My own, personal pergatory.....

Quick update in case anyone is interested.

Tomorrow is my freaking anniversary. Eight years ago Raymond and I sat over pizza on his first visit to me in college. We were making long range plans, and he says to me "So I guess we're getting married, huh?" And I said to him, "Yep. Took you this long to figure it out?"

And now this.

Today he began moving things into his new apartment. He told me he wants to move the dresser tomorrow. He did not ask me if I would pretty please remove my clothes and jewelry from it. He did not tell me when he intended to do this. He did not add "I'll put the other dresser in the bedroom so you can transfer your stuff". He did not inform me prior to this evening that he intended for his relatives to stay the night...and sleep on the floor.

It is not the events themselves that hurt so much as the lack of communication. That he does not care even enough to keep me in the loop. Granted, it may be a lack of understanding that even a roommate deserves that much knowledge rather than a lack of feeling but...it hurts. To mark the real, official movement of him from OUR space to HIS space on the very day eight years ago that he so casually echoed my assumption that we would be life-long partners....you know, I don't think he even realizes what day it is.

He got the job as an event photographer. It's part-time, un-reliable work for sucky pay, but it's income. He's working for Archie a little too, and has an interview for a full-time programming job. Already. Today, I got back my first honest-to-goodness rejection notice. Lucky me.

I don't know how I feel anymore. I want to be strong, independent, successful....and I want to hide under the covers, or throw myself at his ankles and beg him to stay. I want to chain him to me and throw away the key....and I want him to please just go away. I don't want to leave my home and family life behind....but I'm looking forward to being my own woman, beholden to no one in my own environment but me.

See? I am a healthy, independent, successful young woman. PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!

Fuck.

Life (or lack thereof) Update

So yes, it does in fact seem to be happening. I still don't know if it's permanent, but I'm getting the message loud and clear that Raymond and I need to be apart for awhile, and that I am not going to be allowed by the Universe in general to remain attached to my house.

So, I have a boarder situation lined up for me, while Raymond and a mutual friend look for an apartment together. I'm more than actively looking for a job, I've even turned in a resume. It's hard and scary as hell, but not as hard and scary as looking at my house and thinking "What can I take with me? What will have to go into storage? Who gets to keep that lamp?" Everytime I start to think about it, I want to cry.

But that's not doing me any good. I'm trying to eat every day (I haven't done that yet, but I will). I'm popping vitamin B like candy and wearing hematite and rose quartz in an attempt to stay grounded and on an even keel. They say what does not kill you makes you stronger. It's been two weeks now and I haven't died, so I guess I'm stuck here. If I can't die of a broken heart and I'm too much of a coward to do it any other way, then I'd better make the best of life. I don't know if this will make me stronger, but it will make me much more careful. Once bitten, twice shy as they say.

I feel as if I am sort of living on platitudes and cliches right now, but they're common because they MEAN something, so it's okay. I'm so tired, and angry, and depressed, I just want to crawl into a hole and pull my daydreams in after me. But I don't have that option. I'm losing my house, my husband, and a huge chunk of my entire world. I made the mistake of tying my faith into a human being, and like any human being, he is prone to mistakes. He is leaving me, which is not smart of him, but maybe necessary anyway. It will be a hard road to recovery, if we ever make it that far. One thing is for certain -- I will never be addicted to anything again. I thought I wasn't, but I was addicted to him. When you get addicted to anything, it leaves you vulnerable. If someone can take it from you and render you totally debilitated, then you are too dependent on it. Never again.

Now comes the painful process of rediscovering myself as an individual. I've spend almost a third of my life attached to this other human being, utterly consumed in couplism. And now he is leaving me, abandoning me to save himself. Can I ever trust him again? I don't know. I don't have any control over him, a frightening process for a control nut like me. It's like someone took the central pillar of my existence away, without regard for whether the structure will collapse on my head.

But it isn't, not completely. I have a lot of friends and family giving me a lot of support. That means more to me than I can possibly say. The lot of you are keeping me alive, afloat, and half-sane. I would be utterly lost without you, thank you so very, very much. Your compassion and affection are the best things I could have received in my hour of need.

So now, I will learn some independence. I was already learning it, but now I get the crash course. I will spend some time in a boarder situation. I will get a job and pay off my debts hand over fist. I will find my own place in time. Maybe I will find it with Raymond, maybe not. I will make enough to really live, to put money aside for the birth of children, for their college funds, for family vacations and braces and new bicycles...whether or not Raymond is in the picture. I can't say I will one day love again. I can't feel that far ahead. I want Raymond back, and I want him right now. Failing that I'm willing to work on being a strong, independent, healthy, wealthy woman while I wait for him to figure himself out. Then we'll talk.