I won't say that I'm completely healed. That would be lying. I'm not ready to date anyone, and the things hubby does or doesn't do (leaving his junk in the house or keeping one of the dogs from me) can still make me fairly angry and hurt. I also don't know how I'll feel on our wedding anniversary next month or the anniversary of our first date the month after that.
After almost six months, though, I will say that the routine has become a balm. I don't miss him because out of habit I don't expect him to be there. I no longer expect, even out of the corners of my mind, for him to be home when I return. I don't scan the street for his car as I turn into it. It's becoming less and less often when I notice something in the news or read something that I instinctual want to tell him about. I expect it to become easier (after the bump of leaving) when I no longer inhabit our house. Moving furniture has helped some, but unfinished home repair projects of his, scratches he put in the wall, and the general uneasiness that he has the keys still occasionally grate on me.
I'm going to try to stop complaining about moving in with my parents. I should be grateful I have loving parents who at least have some small area in their house and are willing to shelter me in this time of need. At least until I am actually staying with them, at least, which is when I plan to grumble quietly to friends about every fundamentalist holier-than-thou comment they make and every Sunday they force me to church. However, I will take advantage of their generosity to save as much money as I can to get myself an ideal new place.
For now, I have to finish the semester. Although at present I am a tad distracted by the job interviews I had yesterday. One of them was at a lovely private girls' high school. It seems to be the kind of institution where I could focus more on teaching and less on the administrative details I hated so much during student teaching. Possibly I could even expect the students to read more than 4 pages a night for homework. The campus was beautiful, and it is four miles away from the condo village I like. Keep your fingers crossed that they liked me as much as I liked them!
Don't take this wrong- I'm not loving life, I'm not estatic about "starting over" and "moving on" as people sometimes prompt me to be, people who I may add have never been divorced. For a long time I had felt so tired, so hurt, that each breath and each step was taken with the utmost force and care. Now I can only say that I'm more than coping, but that's as far as I'm willing to take it yet.
I like solitude, but he gave me so much of it in the relationship. I'm lonely. I miss having someone around to share the little things with.
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I get the lonely, and I'm sorry. I've had that *within* my marriage, too. We got through it (after a short separation), but I felt so many of the same things you're talking about. I also remember telling my friend, whose marriage ended abruptly and shockingly (to her), that she wasn't mourning her husband...she was mourning the man she had wanted him to be.
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