Week Two

I've done it.  We've done it: Daniel has moved out.  He is still here at the house every day, and we have some figuring out to do with that.  But perhaps rather than be fixated on how much he's here and how hard that is for me, I can focus on the first big step: he's not living here, not sleeping in my bed, not here when I wake up in the morning.

And I am grateful.

The energy in the house feels lighter for me.  I don't tense when he lies beside me in bed.  I feel some ease and some freedom.  When he's here, I do wonder what he's doing and whether he's helping the kids with their schoolwork; when he's not here, I don't wonder what he's doing.  I'm glad to have this space to myself, this physical, mental, and emotional space.

When I wake up, I don't feel that sinking feeling in my chest, wondering how many texts he's already exchanged with Cristina or how much Italian he's been doing since 4am while his clothes and papers are strewn in various spots around the house.  I don't feel relegated to meditating in bed because he's meditating in the living room.  

I'm grateful because I feel like a better version of myself.  I sit with the kids for breakfast if they ask.  I make dinner simply, happily.  I laugh on the phone with my girlfriends.  I go for my walks.  

During a faculty meeting two days ago, I had a sudden thought and wrote it down.  It went something like this: "I am healthy.  I can be healthy now."  I don't feel weighed down by every small decision that must be debated when he is here, whether about loading dishes into the dishwasher or buying a car that holds six of us or how he should manage female friendships.

We haven't figured out a schedule yet, but we'll get there.

For now, I feel lighter, and this is be a good thing.