Reckoning (noun): An accounting, as for things received or done. When your actions are judged as good or bad and you are rewarded or punished.

I have a theory. My theory is based on hunches and tidbits and quotes and after ten years in a relationship and three years as a mother, facts.

This theory is that at certain point in every woman’s life, she must take account of where she let go of her control. Where she set up the dynamic she finds herself in. Where the choices she made led her to the situation she’s in and the person she’s become. And when that moment comes, if she decides to meet it, there is a reckoning.

That moment came for me last weekend. My husband left Tuesday morning for his annual work conference in Las Vegas. I sent him off with closest thing to a smile I could plaster on my worn face (I was recently told my cheekbones look better than ever). I told him not to worry, we would be fine. I had my mom. Food in the fridge. Just go, I said. I got this.

Why he was so worried? Because he’s a good man. A great father, a caring husband. Also, because he knows it’s hard. Also, maybe because he could see it. I am struggling, I am not as strong as I was. Time has not helped our situation. It has worn both of us down. All of these things are true. And that’s important to note.