers and their beloved horses galloping in the field. Bothered I not enliven the conversation with words or ideas. That speaks one argues.
I laugh and participate. We also have large and convoluted disagreements. I'm not interested silence.
Sometimes I laugh to myself when I hear someone say, "I am a girl without complications." I know what I value respect and peaceful ways. But there is something in that phrase that also breaks my heart.
My ex and I take walks to keep up, agree or discuss matters relating to our children. In these walks, sometimes I take a weight issue, just to see if we can do better. We can not. Promptly, we return to holidays, events and plans: the Thanksgiving, the violin concerto our daughter, the town hall meeting.
In these walks, neighbors sometimes we stop to see how we go. Our behavior is so quiet and peaceful you should feel the need for them again confirm our separation. We congratulate separation so well executed.
And I nod silently.
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