Not saying that this isn't the goal, but damn, I wish we didn't have to fight to get here.
It is tough. And I won't lie and say that I don't love her, I do. But my initial post sums it up nicely. Distancing myself from the pain and "compartmentalizing" is the only way I can describe it. IC is where the compartmentalized BS gets out, and the rest of the time is mine. My kids. Me.
Everyone's journey to that point is different. But for me, looking around at the chaotic dysfunction she breathes into everyday life, and the trauma laced years together. Taking those rose colored glasses off, and seeing things for the way they are. That's how I got here.