A few more back-posts, written in my journal in a different time.  It’s been good to go back through some of the thoughts and feelings I experienced as reflection isn’t just something we do in the moment or immediately following said moment.  I’m almost caught up to real time, so please bear with these remaining entries as a way to share the progression of my story. 

I wrote this particular piece back in December.  

Two days until settlement, until the hardest part of this leg is over.  The house has always been a metaphor for our marriage – something that felt absolutely right, but never actually worked out for us.  It continues to play its part well.  Now it is just a shell and we have to leave to move forward.

For two years I felt more alone than I do now.  Holding onto my secret and trying to put the pieces back together even though they’d been shattered.  It all got to be too much.  But now, facing it, some of that loneliness has been replaced by pain.  I try not to fault myself for not seeing the growing signs and I make an effort to see the positives laid out before me in starting fresh.  Yet that can only be half the story, and it ignores the full truth.  That this was 10 years of my life and my first and only love, first and only lots of things.

It has been three months since I moved out, and I’m finding that hard to believe both for the speed and the crawl.  How much has changed and how little really does.  How it has felt to rediscover my own strength and joy.  How long I was able to tolerate so much hurt.  Even the dog seems different, calmer.  I can never decide if she appreciates the change or is just mirroring my adjusted energy.  Either way, I suppose it’s working out for both of us.


Now I’m sitting in the nearly empty structure that once held so much possibility, waiting for someone to come buy our furniture.  The heat hasn’t been on for days, so it’s cold and there’s barely a hum of the few appliances still plugged into the walls.

There’s some closure in selling off what once brought a sort of homey feeling to this place.  Taking minimal cash just to be rid of things.  Wondering if either of us feels any real value in them at all.

But it’s almost over.  Tomorrow they come for donations and on Friday I give up my key.  In a way it’s a relief.  I won’t have to go back inside anymore.


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