Well, I've moved out. H acted strangely in the days that I was moving - following me around and asking odd questions ("oh, are you moving your things?" "Um, that's a strange question. ...yes?") and hyper-focusing on things of his he felt I was taking.
Living with him and his kids in these conditions was impacting my health. He ended the connection between us and seemed to resent everything about me. He focused on me as the source of his misery, and I didn't have strong enough bonds with his kids that I could avoid being made into the outsider. There was no way for me to stay without his crisis bringing me down.
I spoke with the kids and they were very kind to me. They both gave me hugs. It was important to me that they know that I tried to make things better, but there was a point where my boundaries entered into the equation and it was time to take myself out of the line of fire.
At one point when I was moving, I got to hear about how "this wasn't my idea." Apparently his idea of us ending our relationship and selling the house that we just bought included me living alongside of him as his roommate and continuing to happily pay bills until it sold. And somewhere along the line the three of them would move out.
Given that there are three of them and one of me, staying was detrimental to my mental health. Watching the family that was supposed to be mine from the outside looking in wasn't something that was making me feel very nice.
In the face of his curmudgeonly attitude, he was met with nonchalance and happiness.
My mother helped me organize, while I did most of the carrying of boxes. I hired movers for the heavy furniture and large items, and I moved everything else. H did not offer to help at all.
My mother did speak to him at one point. Through my urging, she approached him with compassion, confusion, and concern. I made myself scarce and she got a conversation going with him. The reasons he gave were: we are at different stages of life and that we have some things in common but not things that are important to him. This is after 5 years together.
Of course, he's not going to say anything derogatory about me to my mother, but it's the same pattern that his reasons vary depending on the day, or even the hour.
My mother told him that we (my family) would miss him, and tears started welling up in his eyes. But then he squashed the emotion. She said that's why he can't be open to me without his lens - the tears might well up. He's got to believe I'm awful enough that his actions are appropriate.
My mom noticed how angry he is with me, and how he was trying to pick fights with me. She said "He's trying to justify his decision" and urged me to stay away from him. I told her that I didn't need to do that; I wasn't going to seek him out but when he spoke with me I'd meet him with kindness and validation.
His milestone birthday passed. I didn't say anything to him. That hurt, but I knew he didn't want that moment from me. I also didn't get to say goodbye to him. I don't think he wanted that.
The house looks bare and clinical. One thing he loved when I moved in with him was that I was able to help make a home for his kids; now it's back to looking sparse.
I'm in my little apartment for a month until my slightly larger apartment opens up. I will be treating my tiny shoe box as my convalescent home. I'll be spending time in bed, crying, watching Netflix, and just indulging myself. In a month, I hope to be feeling a little bit better.
I know this isn't about me, but it still hurts. I miss my man from before the aliens abducted him. It felt so nice and so safe. We had a silly language we were using. We had stupid songs. I'd lay my head on his chest and watch movies. I miss that sense of safety.
He and I will have to speak about the house, so I know I'll talk to him again. I imagine he'll be rushing back out on the dating market, trying to find someone to boost his ego. I will not be doing that, because I'm not ready for that. I'm turning my focus onto me, meeting my own needs, meeting the challenges of my life, and growing as a person.
