On Moving Out. On Moving On.



Summer sun in the backyard

This weekend, I moved out. I have spent much of this year in a fog, feeling like I'm not sure what to do, what my next step will be, how to take that step, and what will happen when I do.

January 6th was the day that kind of started it all. Kind of, only because it had actually started long before; but it was the day of reckoning, the day of honesty, the day I made my decision known. It hit me that day that THAT was why I had waited so long to say anything. Telling my spouse I was done was one of the hardest things I've ever experienced.

All year I've waited and talked and taken time to ease into this reality. All year I've tried to be sensitive and understanding and caring as much as I can. To a point, this is good; it's always good to treat other people with care and delicacy and respect for their feelings. But beyond that point it is out of my control and not my problem. Rude? Definitely not. Realistic? For sure.

October 13th saw me leaving the house for the last time as a resident (my name remains on the mortgage for the time being) and driving away with the last trunk full of clothes, tchotchkes and furniture. I left the rooms in as much order as I could. I rearranged furniture to make sure the rooms didn't look abandoned and messy. Instead, they look neatly arranged and comfortable, floors swept, pillows fluffed, beds made. Again, I didn't have to; but I did. Maybe because I'm pretty damn nice. Or maybe because I'm scared and walking on egg shells and it's one thing I can do to ... appease?

The moving out is done. Now for the moving on.



Cottonwood tree

My ex mother in law thinks I just need to tell him in details why I am done so he can move on. I find that amusingly unrealistic, considering I've talked and detailed til I'm blue in the face. Considering I've busted my butt working for this marriage to no avail. You can't be the only one working on a partnership; that's an oximoron. Eight years later, I finally got that. And no amount of talking and explaining and detailing will get him to see or understand where I'm coming from. I can only hope that time will help him heal, and that HE will help himself heal by being honest - truly, painfully honest - with himself and with his therapist to reach a realistic, healthy place for his own good. He needs that. And I can't get him to that place. I sure tried though.

As I pulled away from my house for the last time as a resident, I felt a wash of relief and renewal. Like I could start being me again. Like I could try to find the new, grown up, independent Natalie, whoever she is. Like I could do what I wanted to do; like I could just ... be.

That's not to say there weren't good times and memories from our marriage; there certainly were. I remember camping out in our den during the holidays a few years ago with a fire in the fireplace for Lord of the Rings Extended Edition marathons. I remember biking and exploring through the woods behind our apartment complex. I remember Colorado vacations. Those were good things. Those things can't be taken away and they shouldn't. But the bad things ... those I want to forget and move past. I want to move on. I want to get over it and move on with my own life. My life and his life are going to be linked because of our incredible son. And that's OK.

 

Summer alley

It might be tough, but I intend to make the most of it for Asher's sake and to be the best mom and I can be for him no matter what is going on around me. That's part of why I left my marriage.

I have to be the best me so I can be the best mom. Asher deserves the very best mom. God picked me as his mama and I have to be strong, honest, happy, balanced, dedicated, hopeful ... I have to be my best so I can be the best for him.

He deserves that. He deserves a mama who is moved on and fully present. And that is what I intend to do.

That nervous pit goes away eventually ... right?

As I have finally stepped back from my life and taken a good look at what's going on, it's been something of a shock. The type of person I have been up to this point is blind and oblivious, no matter how in tune I think I am. I have been an 'all in' kind of person and when I go all in, I don't look back; I don't look anywhere. I just go. And then realize once it's too late that I've made a massive error. For the last eight years or so, I haven't really looked too hard at what I've been doing, right now, in this moment. I think I'm doing the right thing, I think I'm taking the right steps so I just take them and do my thing and do it wholeheartedly, which for me means without thinking. I have always been a forward thinking person - I am a planner - but somehow I have managed to blindly lead myself down a path that has gotten me through eight years of marriage that didn't fulfill but instead drained me, used me, and spat me back out. Now I'm embarking on a totally new life - a fresh start - that I never expected. I should have expected all of this. I just didn't want to; I didn't want to see it because I thought I was working so hard and doing all the right things to avoid this. But here I am.

I've had a pit in my stomach for a long time. When I realized how I had failed at my own life - and how hugely disappointed I was - there was kind of a soul-wrenching realization that settled in heavy and hard and hasn't let go. I don't think it does until I have been painfully and thoroughly honest with myself and decide to face the reasons instead of ignoring them yet again.

This whole year has been an eye-opening experience for me. I still feel like I'm walking through a fog and just leaning toward the dim light that will guide me out eventually. That light being a new direction for my life. I have been so scared to make any real and necessary changes for a long time because I didn't want to see how wrong I was: I made a really big mistake.

The last straw - the last handful of straws, really - has made me finally see what the hell is going on, what I've been putting up with and what has actually been a bunch of red flags - deal breakers - that I've been ignoring all along. Once I finally acknowledged them, it was a huge, relieving gasp of air. Like I've been sinking slowly and never even opened my eyes to see the surface slowly fading away. Once I 'got it', once I made a change - a last-ditch lurch toward the surface - that gasp of air was my wake up call. It's a weird moment. For me it really wasn't just one moment. It was a slow fade, a gradient experience as I was slowly waking up to my reality. It was like waking in the morning. There is a period where you are awake but don't quite know it ... you still drift in and out of a sleepy dream state and eventually the sensory input from around you comes on stronger than your dreams and you are fully awake. Now I just have to see that through and trust what I'm doing. It has felt right ever since I made my choice. It still feels right. Deep down, I know it's right. It's incredibly, achingly difficult, but it's right. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

I'm starting over. I'm doing what I need. I'm finding myself again. It's painful and nerve-wracking; and that pit still lingers. But one of these days it will be gone and it won't come back.


"I now realize that lives fall apart when they need to be rebuilt. Lives fall apart when the foundation upon which they were built needs to be relaid. Lives fall apart, not because God is punishing us for what we have or have not done. Lives fall apart because they need to. They need to because they weren't built the right way in the first place."

~ Iyanla Vanzant

Sick & Tired

I wish it wasn't so difficult to get through something like this. I keep telling myself: Just because it's hard doesn't mean it's not right. But that doesn't take away the pain. It still hurts a lot.

And it still drains me. I am emotionally exhuasted; half the time I'm coasting through the day. I don't care about cleaning the house like I used to or doing a load of laundry until I have to. I don't care about picking out cute outfits for work, accessorizing or make up. I pull on one of a few go-to outfits, comfortable shoes, dust on some powder and blush and I'm done. I coast through the day at work making sure I get my work done on time and with a smile, but all the while I'm just a shell of a person ... I try to make sure it's not painfully obvious that I'm struggling, I'm hurting and I'm not even sure what to do anymore. But I don't think it's working; I am sure that everyone can tell when I have an 'off' day and that something is wrong with Natalie but they don't want to say anything because ... well, this is work; we don't have lives apart from work.

Psalms 71:20-21

You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up again. You will increase my greatness and comfort me again.

My brain is tired and sometimes doesn't want to be present. But I push through. And I'm tired.

I push and push and push so hard that I make myself sick. Last week I spent a day feeling miserable at work. I was sure it would pass. I went to sleep hoping for a better day but woke up feeling just as sick. Nauseous, achy and worn out like I hadn't just woken from 7 hours of sleep; like I hadn't gotten any rest at all and was next to worthless for a day of work. I spent the entire day at the office hurting in so many ways, fighting back years, and realizing that perhaps the stress and ache and strain of so much change and so much hurt and so much misunderstanding and so much effort had left me sapped and empty and physically ill. I realized that shouldn't come as a surprise. But it still sucks. And it still hurts. And I still have so far to go.

Jeremiah 29:11

"For I know the plans I have for you", declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."