"When are you leaving? I can’t wait for you to leave."
Whenever I look at him—especially at night when he’s sleeping in my bed and I’m still awake—I say these things to him, mentally, with a look of disgust on my face. I go back and forth between anger and hurt, turned on both him and myself. I lie awake, night after night, anticipating the day he finally moves out and asking for help to forgive, to move on, and to see what I am meant to learn from this.
Eventually, three key realizations float to the surface that allow me to forgive him, forgive myself, and begin to let go of this marriage and embrace an unclear future: