Shit Get Real. This is how it feels when your husband moves out.
Friends, let’s talk.
It has come to my attention that I haven’t actually spent a lot of time here talking about my divorce, considering this is a blog about divorce. Why? Because divorce is hard. Like really hard. So as I shared my story the last few months, I’ve spoken little about The X and the actual divorce. I just wasn’t able to share it yet because I was still in grief. Some days I still am. I’ve said that a lot the last year. I’m in grief, somewhat like an explanation or excuse. As if I needed an excuse to cry, be a bitch, act out.
Regardless of the fact that I’m not the only one responsible for our marriage failing. I feel like the only one responsible. So, it was easier for me to talk shit about a cheating douche I dated after than a man I loved. And still love. I don’t want to hurt The X. Or I guess at least any more than I already have, but I do want to share my story with you so you can see how far I’ve come and can find hope as you move through your own process.
My effort in all my posts is to be transparent while I share my story in a real and honest way. These posts come from actual journal entries that I wrote during last 16 months following a heartbreaking separation and ultimate divorce. This post may be a tad different as I’d like to start the story of my divorce by sharing with you my first journal entry as the separation process started, before getting into the nitty-gritty about why our marriage ended. Our physical separation started on October 22, 2016, as he moved out of the home we purchased and shared together. So here goes, this is how it feels when you decide to separate and he actually moves out.
This is how it feels when your husband moves out.
Written October 2016.
I haven’t been really allowing myself to feel very much during this whole thing. Feelings creep up and it’s all so overwhelming I can’t process so I’ve been just putting the focus elsewhere. Cleaning, work, TV, and some video games seem to do the trick. But I am actually feeling all the feels. I guess I just don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know what will happen or how to proceed with what’s next.
I’m afraid that if I let the feelings in for even an instant panic will set in. My mind is racing with what if’s and maybe this is a mistake. I’m so confused. Everyone acts like it’s so fucking easy. Just say this is what you want or don’t want forever…it’s too much pressure. What is actually the right thing to do? I don’t know, but I do know it’s not based off someone’s fucking stupid opinion.
I have lost myself somehow over the past few years while I focused on The X and everything else. So, I don’t honestly know what I think anymore. I’m just so worried about him and about doing the “right” thing. I legit don’t even fucking know what that means anymore. It all feels wrong. The sadness and fear of the unknown are overwhelming. Thinking about everything that could have, should have, would have been, is debilitating. Listening to everyone’s thoughts, opinions, advice, and feelings on everything that’s happening is purely exhausting. Just getting up and doing what I normally do feels excruciating. I can’t think or focus ever.
I’m so sad it’s unbelievable. It’s literally like a dam just waiting to break open of emotion. I feel flooded sometimes with so much fear, sadness, and anxiety that it’s almost like I can’t breathe. I’m paralyzed. Everyone keeps saying people do this every day. Is that supposed to fucking help? Yeah, I get it, they do. But until you are doing it, right now, just like me, maybe just shut the fuck up. Maybe say instead I’m here for you and just leave it at that.
Instead, everyone wants to know what’s wrong, what happened, what is happening presently and what will happen in the future. How can I tell you when I don’t know? How can I assure you I’m fine when I can’t find even convince myself that’s true. I don’t even know what happened. I don’t know how we go here. I don’t know where the love went or what has transpired the past month or so.
It feels like an out of body experience at times. I’m seeing it happen but since I have gone somewhat numb to the reality I don’t feel connected to much until I have a sudden or unexpected surge of emotion. It’s like I need a warning sign on my body for people to see. Fragile, tread lightly. But I don’t want people to see me that way either. I don’t want to be that fragile, confused girl that is getting divorced. That girl who just lost the love of her life, and is just a fucking disaster.
What do I want? I want to be seen as someone who is strong, but him leaving has left me feeling so confused and lost, it’s hard to find strength in all this shit. I guess the strength comes from continuing to move forward like a robot. But what does that look like? I guess it means continuing to get up every day when all I want to do is curl into a ball of sadness and lay in bed all day. Or take a nap at the bottom of a pool. It means, continuing to lead my team when leading myself is confusing enough. It means, ignoring the pressure of all the eyes on me as I try to pretend I’m okay at meetings or on conference calls.
But at home? The situation is delicate and I’m not okay. I’ve gotten really good at pretending so somedays it may seem that way but it feels more like a facade than anything. Mainly I feel like I’m on autopilot. I’m doing what I have to every day to survive, meanwhile keeping the reality of separating from my love enough at bay that it doesn’t completely consume me. But the balance shifts constantly. I do have some hope that the intense feelings of despair and sadness will pass as the immediate situation continues to sort itself out. That awful fear of the unknown and the future is more volatile though. I’m not sure that will ever sort itself out. How does it get better? How will anything ever be okay again? The only thing I do know is that God will not leave me here. So just get out of bed tomorrow. It’s an entirely new day.
Present day.
While I do believe that I have finally moved into acceptance, the loss of love saddens me. The confusion and excruciating pain have ended. I no longer live in denial or hope of reconciliation. I’m no longer angry. I don’t cry all the time anymore. But I am still sad. I imagine that may always be the case when I think about my failed marriage. I have found solace in writing and in spending time with friends and family. I moved on to a new single life and I’m okay. I didn’t die of a broken heart like I thought I would. I still think about The X every day. I imagine that will stop eventually, or at least be fewer and far between.
It is still painful for me to read these words I wrote. It brings me right back to the grief as if I were sitting there at my vanity when he came in crying the day he moved out. Whether or not it’s “for the best” or whatever the fuck people may say, divorce is so hard. It is like nothing I’ve ever experienced and I hope I never have to again. Regardless of who’s “fault”, it may be, a marriage ending is devastating for everyone. This is why I chose to share this first so you can see the emotion behind it before hearing all the details of what happened. I’m brave enough now to face it, delve into it and finally share it with you. Stay tuned as we go deeper into the story of why my marriage ended in divorce.