This is part rant and part me just thinking aloud here.

After several months of separation and an on coming, no turning back divorce on the horizon, I've had lots of time to think of all the things that went wrong. I'm not here to play Mr. victim, I did my part in burning this bridge. But I will say with complete honesty that probably 8 times out of 10 I was NOT the aggressor or the instigator. There was always something wrong, something missing, something she needed. Once respectful dialog and my attempts to "change" for her stopped leading to any sort of resolution I just started getting cold and defensive. If the complaints were consistent then I could get my head around it, maybe even take action, but it wasn't consistent.

Anything from we don't go on enough trips, I don't spend enough time with her, we spend too much time together and she needs her own life, the sex is too long and there's nothing wrong with a quickie, the sex is too short, there's not enough of the too long/too short sex. You never do chores, you do the chores wrong. I could go on for 5 paragraphs I'm sure.

So what is the bottom of the line difference between her and I that led to so many disputes? Contentment. I don't mean the kind of content where I'm satisfied with a dead end job, no aspirations, sitting in front of the TV all day. I mean content in the sense that she was always good enough for me. Baggy sweats or in a dress, good enough for me. Flying high or crappy mood, good enough for me.

I spent a lot of years overseas in the military. I learned to become content with what I had. In a cot surrounded by 20 dudes, hey at least I got a book and a sleeping bag. In an open bay shower, hey at least the water is hot. Shoved on night shift where I'd see maybe 4 people a night, hey at least I get to avoid the sun. Stuck for 6 months with nothing to do but work and sleep, good opportunity to deal with that cardio I hate so much.

She was never content, it was never enough. I couldn't have been enough if I was willing to morph myself like putty into whatever image she had of "perfect husband" that day and spent every last penny submitting to her material needs.

I think realizing and coming to terms with the fact I could never be enough has been a helpful lesson for me. Again, I played my part in fucking this all up but even if I hadn't, I'm confident we'd still be where we were then. We'd still be married and I'd still not be enough or doing enough.

Thanks for listening bros. Best wishes to you all.