My name is Beth Rutledge. Today is my birthday. I am fifty-one years old. I have a thriving interior decorating business, a son in college, a daughter who just made me a grandmother and a husband whom I love very much.
My mother will tell you that I have been having a midlife crisis. My best friend will tell you that I am courageous. My husband will tell you that, on my last birthday and for just a little while, I lost my mind.
I will tell you this: Sometimes you have to lose something in order to reclaim it. Sometimes you have to trust the love that holds the seams of your life together and stretch it to a new limit.
Sometimes you just have to lose your mind... and follow your heart.
He looked at me without expression. “Beth, everything you do is about me. Don’t you know that? It affects me and if you’re unhappy, then I have to think it has to do with me. And I don’t know what I’ve done to make you want to leave.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and began to cry. “David, honey, you haven’t done anything. You’re you; sure, you do things sometimes that irritate the shit out of me, but I do the same. I know that. This is something I need to do for me and, hopefully, you’ll get a new and improved Beth at the end of it.”
He did the one thing I least expected then—he reached out and took my hand. “But what if I don’t want a new and improved Beth? What if I’m happy with the Beth I have right now?”
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