The Fury and The Silence.

Coffee is moving on May 1st (over the course of a chunk of time since there’s no real rush to it) and this has, apparently, brought forth many feelings again. I would like to say that I am handling those feelings with grace and stoicism but, alas, I am not.

Much like when someone dies, there are all the things you expect to have feelings about – I am familiar with this process – and then there are all the random things that you do not anticipate. Can’t anticipate, really.  I know this, too.

The ending of this marriage is the ending of a bunch of little dreams and half-baked plans. The things I took for granted (because that’s what humans do) and the things I didn’t even realize I had planned or hoped.  Everything from renovating our home to taking a road trip to the east coast to the moratorium on getting a new pet to having all of the kids out of the house. The comforts of the daily routine. The comforts of the conversations. The comforts.

It is the end of the backup person. The comfort. The safe place. The person who, for lack of a better way to phrase it, I sort of considered the other half of my brain – who held on to the knowledge that made my life a whole life.  Every time I went to the hardware store, for example, I might realize that I had no idea what size of a thing I needed – so I could ask him and he’d know.  Not just the practical – the everything. The “do you remember..” answer-holder. The “remember that time when..” The inside jokes. The nicknames. The habits. The rituals. The routines. The other half of all of my experiences, even if he wasn’t there, for the last 20 years. The person I told everything to. The first person I went to with my happy news, my sad news, my joy. Gone.

I suppose part of what happens now is that I learn to trust myself. I learn to make mistakes and undo them. I fuck around and find out. I replace that backup person with a better note-taking system.  I find ways to comfort myself. I find ways to make those memories less excruciating. I find new adventures to daydream about.

Despite all that is happening – the divvying up, the packing, the deposit paid for the new apartment and the key readied, the removal of his belongings from the bedroom/office, the discussions about finances and paperwork, the change of insurance, and on and on – I still don’t fully believe this is happening.

My fury has nowhere to go. My sadness has nowhere to go. My fears and anxieties have nowhere to go. My WTF has nowhere to go.  It all just sits there, staring me down.  I keep bursting into tears. I can’t sleep for more than an hour or two and it is making me even less resilient. I feel like there’s absolutely  no point to anything. I’m trying to stay afloat. I am trying to trudge forward. I am trying to give a fuck about anything at all.

Sometimes it is okay. Mostly it is not.

I remember grief. I know this is grief. I know the grey will lift. I know the colours will come back. I know it will ease. I know it will change and be different. I know it will never fully be gone but it will stop being the giant wall in front of my face. I know that I will be okay, one way or another, in a way that I can’t yet visualize. I know I will solve things. I know I will muddle through. I don’t want to. That’s the thing. I just don’t fucking want to. And I don’t have any choice about it.

I am alone in this world. I mean, we all are, ultimately, right? But I thought he was my person and I was wrong. I thought I could count on him to always be there and I was wrong. What do I do with this aloneness?

 

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