You all already know this, but what a gift to feel less alone going through all of this. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and offer your advice and support! It's been busy at work and I haven't had time to reply, but I've been reading your posts.
Earlier this week I texted H for the first time in forever to joke about something that came in the mail for him. I just wanted to share the joke and realized I didn't care if he texted me back or not, so I went for it. That's a big difference from five or six months ago when it hurt every day we didn't text. He joked back, though, a nice surprise. No expectations.
I also came home to an envelope from the courthouse and had a moment where all of my emotions seemed to freeze. It was an invitation to apply to serve on a grand jury. Now that I think about it, maybe that's why I've been feeling more pessimistic re: D today.
Kindly, that dog & leash analogy is helpful—thank you for sharing it here! I was thinking about that today when I replied to HopeCA's post about feeling like the more I try to force new levels of detachment, the less it happens. I feel like I'm doing all I can at the moment to drop the leash, but I just don't have that internal feeling of having dropped it. I feel like I'm trying to rush through all of this and maybe I have to allow it to happen on its own timeline. Maybe I'm trying so hard I don't notice incremental progress.
When H told me he'd be dog/house-sitting for the next several days, I felt a mixture of sadness and relief. He made it a point to say it was just down the street. A couple of months ago, he wouldn't have said anything, and I'd just be wondering why he was suddenly gone at night. He said he'd be in and out but mostly there, and the last two nights I've been alone, unless you count his stopping by the house to grab a few cooking supplies. On the one hand, this gives me some more time to myself; on the other, my brain wants to jump to the worry that he'll move out at some point. I got a little pang in my chest when I saw the items he took over with him, had to stop myself from spending time imagining him taking more and more and more until nothing is left. I've been better at not dwelling on the unknown future, but I am starting to feel a bit of melancholy coming home to an empty house and waking up to an empty house, and that worry is edging into my thoughts more than I'd like it to. I try to turn my mind back to the present instead, remind myself that all of my fears aren't reality right this second, so why focus on them? At least I'll be able to get out in the yard tomorrow—that should bring my mind back to the present.
