My wife and I were sitting in first class on The Chunnel heading to the City of Love, and I was gutted by the absence of connection between us. I had known her for most of my adult life, and I had grown accustomed to the distance that failed to dissipate with time. We grew close early on and then it was as if we hit our ceiling. We had almost raised our family, the nest was emptying out, and I realized that I was emptied out too. Moments like this don’t simply happen but are born and grown over time. She looked up at me and asked me what I was so deep in thought about, “What are you thinking?”
Dare I answer? Dare I speak the raw truth that gripped my mind?
I had been in a trance of thought with my face toward the glass, with this one phrase rolling over and over in my head. I wanted to make this pounding thought audible, but I wrestled. I knew these would be the harshest words she has ever heard from me, and once spoken, there would be no getting them back. And so I did, in a quiet yet resolved tone, I spoke, and each time I repeated the phrase I was more convinced of this truth, “I am done.” The vocal admission was euphoric, and felt like one of the most honest and intimate moments of our marriage.
I am done.