I already have. Let me take you back a week, to the day I realized that blogging about my life needs to be a little more raw, a little less polished, and a little more… imperfect.

“This sounds like a personal statement.” he says, sitting across from me in our dimly lit living room. We are both spent from a regular day at work, lounging in our pajamas – discussing a pretty heavy topic the same way you may ponder eating another potato chip. “You need to write with more heart,” he adds as I scratch my head and wonder how I can possibly spill any more of myself onto paper. “You need a story, dig deeper and don’t sound so excited about our situation.”

Our situation. Our marriage. Our soon to be redefined relationship – our own version of wonderland, an upside down version of the world as we know it.

When I was 22 years old, I met the man who I was certain was going to become my husband. [He] was charming, easy going, and incredibly illusive. The first time we went out on a date we talked for hours, shared an entire bottle of wine and devoured pasta dishes that I still remember thoroughly enjoying to this day. Without planning it – [he] and I were falling in love, not with the stories of what our past held or the future that we may bestow on each other, we simply found our counterpart- it was beautiful. I remember one of our dates so clearly, (maybe the first?) like it was a film. Dinner and the MET where we looked at sculptures and talked about everything yet nothing at the same time. What I recall and hold most dear from that date was the moment he grabbed my hand – so softly – as if to test the waters to see whether it fit… and finding that it did so he did not let go..

I’ll say it again… falling in love with [him] was beautiful, and it was perfect, and it was very real. Every moment of our life, from our wedding, to our son, to our beater of a home… it has been just as tangible and just as real as the moment he first took hold of my hand. So why then… as I write this do I cry? [He] sits in front of me even now, looking at his phone, laughing at our ridiculous cat, our son playing piano in the background – so normal, so perfect, so tangible and real… But don’t forget we are in wonderland, the upside down, where the man I fell so deeply in love with decided to come home one day and tell me he is gay.

Despite the pain of it all, we are still here, still building on top of rubble that we are packing down tightly to create a sturdy foundation, hanging on and connected by a weak tether that can snap at any moment. Perhaps it already even has, and we are just trying to knot it back together any way we can. Any way that I can. I love my husband still… I teeter between simply loving him to being in love with him – it’s a dedicated, true love that is somehow carrying us through this bizarre time. I believe he does love me too, but there is no teetering in him.

We live with this beautiful quote by Eleanor Roosevelt – ‘Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift.’ So tomorrow we reset to kind and hopefully choose the gift of love again.