Well, the week before he moved out was horrific. The week after he moved out was horrific. But then after that a new normal developed. We still keep in touch, he still has quite a few things at my place. It's weird but then completely natural at the same time. I'm not sure how that can be but there you go. I'm also not overly surprised at how well he's adjusted to it all. He says he misses me (for the first two weeks after he moved out he slept on his sofa as he couldn't face a double bed alone) and does still wear his wedding ring, but aside from that he's just carrying on as normal. Accepting that after nine years together - that's it.
A part of me is hurt by this reaction, especially as I know that he didn't want us to split up. It was initiated by me and we would have stayed together if it was up to him. But at the same time how is this different to how he dealt with the past year?! A couple of weeks in the summer aside, he showed no fight at all to want to save us. No initiative to fix what was wrong. He just kept going and carried on as if all was normal. Even alluding to us still having a family - despite the fact that he had absolutely zero interest in sex, no matter what I did/said/tried.
Friends and family have, mainly, been lovely. Admittedly I left it to my mum to tell my extended family, and asked her to make it clear I didn't want a massive reaction to the news. I wanted to be left alone for a bit, couldn't stand all the 'oh my god I hope you're ok' texts/calls which (rightly or wrongly) I was sure would follow. Friends, whilst initially stunned, have pretty much left me alone too. Altho not from me asking, they just have. Everyone has their own busy lives to lead. A couple of members of his family have got in touch with me too, quite sweetly. I do hope to stay in touch with them, as much as is appropriate.
My mother is the most difficult one in some respects tho. She has been wonderful and we've had some lovely days out together since I've been living alone. But she is incredibly angry with him and cannot understand why I am not. According to her he has robbed me of my chance to be a mother, taken away my best child bearing years. I can understand her anger. She has said that if he finds someone else in the next couple of years and gets them pregnant she'll kill him. I believe her....... Part of me does hope he finds someone else. I want him to be happy. But I also think that is the only way he will realise what he should have done here, finding that 'real' and 'proper' (or however you want to call it, am I making sense??!) love with someone else.
But I'm not sure he would find someone else, let alone get them pregnant. Prior to this summer we, pretty much, hadn't had sex or done anything remotely sexual for three years. Three years. Just let that length of time sink in. So. Either he doesn't have a sex drive (which I'm pretty sure was it, he was never that interested even when we first started dating but for whatever reason it didn't bother me so much then) or he just doesn't love me the way he thinks he does. My mum reckons it's the latter, the fact he showed absolutely no fight - no desire to fix things or desperation to not lose me, proves to her that he never really loved me the way one should love a wife. I just think that's the way he is - he's lazy, has few life skills and no initiative.
But that doesn't stop me still loving him. I do harbour some anger towards him, of course I do, we had so much to look forward to and it was his actions (or rather inactions!) that have taken that away from me. But at the same time what is the point in directing that anger at him?! It's just the way he's made, he can't change. It's like getting angry at the weather when it's raining. What on earth can you do about it?! Which then takes me to my mother's second issue with the situation - I have no outlet for this anger. And that is true.
I have days when I cannot believe this is where I am. Sometimes it feels as if the last nine years didn't happen and I'm just back in my flat as if I never left. But I have not had a week without tears. Proper, all engulfing sobs. The most I've had without tears so far is five days in a row, no more. I am angry. I can't believe I'm here. I don't want to be single at 38. I wanted to be married to the most wonderful guy, have the house and the kids and the dog. All the clichés. And that's been taken away from me. By someone who couldn't be arsed to do anything about it.
I don't hate him, I don't resent him. He can't help it, it's just the way he is made. And I had to be absolutely completely and utterly sure that he wasn't going to change before I walked away. So I do not regret anything. There is just a part of me that still wants the version of him that doesn't exist. The version that has that missing puzzle piece. And for as long as the part of me that wants that is bigger than the part of me that is happy alone the tears will still come. I'm sure there will be a day when those parts swap size, but not yet. I cling on to how far I've come. Look where I was a year ago (here - blogs are funny like that) so who knows where I'll be this time next year. I promised myself at the end of 2017 that I would end this year happy. That I would not be in the same place as I was then. I think it's safe to say that I'm not! But am I happy? Not really. Most of the time I'm fucking miserable. But I know I will be happy, and that's the important thing.
