Noticed something interesting when I got home from my sister's a while ago. My H had been in the house. I had actually set some things up to be able to tell if he had come in. But he didn't make any secret about it. He took a coffee table that I wasn't using, and he took his big speakers from the living room. He also apparently took a water hose from outside. His van is gone, too.
Now, it hurts my heart ... which I guess is expected. But the good news is that apparently he's moving and needing to outfit a place (hopefully other than roomie's house). When I drove past his house a little while ago, neither of H's cars are there.
That's hopefully good news, because that means H might have moved somewhere else. And that's been one of my big hangups: having to live across the street from him.
And I'm actually kinda glad I don't know where he's at now. I'm not going to try to find out, either. I can speculate all I want that he moved in with OW. And let's face it: That's prolly the most logical explanation.
But the good part is that I can wonder about it. I don't have to know right now. And maybe I won't have to deal with what my biggest fear had become: That OW would be moving in with H in the house across the street.
Wonder why, though, it still hurts? It's not as bad as when he moved the first time, obviously, and I don't believe I was addicted to the drama of him living across the street. But it almost feels final now for some reason. His leaving, that is.
I have absolutely no idea where my H, the father of my unborn child, is.
That's soooo freakin' weird! But it feels much better than knowing he's across the street.
