Moving day

“Everything is going to be alright. Maybe not today, but eventually.” -unknown

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The "last week" before the his "move out date" started on Thanksgiving. And so too did my epic meltdown. I've cried before. I've cried about our relationship. I've cried about our impending divorce. I've cried about him having a moving date. But I am not sure I have, ever in my life, cried like I cried the week leading up to him moving. I didn't choke up here and there... I sobbed all day, every day. I would lay in bed, crying from somewhere so deep in my soul that it was physically painful. He would lay there with me, with his arms around me, as I laid in the fetal position that is specific and unique to this crushing feeling of grief and loss. I would cry into my cup as I was prepping my coffee, I was crying onto my keyboard as I was trying to get work done, I'd cry while I was in the shower or getting dressed. It started on thanksgiving and it did NOT stop.

Our last Thursday in our home together as a married couple was Thanksgiving. We ate, we drank, and when we went to bed, it occurred to me that this was our last Thursday "sleep." That's when it all started. I cried myself to sleep. I should say, I cried until HE went to sleep, then I made my way to the couch, and cried while watching TV for several hours until he woke up and came down to find me and take me back to bed.

Our last Friday, he had to go to work. I cried when he left for work, then sat on the couch, and cried all day long. I cried until he came home, and then I cried myself back to sleep again.

Our last Saturday off to work he went, and back to the couch to cry went I. I finally peeled myself off the couch to get dressed to meet him out for drinks. I managed to survive drinks out, at a great bar that we decided we loved. I couldn't eat. I think the last time I'd eaten was on Thanksgiving. The thought of food was as nauseating as the thought of him no longer living in our house with me. While we were out, he told me I should keep the next Saturday clear, so we could meet up for drinks. This is what our life will look like next week - we will make plans to meet up because we won't just see each other "at home" by default. I wasn't ready to think about that this week.

Our last Sunday together, the feeling of grief and terror and guilt and second guessing have just ramped up daily. Based on how I handled life today, I'm not sure I am going to be ok at work next week. I'm not ok sitting here on this couch with my sweet and very concerned dogs. I can't stop thinking about the next four days. Should I go into the office and try to get stuff done on Monday or should I work from home so I can have my meltdowns privately at home? On the 1st of December, the 1st of our new lives... do I stay home to see him off or do I stay away and just come home to my empty home?

Our last Monday together, I worked from home and he went to his part time "new life" job. I somehow felt a bit better today. I can't remember if I started crying after I woke up, or was already crying WHEN I woke up, but I knew I had to get dressed and physically go into work and try to keep focused on anything BUT the fact that I felt like my life was falling apart around me.

Our last Tuesday together, I went to a hockey game with my boss. We grabbed dinner and drinks and chatted. I told him that I may need to work from home on Thursday. That while I felt like I'd been pretty good about leaving my personal stuff at home, I didn't think I'd be fit for being around humans on move out day.

Our last Wednesday together, I found out he had to work. These are the types of things that put me over the edge now. Something as simple as thinking he was going to be home all day only to find out he wouldn't be home until late.

Then here it was - The 1st of December, the 1st day that we no longer lived together, the last day of our lives together as we know it. To say I was useless would be an epic understatement. I sat in the same position on the couch all day long, watching my husband pack his car and stage items for subsequent trips. I did nothing. I laid on the couch, as he moved, and my heart broke.

"What have I done..." That's what I just keep hearing/saying over and over. I'm not sure I can count the number of times I've been on the verge of just yelling "NEVERMIND! WE CAN TRY AGAIN!" I've tasted blood from clamping down on those words. Saying them does neither of us any good. It's just a grief response of some sort. I'm mourning the loss of this marriage. I'm trying to figure out to surgically extricate ME from we. It's funny, because I think we both lost sight of "we" during the marriage… And now in divorce, I can't remember how to be just the solo ME 1/2 of Tai and Heather.

It felt so traumatic to have watched him pack and move all day, and then leave for his new place. We decided to do one more night together - we ate, we drank, we played video games... we woke up together, we had coffee, and he left. It was as if he was going to work, only I knew this time he wasn't coming "home" afterwards. But it was ok. It wasn't GREAT, but it was ok. We already had our "new date night" plans for the following day, and it was ok. And in the days that have followed, nothing has been great, but things have continued to be ok. I feel like I can breathe again, and I can put my words and thoughts and feelings on paper again. Maybe someday things will be great, but for now, I'm happy with ok.