Almost A Month

I’m almost at my third week of being a separated woman. Of being the one to kick my husband out and have my oldest son go with him. Of taking care of my two youngest on my own. Of running this house on my own. Of just generally being on my own.

I won’t say that it hasn’t been nice in many ways. It has. I do feel guilty saying that though. It just feels wrong to admit that kicking my husband out after 20 years makes me happy. There have been some definite positives from it though and I can’t lie about that. The headaches I have suffered from on an almost daily basis for a very long time now have virtually disappeared. Expect for the odd day here and there, where He has come back and created some kind of hell for us all, they’ve gone. I’ll still get the migraines though, of that I’m certain but that constant ache in my head all of the time has mostly gone. My youngest son (I can’t think what special name I gave him right now) is so much calmer and happier, it’s really lovely to watch. There isn’t nearly as much arguing or yelling between us all. The Princess is much happier too. She sits with us in the lounge now and she hasn’t done that in such a long time.

There has been some feelings and emotions that have surprised me though. The first night I slept fine. I woke up feeling pretty happy about being in my bed on my own. I didn’t have a headache and I was looking forward to my day and to getting into bed that night. When I did get into bed though, I fell asleep fine but I couldn’t stay asleep. I kept waking up every few hours. I would lift my head, look at the clock, see the time, groan and then go back to sleep to do it all again in another couple of hours. This hasn’t stopped. I do it every single night. The other thing is that I’ve been incredibly emotional, just crying at the drop of a hat then suddenly getting amazingly angry, and just raging about the house in general. I hate it. The last few days haven’t been too bad overall but it’s still there, bubbling under the surface. Every time someone says something nice to me, or I see something sad or ‘happy family’ like on television, I either just want to start crying or screaming.

I’m not going to complain about any of it though. I’m simply sharing what is going on. I don’t see the sense in complaining about it. This is what I wanted. I wanted my husband to move out, I wanted to be alone, I wanted all of this, so if I’m getting some kick back emotional shit from it all then I’m just going to have to cop it sweet I think. I’ve had a couple of people try to offer me sympathy but I don’t want it. I’ve told them, I asked him to leave, I wanted this, so whatever is going on with me now that he’s gone is of no relevance or importance. It’s what I wanted. End of story.

3 days later…
I thought about this some more over the last few days and you know the biggest thing to come out of him leaving? Doing grocery shopping. Actually going to the supermarket, with enough money, then buying what we need to get through the week, sometimes even buying extra stuff that we’d all just like but don’t necessarily need. I can’t even describe to you what an amazing feeling that is. I open my cupboards and my fridge and they aren’t just filled with stuff that I haven’t wanted to throw out because then the cupboards would entirely empty, they are filled with food that we can eat and that I can make things with. There are snacks for the kids and things for their recess and lunch at school everyday. In the fridge there is fruit and vegetables. Not a massive range of fruit and veg, but it’s there. There are drinks for the kids to take to school and juice for them to have in the morning. There are even ice blocks in the freezer! I’ve got bags of frozen veggies too!

Coming and going as I please for as long as I please and with whom I please. Wow, that is so nice! I can go and visit my neighbour without wondering when he’s going to call/text/send children up to see me. Actually, that isn’t entirely true, there have been a couple of occasions when he’s called or texted while I’ve been at the neighbours and it’s because he claims he needs me for something. Still, when Miss Independent rocks up, in her car, (she has her licence now!) I can just grab my bag, my phone and my keys and walk out the front door. I don’t need to explain where I’m going, with who, how long I’ll be, why I’m going or end up having an hour long argument about it. I just go.

Having said all that, it doesn’t mean there aren’t days where I wake up and think to myself, “I broke my family” and then proceed to feel incredibly guilty about it all. I wonder what damage have I done to the two younger kids, even to The Bean Pole at 15. Have I ruined their lives? Is Dr. Phil right when he implies that splitting up a family is the worst thing in the world that you can do to a child? Are they going to hate me one day? Are they all going to turn on me and I’ll end up old and alone? There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wonder about that.

Time will tell I suppose. For the moment, all I can really do is take one hour at a time and just hope that I make it to the next one without causing too much damage along the way.