I’m panicking. Things have moved so quickly – and yet they’ve crawled. People know now, and I’ve started packing. But I am freaking TERRIFIED.
Don’t get me wrong – this is definitely for the best. I can’t stay with someone who lies to me, and who hides how much he drinks. Who has never learned how to communicate, and views counseling as a weakness for *other* people. It’s exhausting to live this way, and so I need to go.
But here’s the thing: I haven’t lived on my own in 24 years. Well, a little longer if you count us living together before we were married. I’ve known this man for LITERALLY my entire adult life – I met him at my first duty station when I was 18. And I’ve *definitely* never been responsible on my own for raising a child. And not just a child, but a teen who plays a year-round competitive sport, is getting her first job this summer, and doesn’t yet drive. The parts of me that scream loudest are the ones saying that I’m going to screw this up – screw HER up – in ways as of yet to be recognized. That the comfortable lifestyle is worth dealing with all the rest. As we get closer to the move, it’s harder to drown those voices out.
And yet. My mental/emotional health are worth so much more than a comfortable lifestyle. And I’m teaching my kids that it’s ok to recognize when things are broken beyond repair, and that placing value on oneself is important. At least – I *hope* I am.
So…I’m off to continue packing. 24 years of *together* is so hard to separate. I’m truly thankful that, thus far, this is amenable and there really is no rush to get everything out all at once. Now if I could pack up my fears in some box, but throw it away instead of moving it…
Note: This was actually written a couple of weeks ago. We’ve since moved and I will be talking about that as well – but these emotions? Haven’t gone away.