Detachment, anxiety and the end of limbo 2

[Phoebe]

Well, I just realized that today is 6 months to the day since WH disappeared without a word. What a cowardly, disrespectful, cruel (fill in whatever adjective comes to mind) thing to do.

Anyway, Happy Damn Anniversary. Again. 6 months ago, tonight, I was shell-shocked when I realized H wasn't coming home (on the night before our real anniversary). I was shaking like a leaf, having constant palpitations, in a literal panic, and I didn't tell anyone until the following day. It was the worst night of my life and I was completely alone.

In hindsight, there was not one thing that I could have done to deserve that. I know so much more now that I did that night, about the secret life, the PA, the drugs, the massive web of deceit that had started at least 2 1/2 years earlier, but then I knew nothing. It brought me to my knees. Literally. I spent the next 3 months thinking he'd be back and blaming myself and searching for any explanation, then another month pondering his PA and how I could learn to forgive him, and then there came the day he told me he had nothing left to say to me, and I gave up most of my hope. Three weeks ago he let loose the coup de grace, initiating a D without a word.

My therapist says his behavior has been despicable. I'm inclined to agree.

Anyway, just an anniversary-induced recap to help me tap into a little bit of the ol' anger thing that my T says I need to access more often. Sometimes it feels like it was just a few days ago that H abdicated, and then other times it feels like it's been forever. Some days felt like weeks. I wasn't sure how I was even going to survive the first week, and on day 6, which happened to be Christmas Eve, I ended up in Urgent Care, just asking for any kind of help because I was struggling so much.

For a long time, I just focused on making it through an hour, or on finishing some project that would keep me distracted from the pain for a little while.

Now I'm better. Most days are OK and some are genuinely good. Once a week or so I ride the roller coaster back down for a while, but I know that things will improve. I ride the good coaster days for all they're worth.

H is gone, and I am left to go on with my life. I've started to be able to imagine inklings of what that might look like, or what it might include.

Today I've been thinking about what kind of person I'd consider sharing that life with. It won't be for a long time, but at least I can now think about what I might look for in another partner for a little while without feeling nauseous. That's progress.

I read an article in the New York Times about professional cuddlers today. It reminded me that I have barely been touched by anyone in over 6 months, beyond quick hugs. It's just not enough, and I am feeling the loss more every day. I really could use a long, tight, non-awkward hug. I wish my therapist hugged me like my grief counselor does, but he just shakes my hand when I leave.

So few people are willing (or able?) to give real hugs, but I did get a nice one from my lawn care guy again this week. Is it sad that I accept every hug that I'm offered and wish for more of the good ones?

So, I guess I should hit the hay. Time to make my big commute. Good night and sweet or no dreams, depending on your preference!