Two Months Into Separation

It’s been just over two months since I made the decision to separate, and I wanted to sit down and put some words to what this has really been like. Partly for myself, because writing always helps me process, and partly because I know there are others out there who have either gone through something similar in their marriage or are standing on the edge of it, wondering what life on the other side looks like.

The truth is, this has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. For months—honestly, years—I went back and forth in my head. Do I stay? Do I go? What if I regret it? What if I don’t have the strength to follow through? Rationalizing with myself, maybe I can make it work. Why blow up an otherwise good life? It wasn’t a single moment of clarity that pushed me over the line. It was more like a slow buildup of realizations, and I couldn’t keep pretending everything was going to be okay, because I knew deep down, the compromises were too big, the regret would be too real.

Saying the words out loud—“I want a separation”—was terrifying. Once you say that, you can’t unsay it. But as scary as it was, there was also a strange kind of relief. For the first time in a long time, I was being honest with myself and with her. I just put in motion the very thing I had been fantasizing about, picturing my own space, peace, and freedom. The very thing I would think about when falling asleep at night was now officially put in motion.

Of course, once the decision was made, the emotional side didn’t just stop. If anything, that’s when it really started. The wave of logistics hit—moving, money, figuring out the dogs, sorting through stuff that had built up over the years. Every single thing became a reminder of the bigger choice I had made. It became a flood of questions: did I do the right thing? How is she doing? What is she thinking? Can I undo this? And even though it all felt overwhelming, I kept telling myself: this is part of the process.

There’s the emotional side of separation, and then there’s the physical and mental side. Emotionally, it’s been all over the place. Some days I feel lighter, like I can finally breathe. Other days, the loneliness creeps in pretty hard. There’s grief, which I know many people feel when they separate, but for me, I think I had grieved the loss of my marriage quite some time ago, and in my case, it was a real challenge to be apart but still intertwined and locked in so many routines together.

Physically, I’ve felt the impact too. Stress takes a toll, and I can feel it in my body—tiredness (lots of feeling tired), mental gymnastics, and overthinking. I’ve been trying to balance that with healthier habits: walking more and aiming for 10K steps a day, playing tennis, and eating better. It’s not perfect, but I’m starting to test the question I had thousands of times, ‘am I weak, fragile, and flawed in almost every way?’ like she’s told me so many times, and will I fail at life when left to myself?

Now, two months in, I don’t have it all figured out. I still wake up some mornings wondering what the future holds for me, or for us. But I also feel a kind of clarity I haven’t felt in years. I have space to think, to breathe, to reconnect with myself. I’m learning that separation isn’t just about creating distance from another person—it’s about creating room for yourself. The space makes way for new perspectives, which can be views that make you realize you want to save your marriage or perspectives that confirm you need to keep leaning out.

Yes, I’ve moved out of our big house where she is still living, I’ve got a small but nice apartment that is getting set up and becoming the cozy place I dreamed of. Yes, we are slowly untangling our finances and moving towards more separation.

I am lucky, we do not have kids, we are both financially capable, and we still care for each other and so this whole process continues to be fair and peaceful. I know this is a blessing, but I sometimes wonder if this would all be easier if I could just get mad and rip the band-aid off quickly.

I’m not going to wrap this up with a neat little bow, because that wouldn’t be true. Separation is messy. It’s hard. It’s disorienting. But it’s also been the first real step toward peace for me. And right now, that’s what I’m chasing. Not perfection (well, sometimes, and I am working on that). Not answers to every question. Just peace. I just want to be me, no ridicule, no judgment, no criticism, no anger, no mocking me, no hiding. Just peace.

Two months in, I can honestly say I don’t regret the choice. I feel the weight of it every single day, but I also feel the freedom that comes with being honest—with myself, with her, with the life I want to live. And that, more than anything, is what keeps me going.