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Dear Husband arrived two hours late today to pick up some of his things.

I sat silently on the bed as he stuffed two big duffel bags with clothes. Finally, as he was getting ready to go, I broke down and pelted him with questions. Questions that DH is unwilling or unable to answer. Questions that all start with why.

He paused on his way out the door and collapsed on the couch instead.

After what seemed like hours of silence, he responded with the only answer that I'm apparently going to get.

'I guess I just wasn't thinking,' DH said.

Great, I married a guy who just doesn't think. Now, 10 months later, I'm divorcing a guy who just doesn't think.

I've tried several times to spin this encounter into something funny so I can show that I'm doing Just Fine, but I can't play it that way. This was truly one of the most painful experiences of my life. Watching him stuff his shirts into a duffel bag was like watching my plans for my life go down the drain.

However, there is one thing I know to be true. Unlike First Wife, I will not let my experiences with DH define me. FW still complains 12 years later that DH ruined her life. I won't give him that power.