Okay... that's a reach. I'm comfortable in my inability to commit to one passion and see it through, it's a flaw in my character that has remained a failsafe my entire life, and I'm sure it's not going to change in Year 33 (33?!) so I'll just own it for what it is.
But here I am, yet again, back on the warpath, myself against... well... myself. There is one clear difference this time, one I haven't approached publicly. But if I've learned anything over the last few months, it's that I'm never going to fix my outside without first working on what lies within. So with heavy hands and a heavy heart, I've set out to do just that. Transparency with myself is the first step.
My husband and I met when we were babies. Not literal babies, but emotional children all the same. Both 20, both having just survived our own set of family tragedies, both vulnerable, both in a personal state of chaos, he quickly became my best friend and confidante and everything I needed. We found out we were pregnant before we were ready but we faced it head-on together as a team, and that became the general approach for the next twelve and a half years. It didn't work every time, as is true in every relationship, but we both tried.
As we grew as people, parts of us grew together and parts of us grew apart. We remained best friends, confidantes, and partners in life. But there came a point where my personal growth and his became different, and eventually it reached an impasse. Without delving into the depths of our personal life, we'll suffice it to say that it just wasn't going to work any longer, and something had to change. So I made a choice... a carefully thought out but imperfectly carried out choice. I left.
I moved back to my hometown, back to my safe haven, leaving behind my partner and best friend and it's still not okay. It will be in time, but for now, it's still a raw wound for everyone involved. I'm blessed with the courtesy and understanding and unconditionality of a family on all sides that has been accepting and loving regardless of the situation, and I admit... there was no manual for this. I was ill prepared on all fronts.
I had to do a lot of soul searching and I realized that I've never been alone. I've never been an adult without him by my side, and I'm learning every day what that entails. I've had to face insecurities and fears I've never even known I had, and the hardest part has been the two children we raise together.
I left without them. I thought, and still think, that the best thing is for them to be somewhere with consistency until this is our new normal and I realize that isn't in the middle of two parents learning how to live apart. They have family and friends and school and life where they're at, and leaving them is the single hardest thing I've ever done because it meant understanding that in doing so, I was sacrificing the ability to be the one that wakes them every day and the one that kisses them asleep at night. They've had a great summer filled with water parks and swimming pools, hotels and friends... and I'm so glad they've had that. But they've had it sans me, and explaining to my children that this space is so they don't see the hurt is impossible and inappropriate for their psyche and emotional growth.
I write this for a reason... Not only to clear my soul of some of the clouds that have been gathering (or to "clean my window" as my son and I say) but also because I need this outlet... I need to empty myself of everything I can, lay it on out on the table and look at what's there and sort it into tidy piles of emotions that I can see with a clear perspective in order to move forward.
So here I sit, at 10:53 pm on a Monday night, searching my soul for answers to questions I never thought I'd have. I still don't have the answers but I know that some knowledge can only come from time rather than Google. I think I've nailed down a few things, and I know the rest will follow suit. Not today, and probably not tomorrow. But next year, or in ten years, or someday far off into the distance, and if I'm anything, I'm patient.
Here's what I know now...
1. Leaving doesn't mean you stop loving.
I have no idea how to put into words the love I have for my husband. It has morphed and changed and become something different over the years, and it's not something I can embrace for what it is while living in the same house but the love will never die. It can't, and it shouldn't. He is the father of my two greatest successes, and he knows me better than anyone ever has and probably ever will. He's the man that bought me the final Harry Potter at midnight on release day while I slept, and the man that understood my fears and failures, and the one that made me laugh until I cried countless times over so many years. He's the man I grew with, and despite living separately, that history with him will never change. I don't know if he understands that but showing him over time is the only way I know, and I hope that's enough.
2. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices.
I've solidly taken on the role of being the "bad guy" and I do so with gusto and full responsibility. I made the choice to leave, I moved out, I handed over my wedding ring, and I broke my family's heart. I own that with every ounce of my being and I'm not ever going to try to place that blame elsewhere. But it's the hardest thing to come to terms with, and I know it's not something anyone will understand. I left because my children were becoming accustomed to our arguing, and despite our best efforts to conceal our adult imperfections, you can't live in the same house with two intelligent beings and expect said beings to not be aware that things are awry. So I knew that in order to restore their joy and allow them their childhood as uninterrupted as possible, they needed to spend the summer with their grandparents and all of the happiness that comes with the entire grandparent concept. And of course, when school starts, the routine of having time with each of us, separately, will become the norm. But, oh... how I miss them. I miss getting them ready in the mornings, and I miss singing to them at night, and I miss long drives and long talks and long baths and long yawns and everything that I took for granted as a day-to-day married mother coming home every day to the same house and family, and that's something any divorced or separated parent will understand. I know there will be a routine, and they'll have time with me and time with their dad and eventually this will even out into something stable but right now it's terrifying and lonely.
3. Team work makes the dream work.
I don't know how you feuding families do it. Maybe you're stronger than I am or maybe you just prefer it that way, but if it weren't for the constant conversations with my in-laws and our ability to work together to get through this, I have no idea where I'd be. It doesn't have to be all court battles and this-is-mine-you-can't-have-it... I know you know what I mean. Of course there are times we hurt and things we don't understand, but I'm so grateful for the chances to have conversations openly about this with them, and I welcome their advice and thoughts, because I care about them as if they were my own and I always will.
4. Sometimes space is exactly what you need.
Being away from my husband, I like him more than I've liked him in years. There's anger and resentment and whatever emotions come from a newly changed relationship, of course, but it's fading so quickly into a position that feels reasonable rather than growing and spiraling out of control as it was in the same house. I hope it continues, and we can be friends. He's still the same person, and so am I, and I still like hearing about his day and asking for his advice, and I hope in time he feels the same way.
5. Starting over is hard.
I left everything behind, aside from a few kitchen items and couple of bags of clothes, and one console table. I left my car, all of the furniture (sans that one table,) and everything in between. I've never felt more love and care from the people in my life, and I'll never know how to thank and repay them. From every corner, I felt love and warmth in what has been the hardest time of my life, and sitting now on this different couch, eating at a different table in this different house, getting ready to do my workout that will play on a different TV before going to bed in a different bed, every single one of those things, and so much more, is in this house because of people that I'll never be able to accurately thank. I have big plans to try and show my gratitude, but nothing can ever compare to the sheer weight lifted off my shoulders as my house filled with the necessities of a home at the grace and selflessness of other people.
6. This, too, shall pass.
Our hardships are temporary. Every time we're faced with what feels like the world collapsing in, if we can just hold on for a few more moments, inevitably we will always see that it wasn't a lifetime, it was just a moment. Life is full of moments. Some are great and some are terrible but most are somewhere in the middle. Time heals all things, it's been said so often and it rings true every time. My family will heal, and we will always remain a family because we are linked together and family extends so far beyond four walls, you just have to open your eyes and your heart to see the big picture.
So there it is, all on the table... Well, not all of it but enough that I feel comfortable with my internal progress today. I'm going to go to bed tonight and I'm (probably) going to wake up tomorrow and so it goes, day in and day out. Each day is a new opportunity to do better, and I'm going to do just that, with everything I have and everything I am. I'm going to do it alone, and I'm going to do it with others. But this time one thing is different. I'm going to work on my soul first, and then my body will follow suit.
