“To My Husband, Before your second Father’s Day and on our anniversary weekend, Honestly, I can’t…”

To My Husband, Before your second Father’s Day and on our anniversary weekend, Honestly, I can’t even figure out how to start this letter, much less when I’m going to end up writing by the end. The last year and nobody could’ve predicted but you know in a way the emotional dynamics are not far off from my secret worst fears. I know I’m not perfect. I’m not striving for perfection, though I am striving for authenticity, and leaving the world a better place than I found it. I honestly have no idea if you have any goals or ambitions in life. So it’s kind of crazy that all I ask for is support while our son is a liberal infant and I go back to school, and I spent the last year watching you prioritize everything above us. It wouldn’t even bother me that badly if you ever sacrificed anything for us over your comfort. I didn’t sign up to have to nag a 40-year-old man to do his chores correctly and use a washcloth in the shower, but here we are, you hungover in a $2k bed alone like every other night the last 18 months. I have said for a long time that words are easy but actions are hard. I have seen you put way more effort into being shitty to me than you ever would toward having an equal, loving, real family with me. It hurts and it sucks, but what sucks worse is every red flag warning I waved off as me being a bitch. But you never really loved me and never will. Bye.