My husband moved out of our apartment this weekend — definitely a “down” in terms of the ups and downs one experiences with marriage. As I reorganize my now spacious apartment to suit one person (and two cats), I try not to dwell on the why / what went wrong, and instead focus on looking ahead – whatever the future may hold.
I spent Labor Day weekend in Seattle visiting friends, which was a welcome escape from reality for a few days. Although I couldn’t entirely forget about my situation back in D.C., my wonderful friends certainly helped me put it in the back of my mind for a while. Still, I wasn’t prepared for the shock and the overwhelming emotion that resulted walking into what used to be “home”, and is now simply “my apartment”.
So I move items of clothing from one closet to another. I purchase new furniture to replace pieces that are no longer here. I am surprised to find some of the little things that left with him … as well as a few little things that remain with me. I try to comfort two cats who are clearly distressed and confused with the new living arrangement. I struggle with the fact that doing something that may be the right thing to do, doesn’t make it any easier or less painful.
People have commented on the fact that I am a strong person and can get through this, like I’ve gotten through all the other shit life has thrown at me. I wish this was a choice as opposed to a necessity.
One foot in front of the other.