I keep deleting and rewriting this post, because I don’t want to make it sound like I’m callously walking away from the life Ian and I built, turning my back with nary a twinge. Every time I write something, it comes out sounding like I’m unalloyed happy to be going through this process.
Nothing could be further from the truth: I have good days and bad days. Good days, I optimistically look forward to a future where Ian and I co-parent Benji collaboratively and with goodwill toward each other, but continue growing and pursuing our lives otherwise independently. Bad days, I go for 10 miles of walks and then take a break by going for a long car drive because I’m too restless and anxious from all the change, afraid I’m selfishly pursuing a course that will irreparably damage Benji.