One of my friends on fb asked me how things were going with Joe.
More specifically she asked how the separation was going.
It is going as well as can be expected I suppose. I see him every weekend. Until recently I was not seeing him during the week. That has changed a bit in the last couple of weeks and we have been meeting on the weeknights some days. It isn't very sustainable for me though, as I am very tired from working nine hours and driving an hour home each night. We'll see how it goes from here on out.
The place he is staying is not ideal. I used to worry about it incessantly until my therapist told me it is not my concern. I felt like that was very cold, as if I were saying I didn't care. It's not that I don't care(because I do). It's just that his living conditions are not my concern. It is his concern. I have a myriad of things that I must worry about, that are my concern(and not his), and vice versa.
I think it is so easy to give advice(I've had plenty), or be judgemental(had that too), but the reality is that you have no idea about our situation(except what I have shared here, and for every blog post I have shared there are countless unwritten that I haven't).
You have not been in my shoes.
We have been married for twenty years. He is my best friend(and I his).
I love him. I have always loved him.
I have been with him longer than I have been without him(we met when I was 18).
Being apart has been very hard.
There are some nights I miss him so much it hurts.
I miss sleeping with him. I'm talking about the literal act of sleeping next to him, although I miss the other part of sleeping with him too, if you must know.
I miss waking up together, and him making me breakfast. I miss laying in bed and reading the newspaper, with my dog on my lap and my sister's cat on his. (That cat loved him, much to his dismay)
I miss everything about our apartment. I miss the view of the trees from our balcony. I miss the sounds of the marching bands from the local high school. I even miss the firetrucks that would go screaming past our house every hour or so from the Fire house one block away.
I long for the life we had built together there, spanning fourteen years.
I often doubt the decision I made to give all of that up.
Sometimes when you love someone you have to let go and realize you can't fix everything for them.
Sometimes they have to fix things for themselves. That's a hard one for me. I'm a lifelong fixer.
It is hard too, realizing that not only can I not fix it, but fixing it isn't going to be quick or easy. It's going to be hard and messy and I am so scared that when all is said and done we will be completely different people who won't know each other anymore.
My therapist told me tonight that I am brave. I shook my head vehemently and said "No. I'm not brave. I am scared and sad and some days am barely hanging on."
She said that's what makes me brave. That I am all of those things but I still get up every day and try to make the best of things.
I suppose that part is true. I do get up every day :/
The truth is, I still cry in my car on the way home many nights. That does not make me feel brave at all.
On a completely different note, we were talking the other night about the weight that we have lost over the last year.
After discussing it further,we both realized that since Joe's birthday almost exactly one year ago, between the two of us we have lost 85 pounds. Yowza! 85 pounds!!!
That's like a whole other person! He has lost more than I have and I still have a ways to go but 85 pounds is pretty awesome and I am proud of us for that.