The sun is barely peeking over the trees, and a mist is lifting off the lake, where blow-up obstacle courses are stationed. Brad and his wife, Jenna, are off to the right, having an intimate conversation. Chad and his wife, Danielle, are quietly arguing about some fantasy league he is in. Finky and Lindsey are passing a cup of coffee back and forth. And Duncan and his husband are doing jumping jacks off to the side, looking like they’re gearing up for a takedown.

There are a few other couples who I haven’t met yet, but maybe in time, we will.

Sanders offers me a nod. He lifts a megaphone to his mouth and says, “Are we ready to test your agility? Your comfort level with each other? Your athletic prowess?”

The Chads and Brads all lift their fists in the air while Wilder leans in and whispers, “Douche canoes.”

I chuckle but then remind myself that we’re still supposed to be angry with each other.

Over dinner last night, we laid out a game plan. Wilder took the lead and wrote in his journal how we’re going to become the best couple to have ever walked the grounds of this camp. His evil cackle had me laughing, and he had me smiling while he pointed out ways for us to start slowly, showing Sanders how his tactics are working. And when he made a game day plan with X’s and O’s like Sanders did, showing our way to the end zone of best couple of the year, he had me doubled over in a fit of giggles.

And when I went to sleep last night, feeling lighter, like a weight had been lifted, I realized that this was exactly what I needed. Maybe Wilder was right; in order to break away from the dark cloud hanging over my head, I needed to break the routine.

Funny thing is, I didn’t know that dark cloud was there until yesterday. It appeared out of nowhere, shocking me to my very core. I went into yesterday’s session with the idea that we’d simply battle it out and then leave, but bringing up past grievances I had with my husband shook me.

I had no idea I would be airing out my frustrations, the hurt I felt from his indifference. From his lack of love. And after realizing that, crying through the grief, mourning those thoughts and feelings, it was cathartic to release the pain.

More than I expected.

I’ve been sitting on those feelings, repressing them out of fear of having to relive it all, and sure, in the moment, it didn’t feel great, but God, today, I feel lighter. I feel better. I feel like a new me is starting to blossom, and I’m ready to have fun.