Yesterday the movers came.
My friend, Barb, came over a bit after they started and we visited outside while the movers worked inside. As we visited on the deck, we talked about school, X, family, X, teaching, and X. The act of packing up and watching my stuff be carried out of the house that used to be ours, the house that we were supposed to raise a family in, was really hard. I kept thinking about how he left, the reasons he gave that continue to not make sense to me, and how hard these past six months have been.
I think it’s natural that these thoughts would stir in the move. I was surprised, though, that it was more about his leaving than the memories we shared together. I really am not over this. It’s going to be a long time before I am.
Right before the divorce hearing, my MIL told me that it was time to move on. I know she meant well, and believe that she genuinely just doesn’t want me to be in pain. But geez, I’m still very much in process. I choose to take one step forward every day. I keep moving. I’m not emailing him, messaging him, shit, I’m not even pining after him. But the pain is still very real. I am still in grief over what he did to me. I still feel abandoned and alone. Not all the time. It’s not constant any more. But those feelings are there and they are real.
Moving on isn’t just something you do. There’s no switch you can flip. Not when you really truly loved someone. It seems more like it’s a series of steps. I’ve been moving step by step emotionally, with lots of twists and turns, trying to find my way. As I move back east, there’s still a seemingly never-ending list of things to do – mail books, talk to bank, yard work for the final walk-through, clean the house, rent the carpet cleaner, detail the car, sell the car, make final arrangements for the cat. Not to mention making time to spend with friends before I go. Then, there’s all the “next steps” waiting for me back east. I am moving on, one step at a time.
Moving on isn’t a one-shot deal. It’s movement. I am moving. I am physically moving my location across the country. I am moving emotionally – lots of twists, u-turns, and some funny little sprints that surprise me. In all of that, I still grieve. And I know, in my heart of hearts, that it’s okay.
I also know, as I sit on the floor of my empty bedroom typing this, that I’m ready to take this next step. I don’t know what the future looks like, but I’m ready to find out. One step at a time, I’m moving on.
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