A Retrospective

10 Apr

When I first started writing about my separation, I had visions of regular updates. I’d share my pain and heal by writing out my thoughts. And maybe someone in the same boat would find my blog and feel not quite so alone.

Obviously that hasn’t happened. I went through many nights when I couldn’t stop crying and when I couldn’t process my thoughts on the separation. It took all of my energy to breathe in and out; there was no way I could put any thoughts down. There were panic attacks. There were days that my eyes were so puffy from crying that I couldn’t put in my contacts. There were mornings when I could not manage to get out of bed and get moving. There were days after days of hauling myself to the bathroom stall at the office, sitting on the cold floor and crying into wadded up toilet paper, hoping to silence my sobs so that no one would ask what was the matter. There was an unbelievable amount of heartache. Pain. Loneliness. Regret. Guilt. It’s difficult to look back and think on that now. I don’t remember specifics, but if I let myself think hard enough, things start floating back. Right now I can’t really handle those memories.

I remember having daydreams of my husband coming back. Waiting for me in the driveway. Calling me on the phone. I had a daydream that he’d show up on Christmas Eve. New Year’s. Just any old day. One evening as I drove home, I was fantasizing of him sending me dozens of flowers to the house, even though I hate getting flowers. I pulled into the driveway and saw a flower-shaped package wrapped in brown paper. I had to tell myself that it wasn’t him, it wasn’t him. As I got closer to the door, I realized it was a poinsettia plant from the lawn company.

There’s also been healing. I was able to talk about what happened without breaking down. Sometime around mid-December I was able to fall asleep on my own. Christmas was not the huge pityfest I had imagined it would be. It was a genuine good time. I had worried that it would be like Thanksgiving, where I couldn’t pull it together, even though I was surrounded by the people who love me most. I floated in and out of rooms at a friend’s party, almost looking for him because it seemed so strange that he wasn’t there. But thankfully it wasn’t like Thanksgiving. Christmas and New Year’s were fantastic.

I started feeling more productive at work. The legal divorce progressed. I let myself let go and do things I hadn’t done before, like meet complete strangers at a happy hour, take a running class, talk to random people on a flight. It was exhilarating and freeing, pushing myself like that. I fell into a routine at home with my pup and with cleaning. Apparently, life does move on.

The divorce was complete sometime in March. I haven’t memorized the day, nor do I really want to. I wasn’t able to face the court, so he ended up going and signing in front of the judge. My lovely mom had volunteered to fly down here in case I did have to go to court. I’m so lucky. Instead the divorce just happened and my attorney emailed about it later. When I verified with her that I was indeed divorced, I felt a terrible sadness for about a minute. Then I felt just the tiniest flutter of excitement. Excitement! My dear friend happened to be in town that day, and we went and had drinks and everything felt great.

Of course I still miss him. Earlier tonight though, I couldn’t remember if he ever kissed me on the forehead. Strange, isn’t it, to not remember a thing like that after spending my entire adult life with him?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: